Note: This column is satirical.
This last Saturday, approximately 600 students, 60 faculty members and six rams hiked up to the A near Hughes Stadium to present a blood sacrifice. The blood, graciously donated by the Fort Collins First National Blood Bank, was spilled upon the A, which, according to local legend, is the only way to appease the mighty, all-powerful being Lucifer Collins.
Dating back to 1923, the A represents the moment when the farmers occupying the unincorporated territory (that would later be named “Fort Collins”) turned over both their souls and land to Lucifer Collins, a wealthy, jazz-listening smooth talker.
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Lucifer Collins embroidered the A (which was intended as the town’s motto, because it’s “A great place to live”) using his sheer willpower after slack-jawed hick Tommy Loveland questioned his powers.
Town census records quote Loveland as saying, “I seen an A where an A should never be — outside of the alphabet,” shortly before fleeing to begin his own town, Greeley.
CSU graduate Lauren Cox is credited with leading the annual blood sacrifice.
“I do it for a number of reasons,” said Cox. “It gives an immediate sense of community to the freshmen, it’s a ton of fun and, like many of us, I live in crippling fear of Lucifer Collins, who some say still lives in Horsetooth Reservoir.”
Cox is supported by the University’s Alumni Association, who are the few who still claim that.
“I think it’s pretty obvious that something will happen if we don’t complete the sacrifice,” said Cox, noting that, during the 72 hours leading up to the offering, CSU’s recently added digital screens repeatedly flash the word “blood” every 72 minutes.
Some Fort Collins residents are against the ritual blood sacrifice.
“All this ‘Lucifer Collins’ business is a load of hogwash,” said Cotton Wilkinson, an elderly grocer, moments after spitting. “I think this town has seen the last of him.”
When pressed for further comment, Wilkinson was unavailable, as he had been turned by some unseen force into what can only be described as a large, screaming Jack-in-the-Box.
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The Hall Monitor-Herald is written by Niles Hachmeister, Patrick Hoehne, Chris Vanjonack and Andrew Walker. The Hall Monitor-Herald can be found online at thehallmonitorherald.com, where it is still waiting for the other kids to finish that game of hide-and-go-seek they started 20 years ago.
