The Monday Catchup

photo.jpgEvery time I recall this story, I can’t sleep for at least two days after. Imagine our mother, Kenyon College, washed in warm light. The trees lining middle path are shaggy green. The student body has gone to summer in upstate New York or somewhere on the coast of Massachusetts or got an internship like a reasonable person. It’s the summer of 1995. Gambier is sleepy, but one building is full of activity.

Caples has been checked and locked down for the night, but lights and showers have been unexpectedly coming on throughout the day despite the vacancy of the building. At 5 a.m. safety officer Dan Turner recieved a call from switchboard operator, Jolynn Bryant. Three phone calls from Caples had come in rapid succession from rooms 511, 611, and 711. Each time she heard a woman scream and hang up. The sound was not mechanical but decidedly human. Safety officers arrived on the scene and another call came in from room 811. This time the voice on the other line did not scream. Instead, it breathed heavily, wimpered, and choked out the phrase “How was your weekend?”

It’s the Monday Catchup.

“I saw a baby llama taken from its mother and then returned.”

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The Monday Catchup

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You need to stop forming a hoard. I cannot navitage Middle Path when you clot up the main artery of this campus. For example, last evening I was walking home from my duty round because I’m a CA who signed up to be RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR ACTIONS, and a huge mass of you come barraling towards me with the force of an impending colon blowout. I’m forced to jaywalk and proceed to have a 10 minute conversation with the sheriff about my IRRESPONSIBILITY while you stumble past, pee behind a pine tree, and defile the good name of The Kenyon Thrill by placing us in the same sentence as Buzzfeed. Go figure out what Disney princess you are based on your kink. I’ll be here waiting. Don’t even tell me how your weekend was.

“My weekend was bad, because I was forced to jaywalk.”

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The Monday Catchup

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Dear class of 2022,

Wow! Congratulations! You studied. You applied. Kenyon swiped right on you and you swiped right back. You could afford to pay full price, had an SAT tutor, and are white — Super Like. I’ll just call you Cool Mint because you are too Juul for school. But, who really cares. You’re in the club now. Your K-card photo is still reflective of how you look in real life (just give it some time), and yeah, you DO know who pinegrove is, but their new stuff is garbage. How was your weekend?

“Dude I ran out of pods.”

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The Monday Catchup

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Giddy up cowboys and cowgirls! You too Trish, ya heifer! I’m sick of your soft talk about “snow” in “April.” I need to see some gritty two-timing partners at this school. Hell what would Philander say if he saw you complaining?  I’m sure he slashed trees and vines, rode through mud with a machete in his mouth, shirtless, ululating in pain from sustained flesh wounds. Despite this you know he kissed the earth like it was a teat supple with honey before he uttered the words

“How was your weekend?”

“Pretty average, so mostly sad”

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The Monday Catchup

The Monday Catchup

Today began like any other day, by making love to a plate of eggs. I was fortunate enough to arrive at breakfast around 9:35, the end of hot breakfast and the beginning of extendo. It’s that time when the last piping hot pan of eggs gazes at me from across the servery. When you feel that kind of love you know. For those of you who enjoy the fruits that breakfast has to offer, you also know that no one shows up at 9:30 for extendo. Instead, extendo begins at precisely 10:07 with a mad rush for coffee ennemas and burnt bagels. I’ve wittnessed it. I’ve been in it. I’ve survived. This is my story.

How was your extendo?

“Hot ;-)”

“A mind numbing thrill ride of a time”

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