Local Girl Struck by Lightning Outside of Happy Hour, Rallies

It’s only the second week of classes and coincidentally everything about college has suddenly become actually difficult. Nursing majors are already on their third exam, engineering students have to build a bridge out of toothpicks and marshmallows by next week, and Humanities majors have to give a presentation even though they have terrible stage fright. But instead of being responsible for once in their lives, many have decided their pressing academics are a “future me problem” and continue on teetering between okay and drunk marrying the Dirac statue. With the onslaught of freaky Floridian weather, many have found themselves caught up in the types of weather situations that will totally trash their new chunky Filas. While many have gotten more than what they bargained for, to one lucky lady Happy Hour brought more of a shock than usual.

“Picture this, Moose cards out, and we’re ready for a second sylly week banger. But then these storm clouds come out of nowhere and decide its time to rock someone’s world even more than when the beat drops in “Mo Bamba.” It was wild man, she was talking about how she loves how the place managed to curate a signature puke smell and Ka-boom! Everything happened so fast man, we just didn’t know what to do,” said sixth-year senior, Art Barlow, as he took a long dab to help him process the unfortunate turn of events. “It was like a light switch; she started to talk about algorithms and the theorem of life as we knew it. She was like a sexy Einstein, but it wasn’t Halloween; her hair was just like all static and shit. And then, instead of going to the E.R., she just kept going, bro.”

I̵͙͂̾̚ ̸̟͋͒ͅh̷̤̀̓o̷͔̼͠n̴̙͇͍̏̓ę̷̟̘̀͛̍s̷̢̅t̵̡̧̒͗l̷̪̗͍̀y̷̧̩̭͊ ̷̭͕̣́̆̇f̴̭̰͆̈͗e̶̼̣͖͠e̸̡̜̤͆̽l̵̪͔̳̏ ̴͈̙̋g̴̥͆ŗ̴͓̏̿e̷̜̻͋̈́̄ă̸̛͙͔͘t̴̘͇̪͛.̵̠́ ̸͉̠̐̕͜B̶͔͑̓̆ĕ̸̤̃͌ẗ̶̯́t̷͎̥͗̀e̸͉̖̔ṟ̶͈͐̚͜ ̶̠́̏t̷͉̍h̴̭͆̇̾a̸̺͔̪̐̐͝n̴͈͒͗ ̶̮̘̒͑ͅe̴̪̔͋̈́v̷͇̆̽̄ȩ̶́̿̀r̴̫̖͈̊̈́̕.̶̺̬̾ ̶̛̰̋I̶̭̳͐̅ ̵̹̋t̴̗͐̐h̶͈͎͝i̴̖͘n̵͎̪̣̈̀̑ḱ̵̬͓͔͝ ̵̹̅͆͠I̵̘̫̰͒̓̕ ̵̻̔̄͝m̵̝̏ḯ̸̧͆̉ĝ̷̼͔͖h̷̤̜͑̅̚t̴̩̮̑̀ ̴̪̮̏̐̐c̴̨̤̺̋̒h̸͎̓̅͂a̷͔͓͋ͅn̶̪̪̓̋g̵̩͙̹̒̌ḙ̸̿ ̸͔̋̍f̴̈́̇ͅŕ̶̰̹͛ó̵͉̭̼͐m̸̳̤̬̅ ̶̱̤̀̍E̷̞̎͊W̷̩̥̝̐͠M̶͕̄̈͝ ̴̨͐̓a̴̻̚ǹ̵̗̹͚͋d̵̢̹͖͗ ̷̖̫̥̈́̍i̶̛̦͉̅͊n̵͕͎̑͛t̴̛͖̦̒̐o̵̖͒ ̵͎̌̐m̷̬̫̋͛ȧ̶̜̙̫t̸̡̟͎͐h̶̛͖̥͎͗̽e̵̪͎̱͊̚m̴̮̹̘̀͆ȁ̴̹͓t̸̞̠̐ḭ̶̧͓͗c̶̤̝̮̕s̶̪͆͑̃,̴͕̥͎̃” says Young, seemingly blurring the lines between reality and impossibility with every word she spoke. Each syllable began to mesh together and somehow even created a pocket for another dimension - one that rivaled the world-building of “Interstellar.” “Ḯ̴̧ ̴̟͆a̷̦͝m̶̯̌ ̶̡͘t̵͔͒r̴̗̀a̷̩̚n̶̥͂s̵̡̅c̷͈͌ẽ̷͔n̸̞͊d̵̖̒ę̶̔d̸̡̏.̴̜̃ ̴̙̽I̸͚̒ ̶͑͜ą̵̈́ḿ̶͉ ̷͓̄t̸̥́h̷͉̓e̸͓̋ ̷̨͘ṉ̶̎ẽ̷̳x̴̥͝t̵̩̍ ̴̹̅p̷̖̑r̵͈͝ỏ̵̟p̶̘͊h̵̲͌e̶̝͌t̷̢̄.̴͎̄,” said Young before re-writing the laws of the universe on the one shitty paper towel she acquired after levitating behind the bar.

Take this as a lesson, to the ones who were birthed in Satan’s second asshole (Florida); if it’s above a 10% chance of rain, just stay in. It’s just not worth it to swim in your own clothes. But to those who had more fortunate lives (aka out-of-state students), blissfully unaware of how godless the weather can be in Florida, don’t wave your keys out in the open like that - you’re not Benjamin Franklin. In the meantime, it’s the end of the second week, and if you’re not already sick of classes, you’re a nerd. Also, don’t forget that discussion board post that’s due tomorrow night at 11:59 folks and try to stay alive until the next syllabus week.