With the University’s closing coupled with the imminent apocalypse, students are trying not to let the news get them down.
Instead, most seem to have alarmingly high spirits for finals week, a situation University officials deem “perturbing.”
When the news of the University’s closing was released, a loud “holler” rose from the ranks of the Superblock, said Sam Smutlin, Pioneer Hall resident adviser.
Students from residence halls, Dinnaken House, University Village and surrounding areas soon flooded Washington Avenue Southeast, cheering and screaming unidentified obscenities, drinking unidentified substances from a variety of bottles and smoking unidentified smokes.
“Dude, we sold out of cigs in, like, two minutes,” giggled Craig Lubowitz, a clerk at Harvard Market East.
On the West Bank, Carlson School of Management students sat motionless in their plush classrooms, unsure of what to do next.
“Um, does this mean I have to find a job by myself?” countered senior Ricardo McProphitt.
A tiny minority of students expressed concern about the distraction the apocalypse will pose on finals week.
“I, like, have to study!” shrieked Jemia Blork, a sophomore in the College of Liberal Arts and member of the sorority Something Something Delta. “I’ll, like, just die if I flunk French again.”
At Espresso Royale in Dinkytown, a few stalwart students continued to study for finals, though the cafe’s employees had abandoned the establishment to join in widespread pillaging.
Licucia Schomez, a CLA junior, was studying furiously for her history final. When asked why she didn’t join the fun or just go home, she blankly replied, “What? I don’t want to waste my tuition dollars.”
After several hours of intense “rocking out” throughout campus, the University’s former students began collapsing in what was concluded to be a happy delirium.
Jeb Gertz, an Institute of Technology sophomore, was found sprawled against the Chipotle building in Stadium Village with a suspiciously cute girl.
“Rad. No more class. Now I can just … explore other options,” Gertz said suggestively. The girl giggled flirtatiously.
Harmon Dibble, University professor of philosophy, was found across the street outside Stub & Herb’s Drinking Emporium, sitting on the ground with his head in his arms, rocking crazily back and forth.
“I didn’t know … I didn’t realize … I would feel so lost … that it would be so … unexplainable …” Dibble muttered somewhat incoherently. Other faculty members agreed with his sentiments.
Bessie Worble, a middle-aged woman who seemed to know what she was talking about, said that as soon as they “come down,” former students will pack their leftover alcohol to endure the apocalypse elsewhere, since the effect it will have on the University campus is still being speculated.

Bob Lauradrier is the Daily’s news chick and smut handler. She wrote this article to prove that editors can indeed write.