October 15, 2006
Dorm Building Depressed by Departure of Weekend Revelers
By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor
Hagerstown’s parking lot reflects its inner loss
(College Park, MD)—University of Maryland dormitory Hagerstown Hall found itself inconsolable this morning as many weekend partiers began the mass exodus back to their sober, collegiate lifestyles, leaving the dorm filthy and partially vacant.
To make matters worse, many of Hagerstown’s favorite residents will spend the remainder of the day cramming for a full week of coursework, thus leaving its halls in a sort of emotional purgatory.
“God, I feel so alone,” bemoaned Hagerstown, as some blackbirds fluttered from its shrubbery into the overcast horizon. “There are only nine people on the second floor right now. And half of them are sleeping. I wish someone would shower just so I could feel some warmth.”
Hagerstown’s loneliness was compounded by its sense of aesthetic disarray.
“Have you seen all these goddamn beer pong cups?” lamented an embitter Hagerstown. “They’re everywhere — in the bushes, under beds — hell, there’s even one in washing machine 7. Somebody’s boyfriend puked in stairway D, and my urinals are full of nickels and condom wrappers. God, I need some Xanax. Stat.”
Haggerstown’s colleagues had little sympathy this weekend, however, citing its chronic pessimism and insatiable need for attention.
“What a bitch,” huffed Baltimore Hall, as it savored the wafting smoke from a crushed Parliament menthol. “She thinks she has it bad? I had three rapes occur inside me last semester, and she didn’t even offer condolences. I felt so, so dirty. Hagerstown can burn to the ground for all I care.”
Hagerstown’s parking lot reflects its inner loss
(College Park, MD)—University of Maryland dormitory Hagerstown Hall found itself inconsolable this morning as many weekend partiers began the mass exodus back to their sober, collegiate lifestyles, leaving the dorm filthy and partially vacant.
To make matters worse, many of Hagerstown’s favorite residents will spend the remainder of the day cramming for a full week of coursework, thus leaving its halls in a sort of emotional purgatory.
“God, I feel so alone,” bemoaned Hagerstown, as some blackbirds fluttered from its shrubbery into the overcast horizon. “There are only nine people on the second floor right now. And half of them are sleeping. I wish someone would shower just so I could feel some warmth.”
Hagerstown’s loneliness was compounded by its sense of aesthetic disarray.
“Have you seen all these goddamn beer pong cups?” lamented an embitter Hagerstown. “They’re everywhere — in the bushes, under beds — hell, there’s even one in washing machine 7. Somebody’s boyfriend puked in stairway D, and my urinals are full of nickels and condom wrappers. God, I need some Xanax. Stat.”
Haggerstown’s colleagues had little sympathy this weekend, however, citing its chronic pessimism and insatiable need for attention.
“What a bitch,” huffed Baltimore Hall, as it savored the wafting smoke from a crushed Parliament menthol. “She thinks she has it bad? I had three rapes occur inside me last semester, and she didn’t even offer condolences. I felt so, so dirty. Hagerstown can burn to the ground for all I care.”