Students may never recover from the fleshy paste strewn upon campus, the creatures’ cries with no godly business in the throats of a ranch horse. No godly business.
Something fishy is happening at the University of Tulsa. No, it’s not the mandatory re-education of University Ambassadors, nor is it the ghosts in the machines of hi-flex classrooms. It’s not even the mysteriously quiet search for the next provost. The walls whisper of another tale, another warning: beware the falling horse.
Indeed, this arcane advice answers a fear literally no one had: the idea of a plump pachyderm materializing above them, then landing all 600+ pounds on their now-dead corpse. Originally, the appearances of these frequent fliers were seen in small ways. A chess piece moved without thought, purchasing a new car engine to match a horse’s power, summoning a mount in Dungeons and Dragons to squish a pesky wizard.
Then things escalated. TU campus is now a minefield of pack animals, some equipped with explosive devices preventing their removal. Whoever is in charge of the teleporting terrors has mastered the art of fear.
Changing the volume on your computer? The shadow of a falling horse changes in size until you’re a flat paste on the floor.
Looking both ways before crossing the street? That horse above you will cross you up—and it won’t even pay for your tuition because it doesn’t have insurance.
Finishing an essay? Do I even need to say anything? You’re donezo. A complete goner.
But listen here, dear reader, I have found out the source!
Yes, the ethereal essence of horse-flight has been made known to me.
In the deep caverns of Chapman, the decrepit halls of Kendall, the generic awfulness of Keplinger, none of these campus corners provided the truth!
To find that, one had to dig deeper. Dig harder. Consult the oracles. Toss the bones. Tempt fate. Ask the grounds crew. Deliver pizzas. Canoodle, schmooze, bribe. All of these sacrifices, menial jobs and breaches of morality led
to one place: Oral Roberts University.
Upon contacting a sleeper agent embedded in their educational armada, various pieces of intel crossed into my lane. These classified documents clarified the plan concocted by the giant hands or ORU. Their first plan was to send plague-ridden students to TU, though the university failed to realize COVID was spreading yet again on campus and simply converted these students to the way of the ‘cane. Following this failure, ORU sent poor provost candidates to Collins Hall, but basically no one knows what goes on in Collins so that also failed.
Indeed, the only way they could strike at the university was by converting precious student funds embezzled from financial institutions to remake the university in their image, cutting the arts and defiling TU’s traditions… Wait, no. That was the previous presidential administration of TU.
Ahem. Upon realizing TU was its own worst enemy, the heads of ORU decided launching horses would be a good use of their catapult, and you know what they’re right. Maybe TU should incorporate that into their mental health lectures.
