The FLASH

Monday, October 23, 2023

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Some weird people show up on campus now and again. There was the time when a mysterious man was observed taking off his shirt in front of the girl’s dormitory… and there was this reporter’s personal favorite, the time when a delirious woman attempted to abscond with the groundskeeper’s car. But none of the repercussions of these isolated incidents comes close to those of the occurrences of the night of Tuesday, October 17. Little enough has been revealed about what transpired that night, but this reporter was able to glean two facts. The first is that a man with a large hat and a monocle was caught on campus cameras at 12:45 am carrying some sort of metal cage in his hand and holding it a good deal away from his body as if it could in some way harm him. The second is this: that only a few days after this strange event, the squirrels began to appear. 

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The first of these facts is of little concern. In hindsight of all that transpired, many have speculated about just who this mysterious figure was. One popular belief perpetuated by the student body was that this man was a radical Catholic responding to the pope’s speech a few months earlier in which he seemed to declare “holy war” upon the “Lutheran miscreants.” When this reporter asked the pope to attend a private interview on the topic, he declined politely, offering this sole explanation: “God speaks (this reporter did not hear “God speak”), He doesn't want me to (attend the interview).” But this reporter begins to digress. It is important to not get caught up in the details of serious matters such as this. The masses want news and that is what this reporter gives them. They want it to be concise and unbiased. Details are important, yes, but we must not focus only on the small things. It is most important to see the big picture… But this reporter begins to digress again. All one must know is the circumstances from which the consequences derived. The uninformed reader might inquire as to what consequences these might be. It is this reporter's duty to make sure that the reader is informed. These are the believed consequences of this mysterious figure’s sojourn to campus that fateful autumn evening: the squirrels.

The disappearances began a few days after the mystery man’s visit. Sporadic at first, but increasingly numerous as the week went on. By the 19th, three students had vanished. School president Dr. Dan Schierenbeck had this to say on the subject: “We are still searching for them, but for the time being we will still be having classes.” Students in study hall were given the grim task of joining the search party for the missing ones. Schierenbeck also made a comment on this controversial policy when pressed: “Piffle! The most experienced faculty members and I have discussed it for a long time. We already know that nobody actually gets any work done in study hall, so it is only proper that they put their free time to good use.” He offered no comment when this reporter returned later that day to inquire about the rumors of two other students who had gone missing while undergoing the search. Meanwhile, campus faculty put the collective brainpower of Professor Schierenbeck (the elder) to work in figuring out what was going on. After only a few moments of silence and deliberation he came to this conclusion: “I have noticed a very severe lack of small animals around campus lately, especially squirrels. He went on to do a complex array of mathematical equations. I could only conclude that some type of small rodentia was on the loose and responsible for the student disappearances as well. The math all checks out.” The faculty, grasping at straws (and knowing better than to question Professor Schierenbeck), called in a professional hunter to deal with the threat… Professor Naumann. This reporter was able to stop him shortly before he left for the woods. “I always told them that animals were evil and deserved death, but nobody ever believed me. [begins loading his gun] They wouldn’t even let me hunt on campus until just now.” He began to walk and this reporter followed after him, but he motioned and said, “Stay. The forest is no place for the likes of you.” He has not been heard from since.

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Friday, October 27, 2023

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On Tuesday evening came the long-expected return of our valiant Professor Naumann. He stumbled up the steps from the softball field holding something furry aloft in his hand and muttering some words. He was spotted by a group of three who came running over immediately. Grant Bernthal recalls the somber scene: “He was covered head to foot in cuts and bruises and looked to be ready to collapse.” He continued, “Seeing the reality of the situation, I knew I was in trouble.” He told his two comrades, Mark Mayhew and Daniel Hein, to go and help the man while he slipped off to the kitchen. “There, my eyes passed over all of the knives and kitchen utensils and rested on a frying pan lying on a burner (which he picked up).” “When I exited the kitchen, I saw that Daniel and Mark were frantically trying to drag Professor Naumann (who had indeed collapsed) into the gym doors.” It was then that he spotted for the first time those responsible for the gruesome attack on Professor Naumann and the student disappearances. Those evil beings, the devil’s oven mitts… squirrels. “They were swarming up the hillside right toward us.” Bernthal recalled. “I don’t know what came over me, but I ran in front of my two friends (who were pulling the badly injured Professor inside) and began whacking the squirrels with all of my strength.” The time he allowed his comrades to pull Naumann inside and slam the door just as badly wounded Bernthal pulled himself in. Bernthal’s actions that day won him Immanuel Lutheran’s highest honor: The golden key for his letter jacket. It also gave the students and faculty an early warning of the terror that was about to befall them. All that night, the school faculty held an emergency meeting. Rumors began to circulate among the students as to why. Some said that it was because they were thinking about stopping classes because of the disappearances. If only they were right.

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The next day, bright and early, Immanuel students viewed this text message sent to their phones: “Despite the threat of rabid squirrels, classes will continue as normal today…” Most wondered what this all meant. Due to the lack of information obtainable from viewing the campus newspaper, most had no idea what was going on. Students returned to campus that morning to attend classes as usual, only… they noticed a slight change in the curriculum. In first hour 9th grade science, Professor Rodebaugh dusted off his old Tai Chi videos and spent the entire class time teaching his students how to fight in hand to hand combat and making them run a tossed-together obstacle course on the teahouse lawn. When questioned about her thoughts on the new course material, one no-name freshman said, “It’s good to finally be learning something useful in class.” Professor Rodebaugh seemed ecstatic that his students finally seemed interested in his course material. “My small group of freshmen may be good at something yet.” he said. It was announced at chapel that students were no longer allowed in the lower campus woods. Since most people didn’t venture down that way all too often anyway (it was much more fun wasting time on their phones), there wasn’t too great an outcry about this. 

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-Earnest Lambert Watkins