Students were shocked to see paramedics so late on Halloween as the ambulance arrived at the Regenstein library at 11am. Students skipping their 8 and 9:30 am classes interrupted their cognitive haze to stare as a mysterious figure was dragged on a stretcher out of the broken revolving doors. As the Dealer’s Murder and Incidents representative, I decided to investigate.
The person was hard to make out, but some students began murmuring. “Did Jenson go back to the Reg last night?” “The brutalist architecture takes another victim!” Yet one idea suffused the crowd. “Is that fun?” As I approached, the crowd dispersed. After I aggressively accosted a paramedic, they finally let me inspect the body. I confirmed the impossible. Fun has died, stabbed to death with a HUM paper, here at the University of Chicago.
I immediately began yelling at the first responders. How could they let this happen? It’s their fault fun is dead! I really let them have it. After their tears subsided, they pointed me inside the Reg. They whispered, “B Level,” quaking at imperceptible joints within their legs. Huh. That’s weird. They’re probably just ghosts, though. Happens all the time on Halloween. I rushed into the building and followed the trail of candy corn down the stairs – not the stairs, I detoured towards the elevator. I did not want to appear out-of-breath to whatever possible monster lurking in the forbidden zone of the old irradiated district.
What I found down there disturbed me. There were policemen rushing between aisles, cameras flashing, athletes lifting heavy books, trench-coated fellows excavating a giant hole in the hidden part of the B level. This was wrong. Nowhere did it feel like fun died. Everything was normal. I immediately began yelling at all these people. How dare they delude everybody outside? How dare they try to trick me? They were evidently malevolent spirits trying to snuff out what was good in the world, and it was my job to stop them. Most people did not react. Those that did turned and screamed. Something about green skin. It’s weird, because skin is supposed to be green, so why were they upset about it?. I strolled to the chalk outline of the body, shoving my way through the frail and gaunt policemen with ease. I kneeled down beside the outline, and the chalk began to shimmer. Shifting like sand, some cruel wizard had cast a spell. I tried to fight it, through the sheer power of will, gritting my teeth, shutting my eyes. It did not work. When I opened my eyes, the chalk stared back into the abyss of my soul. Fun. Fun had appeared before my eyes, but only through its absence – in big bubble letters. During the morning of Halloween, on this happy holiday, Fun played a trick on us – it appears only through its absence.
Soon, policemen were shaking me and taking me up the stairs. I can’t let them take me. I would HATE to work on the A level, it’s so musty and all the annoying underclassmen are there. They take me up the stairs and I am breathing hard. We pass the A level and I breathe a sigh of relief. As long as I am anywhere else, I will be ok.