OLIN STACKS—In the privacy of a measly peasant corner cubby on Olin’s 7th floor, the tears and sniffles of Owen Simons ‘26 echo down the rows of desks. Approaching his 19th hour in the stacks, the unimaginable dawned on Owen and he broke down with the certainty that he had no choice but to become a lowly beggar and plead his case to the gods for an extension.
At the 29th hour, by which his assignment could have most definitely been completed, Owen had successfully drafted a ten page email to his English professor. “My heart humbly aches for more time. I have forsaken my assignment with my foolishness and implore you to grant me with your benevolence what I so desire, for I am but a simple youth.”
Owen was heard rehearsing his email out loud, seemingly having molded into the stacks and lost all dignity and shame. Passers-by were astounded by his delicate word choice and vivid imagery. Many crowded around his desk, transfixed by his poetic talents. At the conclusion of Owen’s email, all that could be heard throughout Olin were the tears of those lucky enough to witness this historical event. The crowd erupted in snaps.
Overwhelmed with support from sympathizers, Owen was certain such an esteemed English professor would surely appreciate his heartfelt email and courageously sent his prayer off. He watched as it was whisked away to await his fate. 30 seconds later, devastation ensued: “thanks. Sent from my iPhone”.
When asked for a comment, Owen’s professor replied, “ ”.
