Chad Leverton’s #tuesday was #transformative to say the least. The situation went from typical to tragic in seconds when Leverton’s legs popped off in the middle of his Plays and Playwrights class.
Junior Bryhanna Cockfield attested to the horrific sight. “I looked up from Tinder and was like, ‘Woah, that dude’s legs just popped off!’ because like his legs had literally just popped off. Like literally. I put it on my story. Look!”
Following five filtered selfies of Cockfield and a few surreptitious pictures her roommate, there was in fact a picture of Chad and his lifeless legs. “His disembodied legs looked like Spanish hams. I would know because I studied abroad in Barthelona.” The interview ended abruptly when Cockfield realized that she had failed to put a picture of the situation on Instagram.
Professor Cobb Jacobson attested to the peculiarity of the situation. “I was just starting my lecture on the gruesome and shocking end to Oedipus Rex. I heard a splurt-y kind of noise turned to see blood spewing from his legs onto his peers and their belongings. It tied pretty well into Oedipus. I’m glad the kid’s balls are ok though.”
Adam Fried was also on the scene, “I have to say it looked pretty bad. I’m pre-med so I applied my medical knowledge the best I could. I told him where his legs were and asked if he might be dehydrated. He remained calm throughout. I’m going to be a great doctor.”
Vignette writers travelled to Children’s Hospital to ask Chad about his experience. “Yeah, I mean, I was just kind of leaning back a little, kind of adjusting ‘cause those chairs are hella uncomfy, and then it happened. I was just trying to get comfortable in my chair, you know? But hey, my junk feels fresh as fuck. Like an American flag rustling gently in the breeze of a New Hampshire fall day.”
The interview was cut short as the stump that is now Chad had to be carried to the bathroom by his nurse, whose rack he proceeded to compliment.
One of the perks of living on campus at Tulane is the free laundry. However, if you hate money, you can pay for someone to do your laundry for you. The “Premium Plan” costs $1,000 per academic year and is very popular. In the interest of science, we sent our crack Vignette mathematicians, researchers, and philosophers to explore alternate ways to spend that cool grand:
- 500 shares of Apple stock in 1985; which would now be worth $57,500.
- 1,990 shots on 50 cent shot night
- 112.6 copies of the Lilo and Stitch Soundtrack on CD
- 3.77 days of attendance at Tulane
- 400 round trip streetcar rides to Bourbon Street, which is 4,000 miles, which is the distance between New Orleans and Reykjavik!
- Unlimited internet porn and the premium laundry service
- 127,925 Icelandic Króna
- An ok washing machine
- President Michael Fitts for 7 hours
- 4 tickets to Voodoo, but you can’t buy any food and you have to walk there
- 26,182 fl. oz of Kirkland Light
- 47.6 liters of Kirkland Signature Vodka
- Racial equality
- Sweaters for the entire staff of City Diners
- 2 intramural soccer refs who will look the other way for all fouls
- 30 bunnies to do with what you please
- 33 Thursday night roundtrip ubers to f&ms
- The left boot of the Robert E Lee statue at Lee Circle
- 6 minutes of direct eye contact with Steve Buscemi
- 3 of Joe Biden’s 12 burmese pythons
- Custom one direction emojis (Zayn is extra)
- 200 tabs of LSD
- 7.7 grams of molly
- 5 grams of heroin
- Loyola’s endowment
- Some fucking dignity
It was revealed last week that members of the Tulane Parents Facebook group have finally achieved what scientists call “Gossip Nirvana.” While posing as a middle-aged woman named Carole, an undercover Vignette reporter discovered that the parents have finally figured out a way to keep track of every child’s every detail and have been living in a state of perpetual bliss ever since.
The Facebook group serves as a database with state-of-the-art methods for monitoring each student’s grades, friends, caloric intake, bowel movements, piercings, and sex lives. “Knowledge frees you,” said Mary McArdle. “Now that I know every detail of my little Sandra’s life, I believe that I am become one with all of humanity. I have defeated menopause and I will be reborn, transcending the never-ending cycle of life and death.”
“Many seemingly unrevealing communications with your child can actually yield mounds of viable data,” beamed mother Rita Schwartz as she calibrated a Turing Machine to decode a text from her son while achieving imperturbable stillness of mind after the fires of desire.
“For instance, if your daughter posts a picture of her and her sorority sisters at a date party, chances are there are at least a few girls itching their crotches in the background. I mean, they called it “chlamidterms” for a reason. Boom: now you know who’s got crabs. Run the facial recognition, track the IP addresses of their snatch-scratching dates, and suddenly you have a TMI transmission pathway that will deliver you into what Hindus call moksha.”
Schwartz was unable to be reached for further comment, as she was busy glowing as radiantly as the Buddha himself, comfortably couched in a vortex of ‘likes,’ freed from all suffering, and open to all the universe’s possibilities.
Sterling Fitzfire, the president of the group, was able to achieve such a high state of illumination after creating an interactive map locating every single ill-advised fleur de lis tattoo that he was able to control time and attend the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” tour in 1991.