By Yasi Stein||
Students and community members everywhere are completely disregarding the Derech Eretz pledge we all just signed. Rumor has it Alex Stroker fled within the first 24-hours and hundreds of smashed ID cards have been lying across the main entrance floor ever since. The once welcoming “honor”, “courage”, “kindness” and “community” posters have been slashed and reassembled to create flags redefining territories around the school campus. No one is safe.
From the very first week the seniors have demanded the first floor as their own. Through this they have used their power to monopolize the food distribution from vending machines as trading goods with other grades. The 12th grade class has stayed nimble and quick as they keep guards on watch at every stairwell outlet and rotate to take naps and have an occasional Twix in Trajt’s “temporary” office/box/aquarium.
The second floor hallways have become dark, due to the Sunday on Monday threats coming from the environmental club dictatorship. But there is still question as to what the flicker of light is, coming from the STEAM lab – maybe a candle left from shabbat, maybe Mr. Maiman reprogramming the 3D printers to take over the school. It seems as though the whole 10th grade class has been preoccupied spinning in the chairs in 206 and taking selfies and have yet to notice the chaos that has ravaged the JBHA environment.
Though timid, the freshmen have come well equipped and have conveniently used their highlighters, binders, binder dividers, staplers, staples, rulers, protractors, hole-punchers, and multiple calculators to gate up all of the doors leading into the third floor. Meanwhile, Mrs. Sittenfield has refused to leave the library boundaries, and has been renting out bean bag chairs in return for two bags of party mix and a Snapple per hour.
Just last night there was a threat of tyranny as all of the Apple TVs in the building were hacked, and played a singular video. The eyes were censored by a black bar and the voice was clearly deepened, but it was the white turtleneck, beige vest, and blonde middle part that were dead giveaways. It was Mrs. Schuman. The message went as follows: “I have been waiting for this time for years now. There can only be one leader. You’re either with me or against me, *pans to Jake Ferman rocking frantically tied up to a chair with a rag in his mouth* and trust me you don’t want to be against me.”