Illiterate Little Elf With No Concept of Human Temperature Found To Be in Charge of CAS A/C System
By: Eliana Sheykhet
Does everyone remember Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets? Specifically, the long Slithery that jingle-jangled through the walls? Keep that in mind for this next part. As summer draws to a close I find myself walking the streets with a nice sweater, maybe a little long sleeve to ward off the morning chill. I wobble my way to my first class of the day and walk through doors that can only be opened if they’re not already in the act of closing (thank you, Questrom architects), and am hit by a blast of sub-arctic air. I am appalled. I am shocked. Reader, I am quite fucking upset, to be frank with you. I think to myself, “Not this shit again.”
As I trudge up the first flight of stairs, I think of the early days of September: the subtle aroma of sweat-drenched business suits, overripe juul smoke, and that bittersweet medley of odors that means school is back in session. I think to myself, “Do these people not know body temperature? Did they get high this morning? I would be so much better at this. They should hire me. I am super smart and know big things and concepts.”
I reach the third floor, barely. I am huffing. I am puffing. I am letting out little gasps, and people are looking at me. They all know that I haven’t been to FitRec once this semester. I want them to mind their own business, but they’re business majors. So am I.
Anyways. I make my way into the bathroom Planning on Pretending that I need to Pee because God forbid I just look in the mirror for a few seconds– but I needn’t have worried– the bathroom is empty, so I black out.
I come to, shivering, on the floor. There is water all around me and a high-pitched noise is coming from the walls. It sounds a bit like what I imagine Christmas to be, I’m Jewish so I wouldn’t know. My jacket is missing and I’m freezing. No sooner do I realize that than the room starts to heat up. Up and up the temperature goes until I’m sweating so hard that I want to kill myself. I stand gingerly and frantically look around for my jacket. After some minutes of fruitless searching, I give up; this fucking sucks.
I start making my way towards the door, but something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I turn to fully look at the mirror and let out a choked whimper. My hair is ruined, and behind me, written in what smells like watered-down Starbucks coffee, are the words “Hoos jor dadi nowh?”
Huh. Strange. The ceiling starts to shake and I start to feel like maybe I should leave the third-floor bathroom for good, but before I can get to the door, something lands behind me with a thump. It is about 3 feet tall and dressed in a strange assortment of clothing including my missing jacket. I feel myself turn feral. I love that fucking jacket.
It opens its mouth for what I assume is about to be a lengthy monologue, but I don’t give it the chance to start. I leap onto the thing with previously undiscovered agility, ripping my prized possession from its shoulders, and growl. It looks properly terrified. I turn on my heel and make my way to class, sitting in my seat with a plop that has my neighbors moving to the next row. The temperature never did bother me after that.