Illustration by Amelia Madarang

The Days of Our Pods: deceit, delusion, debauchery

Unsuspecting Lewis & Clark students arrived on campus for their Fall 2020 semester, during a time that can only be described as an unprecedented fustercluck of disease and natural disaster, rivaled only by that one Copeland bathtub. Little did they know that the most dramatic, turbulent, emotional and illogical time of their lives would soon begin. This phenomenon is known as Days of our Pods.

Quickly, like the coronavirus, stories began spreading of the drama brewing, hearts breaking and backs stabbed. If you listened closely, you could hear the sighs of exhaustion from an overworked RA at any given time. Below are the true accounts of members or observers of one infamous pod, but beware, some of these students will be played by multiple people due to contract disputes. You have been warned. 

The pod in question, known as the Spruce Squad, has the following free spirits as members: Echo Forrest Sunshine ’23, Crystal Moon ’23, Xavier Goldman Sachs ’23, Phillip Groundwater ’23 and Trinityleigh Mitchell ’23. Last year, they all bonded while enjoying the greenery (wink) at Tryon. 

Goldman Sachs and his life partner of three months, Mitchell, were recently heard fighting by the reflecting pool, which scared the frogs.

“Apparently Goldman Sachs told Mitchell that he was going to be hanging out in Forrest, and she just assumed it was the dorm and not the person,” an anonymous observer said. “He tried to explain with a supply and demand curve why it was not that big of a deal. That is econ majors for you.” 

Mitchell threatened to tell everyone on campus that Goldman Sachs lived in a gated community, which prompted him to defend himself: 

“I worked for everything I have,” Goldman Sachs said. “My parents immigrated from Canada. Do you have any idea how hard that is? And it is not a gated community, by the way, it is an upscale condo.”

On the other side of campus, Groundwater was fighting his own battles. The sophomore recently learned about his evil estranged twin that his family had separated from him at birth.

“Apparently he is also from the Bay Area and goes to USC,” Groundwater said. “He has pretended to be me on multiple Zoom calls and will not stop saying ‘we are the same, brother.’ It feels like a poorly written ‘The Californians’ SNL sketch.”

Moon and Sunshine recently had a falling out in that one really cold spot in the J.R. Howard hallway, quite loudly.

“I heard that Sunshine girl call Moon a backstabber because she went to the Bon without her,” an unnamed professor said. “I get that the school needs these pods but it is becoming so annoying, assigning people for group projects is like mapping the seating chart at a wedding where all the family members hate each other. I really am not paid enough for this.”

Despite the contentious relationship between the Spruce Squad members, they all came together to become the crimelords of the LC campus. Their plan? Stealing all the free condoms from dorm halls and selling them at a very steep price. 

But in their very secret lair, the Coop, they found evidence that Vim Veevil, with his 24 karat monocle and handlebar mustache, was using the saliva from the COVID-19 tests to clone the entire student body. Until next time, like sands through an hourglass, these are the days of our pods.

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