Partly Cloudy, 64°
Dean of the College Rashid Zia was spotted crouching in the bushes outside Whiskey Republic, muttering “Well, well, well, you’ve fallen right into my little trap” to a group of Brown students violating the University’s COVID regulations.
“I’ve been waiting to pounce all night long,” murmured Dean Zia under his breath, lowering his binoculars and preparing to approach the students with formal warnings. “You fools must have assumed you were exempt from my rules, but oh ho! How wrong you were!”
“Looks like someone neglected to pay attention during the B-Well education module,” said Dean Zia with a rueful chuckle, ruffling through a shrub to get a closer look. “Surely all the patrons inside this den of iniquity are not a part of your pod! There will be a hefty price to pay for such a grave transgression. Quite hefty, indeed…”
“It seems that time has run out on your clever, clever scheme,” added Dean Zia, picking twigs and stray cigarettes out of his hair as he crawled further out of the bushes. “Perhaps now you will understand that you are never beyond my reach. You tried to defy me with your drunken excursion, but you’ve only sunken deeper into my clutches.”
At press time, Dean Zia was seen dragging the offending students to the lair of President Christina Paxson, warning them that this was only the beginning of a long and painful reckoning.
