I write this column as a man who fears for his life. I am living, at this point, in bowel-shaking, unremitting horror at the terror before our very eyes on our campus. As Opinion Editor, I have received letters that have upset, outraged or tripped my gag reflex – and sometimes all three. The letter I am reprinting below, however, is perhaps the most horrifying letter of them all.
“I am Skwelthor, Lord of the Squirrels. Pay heed, you pathetic humans, for this warning may save your lives. We have recently acquired the card of identification of the one you call Greg Joubert. Do not make light of our evil scheme! At first, we were going to use this card of identification to purchase meals at the Union of Students, but she who is called Tasha Rainwater has given me a better idea. Our plan is to use the card of identification to purchase a gun from a shady gun store along with some beer and cigarettes. We will use this gun to extract wallets and valuables from students as well as their beer and cigarettes. I have run my plan by the Squirrel Council, and it will soon commence. Rise, Squirrel Nation!”
The letter is signed, Lord Skwelthor, general studies sophomore.
I know not what course others may take, but I believe this is more terrible than the relocation of the entire Arkansas population to Baton Rouge, albeit with more teeth. I am, and you should be as well, afraid.
The history of the squirrels’ war on humanity, at least on this campus, is a dark and bloody untold history that few know. For example, were you aware that Squirrels created the “Evo Devo” slogan? I didn’t think so.
Their reign of terror stretches much further back than this. It was a squirrel that assassinated Huey Long, not the unfortunate Dr. Weiss, who was merely presenting the senator with a commemorative chocolate revolver.
Squirrels have been instrumental in all LSU football defeats by chewing up the field before games and biting players. This, thankfully, has been arrested of late by the University’s large, and quite hungry, feral cat population. But every now and then, one obviously gets by.
You know who removed the green stone named George in front of the Paul M. Hebert Law Center? You guessed it, facility services workers. The squirrels, however, managed to play a significant behind-the-scenes role in forming the CCCC. Much like the terrorists, they hate us for our freedom.
I did a little research into this present-day furry terror network. Its leader, Lord Skwelthor, is the infamous and elusive albino squirrel who lives by the library. Long considered the product of over-active imaginations, or at least two hits of LSD, I have personally seen this elusive beast. He is large yet agile and weighs almost 20 pounds. He looks a bit like a groundhog, though I don’t believe anyone would say that to his face. He means to pillage us.
How can we stop these terrible, godless rodent barbarians? Prayer, for one. The other is a campus-wide squirrel-hunting season during spring break. Still, that could take years and cost millions of lives. We must call forth a champion to stand up and challenge Lord Skewlthor in single combat for control of the school. Who will be our hero? Chancellor O’Keefe, perhaps? Student Government president-elect Chris Odinet? Whoever it is, we must act soon before the beastly hordes destroy everything we hold dear. Generations of Tigers unborn are counting on us.
By the way, if anyone thinks I’ve gone completely off the deep end, and for those who think I lost it long ago, I only say check tomorrow’s date and wish you a happy April Fools.
Special thanks to Elliot Cassidy for penning the squirrel letter, as well as Alice Wack, Greg Joubert and Tasha Rainwater for making this one of the more light-hearted subjects to appear in this session.
I promise to return to my usual smart-ass self by Monday.
 
Ryan is a history senior. Contact him
at [email protected]