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‘Twas the Night Before Finals

Words by Kiana Duncan

‘Twas the night before finals, and all through the dorms,
no students were sleeping, which wasn’t the norm.
Their notes were sat on their laps with care,
in hopes that their professor would never be there.

The students were stressed and nowhere near bed,
while wondering if it would be easier just to be dead.
With my roommate in hell and me alongside,
neither could settle down because we were so caffeine-deprived.
When out in the halls we heard a large splatter,
we threw open our door to investigate the matter.
When we looked outside to examine the clash,
it would be only a drunk frat guy, a fellow Golden Flash.
Then an email from professors giving our project one final blow,
would have our lives hitting what seemed an all-time low.
When what to our bloodshot eyes would appear,
but a freshman at our door, his eyes wide with fear!
With the quaking in his boots and his jumping like a whip,
we knew in a moment that we must help him quick.
His words were fast and out promptly they came,
He knew each of his tormentors, and he called them by name:
Oh Micro! Oh Stats! Oh Organic Chem and Physics!
Art of Theater! Microbiology! Newswriting, I’m quitting!
Let’s take to the streets! Let’s hide out in a bar!
Now run away, run away, run away all!
As all college students do right before they cry,
he Googled the income of a stripper and gave up with a sigh.
With his grade at stake, and his future too,
he gazed up and said “Well, I suppose Old Navy will do.
I’m not great with writing, and I’m awful at proofs.”
My roomie and I looked at each other. We knew what to do.
“Listen, we know just how to turn this around.
It may not get better, but we can get rid of that frown!”
He looked up and grinned; the game was afoot.
We were going to make sure freshmen stereotypes stayed put.
With all the productivity we certainly could lack,
we first chose a 1 a.m. room cleaning, followed by a snack.
We ran to Rosie’s, our breath short and airy
and added to the freshmen 15 with a shake that tasted like strawberry.
We finished up the mozz sticks lined up in a row
then went for another, because we had meal plan to blow.
Next on our list was to find a strange place to sleep,
so we ended up at Quaker, curled up in a seat.
Then, with 24 quiet hours, no one lets out a squeak,
except for us, who challenged the RAs to find and burn our lease.
We ran down the halls, shrieking and ready.
They would never have caught us if it wasn’t for the state of my belly.
We ran back and slammed the door loud, so I yelped.
Then, we did the unthinkable, and I gasped at myself.
I pulled out my laptop and we gasped without dread.
Netflix was on, and we laid down for the night, content and fed.
“Grey’s Anatomy” and “Supernatural,” we put Netflix to work.
New seasons of “Mad Men,” “Doctor Who” and “Parks and Rec” were just perks.
Drowsy and underprepared, we parted ways for a short doze,
and sensed the dread the next morning when the sun finally rose.
Walking to finals, the truth was clear as crystal
Christmas would not be here until we had suffered a little.
So cold and exhausted, students everywhere sighed
“Happy Finals Week to all, and to all a good try.”

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