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Help! Cecil Got Abs and Won’t Stop Fucking My Roommate!

 

To the Pomona Administration and Trustee Board, With Great Urgency: 

I am currently embroiled in a crisis with Pomona housing that has lasted almost a month now. I have gotten no response from Housing and Residential life even though I have sent several strongly-worded emails. I am very vexed about this issue and don’t know what to do. Unfortunately, I see no other option than to send an open letter to the Pomona administration, in the hopes that my plea will reach the ears of someone who will help me in my time of need. 

I understand that self-care and being a bad bitch are important parts of life, but Cecil’s hot girl summer has simply gotten out of hand. Since coming back to campus, Cecil’s Abercrombie and Fitch six-pack has only gotten more defined. Typically, I would not have an issue with this, as working out (#gainz) can be great for the mind and soul; however, since Cecil glowed up over break, he just won’t stop fucking my roommate.

The sexiling has gotten out of hand. I’ve been sleeping in the Carnegie Foyer for three days now. The bust of Abraham Lincoln’s head watches over me as I toss and turn on my makeshift cot, reminiscing for the time when little blue feathers didn’t coat the floor of my dorm room like fresh morning dew. Not to mention the image of my roommate coughing up a clump of blue feathers at Frank. That is something that I will never be able to unsee, and there are no Monsour therapists available until December.

On the rare occasions that I do still venture into my room— my old oasis, my once refuge, the place I used to go to to find solace and snacks— I am overwhelmed by the pungent aroma of Axe body spray intermingled with a hint of fresh perspiration. Cecil is often hunched in the corner, doing ab crunches, while my roommate is fast asleep, blissfully ignorant of the pain their ongoing tryst has caused me. 

Where do I go from here? What do I do? My once hopeful demeanor and cheerful outlook on life have crumbled under the weight of Cecil’s rock hard biceps and chiseled abdominal muscles. Little blue feathers appear to me everywhere now, and although I blink and they vanish, I fear I am going mad. My roommate is fully bewitched under Cecil’s spell, and there is nothing I can do to change their mind. Oh, will no one save me from this darkness? The sound of “Chirp! Chirp!” echoes in my nightmares. 

So here I am, a mere humble Pomona Student, standing in front of Gabbi Star and the Pomona administration, asking them to do something. Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop the Cecil sexiling (or Cexiling, as I have come to call it). I hope my plea does not fall on deaf ears. My life is in your hands now. 

Sincerely, and with much urgency, 

Anonymous Pomona student 47474747

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