In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
- T.S. Eliot, “East Coker”
And lo, the Sky was rent in two, and from it boomed an echoing Voice: ‘Cease, my Children,’ though None could hear but for the tortuous Laments and ruthless Slaughter. The Sun grew Dark, and the Moon hid Her Face in the Shroud of Locusts that appeared as a Great and Thick Fog. They swarmed that Holy Temple, Frank, and consumed all the Seafood Boil with a ravenous Hunger, afflicting Philip Belin with agonizing pain. In cruel Concordance with the Sky, the Ancient and Noble Oldenborg split into two; the Earth gave way and swallowed up All who smugly believed Themselves Safe in a Harwood Double––Their Arrogance was Their damning Sin.
From the Pit emerged a Host of forty-seven fiery Arms, and on each Arm were forty-seven Hands, and on each Hand was forty-seven Fingers, and on each Finger, forty-seven Mouths, which hissed in a Horrible Unison, “Bring unto me Cecil, that We might dine as one glorious Host.” So it was done, and Cecil was brought into that place which is now called The Center For Global Engagement, and when the Host of Terrible Arms had feasted on Cecil’s flesh, It withdrew into the Depths from whence It came.
Suddenly, there was a great Earthquake, and Gaia Herself trembled to her Core, for there appeared a pale Horse! Its Rider was named Housing and Residence Life, and Hades was following close behind. They were anointed power over a fourth of the Campus to Kill by Sword, Famine, and Forced Triple. They turned Brother against Brother, Suitemate against Suitemate, Dean against Dean, Old Woman against Small Dog; there was no Hope left for my Salvation.
There, at my Final Hour, unto me appeared a Rider on a great white Horse, a Conqueror across the Battlefield, and delivered to me Salvation from mine Inequity, for the Rider’s Name was Accomodations. To the Rider I cried out, “Save me from this wicked and ill-brought Generation, for I have Claustrophobia, and I Snore a little bit, and the small-ass rooms in Clark III will be very triggering unto my Soul.” The Great Steed stamped its Feet, whinnied, and bucked, but the Rider held Fast upon the Reins. For a moment, all was silent, and in that silence, a Voice spoke unto Me. “Thy request hath been granted for thy support to My People’s Nation, Israel. Take thy righteous place in a Muddment Single,” and at once I knew that a Great Miracle had been performed There, and I Rejoiced, and praised the Dean.