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The Carletonian

The Carletonian

The Carletonian

Arb Goblin 2: the squeaquel

Oh. Oh no. Carleton, there is something great and horrible looming in the arb. Even as I type these words, I feel my hands trembling as the Arb Goblin takes His first steps out of the forest. He’s free. Oh lord, he’s free. He has not walked on campus in trillions of years, since all the continents were one, since Musser had only a very light must. There is no end. Revere. Fall. The result will be no different. For you will Know. You will Know Him. And the End will come. Goodhue resident Tlerence Beeves recently gave his own thoughts on the Arb Goblin (completely unprompted, as usual), “he has shown me what I will never be. What you are. I have seen him. There is a god out there. And the Goblin has made god in His own image.” Honestly, though, he’s probably wrong. Tlerence is stupid and we all hate him. And he’s majoring in political science, making him an understandable and likely target. Further proving that point, after delivering his statement, Tlerence produced a creaking sound as his upper and lower jaws moved apart from one another, sending a cloud of thousands of tiny, stinging, insects fuming from his gullet. Classic Tlerence move, overreacting. You’re never going to hold office with that sort of bad breath, Tlerence, just give up now.

The Goblin is unlikely to mean any harm this time, especially after his recent restful 3000-year slumber. Truly, he hasn’t done much so far. His only real action so far has been the complete annihilation of Goodhue. However, many campus groups believe this may have been done at the request of Reslife, due to their longtime alliance. Additionally, that dorm is so far away that if anyone cared, they were not heard by anyone aside from our loving president. In fact, earlier this morning, she provided a statement on the ongoing situation, which reads:

“Far– endlessly, far below all creation, is the great Carl. The Carl of such magnitude, such power, such unadulterated beauty that they bear this establishment’s name. They are the Carl with a 2000-pound fist. They are the Carl-ton. Trillions of years ago, during the reign of Allie A, my predecessor, the Carl-ton carved this campus from molten snow and sheer quirkiness. And it was good. That was, until they sought to admit their first student. Arbold Goblinski was a prospective business major. That was, until the crushing expectation of having to spell the word ‘advertisement’ properly brought him to madness, driving him into the Arb and leading to the removal of business from the offered majors at this college for being ‘just too hard.’ It seems that Arbold has finally grown tired of terrorizing the local deer population and has decided to expand His horizons to His would-be peers. This is of no concern. He is just a normal human. We’re working on solving this issue as I speak. For the next few weeks, just pretend that you attend most other colleges. If you see a business major while walking alone at night, RUN.

Hugs and kisses, Allie”

In unrelated news, I hear a knocking at my door.

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