What’s a little Pepsi spray gonna do?

By Mark Pickup

It was like any other day at the university. The students were herded into class. The professors were underpaid. The library was under-funded. The labs continued to crumble and the Parking Gestapo continued to toot around in brand new, high-priced vehicles. The normality was almost stifling. Except on this day there was a stir in the air. A club was upset, although, we don’t quite know about what-something about freedom, something about money, something about a room. It has been suggested that they were concerned with rumors of a student government expansion. So far these seem only to be rumors. Whatever it was, though, it started the whole thing.

It started so peacefully. The club held a march. The students came, in the name of freedom, but it wasn’t to remain so innocent. The blue shirts advanced, shaking and opening their cans. It was to be Pepsi spray for the poor, unfortunate protesters. The response was outrage. How could they do it, the club wanted to know. rumors flew that the order had come straight from the office of the Student Government President. It was a sticky situation. A meeting had to be called.

But the meeting was declared biased. The Student Government would not provide funds for the club’s legal council. This was seen as rather unfair, with the government claiming a surplus and the club being an under-funded interest group. The club decided that they wanted the issue dealt with at a higher level. The Student Government pointed out to the club leaders that they were their elected representatives. The leaders responded that this was an issue of individual freedoms. This was not an issue for elected officials but an issue for the courts. A special meeting was called.

Then came the reports that the speaker had been overheard, talking of matters of a most sensitive nature. Allegations flew and calls were made for his resignation. Apparently, it was claimed, the speaker had implicated the Student Government in a grand club cover-up. The speaker had been warned, the bureaucracy pointed out, not to speak of such matters in public. He had not listened. An extra special meeting had to be called.

The end of the day came. The dust settled and the sky cleared. No one could believe the government had made such a public relations blunder but neither did they really care. All was quiet in Whoville. Nothing about the day mattered. Except, tuition continued to rise.

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