The only to be published in a proposed series of humorous looks at the Class of 2011 and their current exploits. (From Libertas)
MAMMALS OF NORTH AMERICA #1
By Hayden Higgins
So I used to write Hayden’s Hypotheticals, until a couple days ago, when my brother texted me asking if I wanted to borrow the new Chuck Klosterman book. “The protagonist in the book went to Davidson,” he told me.
That stopped my blood cold. Klosterman was the originator of the Hypothetical. I’d merely mimicked him… stolen his idea, even. And now I was worried: had he stolen my life? What if the story of The Visible Man was just my future life? I had only one choice: never read the book, and vow to never again write a hypothetical.
Instead, you get this. Mammals of North America. The other day, President Quillen said that 96% of Davidson students get a job or go to grad school within a year. That’s an interesting statistic, considering that’s about to be me. I decided to check the statistics. Mammals of North America is what I found.
SUBJECT #1: WAYLEN ROCHE
With a little bit of research I confirmed that Waylen is, indeed, employed. Nonetheless, the past year has been a bit turbulent for him. His first gig was with a ranch out in Wyoming. Having seen a sketchy ad in the Crier, he thought he was fit for the job. A little bit of fresh air—the open land, stretching out before him—a place where he could see the stars. He left excited about his new position. He snapped this photo right before he left, optimistic, excited to show off his new ten-gallon hat and try out his Bowie knife.
When he returned, hardly anyone recognized him. Rumors spread—the advertisement had been a trap! He had been kidnapped by a rogue native group, joined their clan, been on vision quests. People did know he had rejected clothes and now spent his days in a peyote-induced daze with an androgynous doll he called “Ahuilizitli” and insisted was a god manifested on Earth.
This carried on for months. No one was able to shake him. It turned out that the only way out for Waylen was to go deeper and deeper, to reach closer and closer to nirvana through concentrated meditation sessions with the drug. And then he saw it: the Vision.
It carries him to this day. No one knows what visited him, but today you can find him on a streetcorner in San Francisco. A convert to Russian Orthodoxy, he changed his name to Sergey Radonezhsky to honor the 14th century holy man, and works tirelessly to teach passers-by of the many virtues of his religion. They say that if you call him by name, he won’t respond, and only goes on evangelizing; but if you tell him chick parm is on the menu at Commons, he cannot help but put his holy relics down and head to Vail.