It’s official, folks: The zombie outbreak triggered by Dr. Vavis Darnado’s disastrous hunt for an anti-aging miracle drug won’t be stealing the spotlight today because something far more sinister is at play. Sure, the undead are shambling across the quad, mindlessly hunting for brains (as if there’s any intellectual life to be found here). But let’s shift our focus onto the REAL threat—the yellow menaces that’ve been wreaking havoc on our sinuses, sapping our motivation and testing the limits of our will to live. Yes, I’m talking about those little yellow devils who seem to multiply by the second, speak in chaotic gibberish and leave destruction in their wake…
Minions?
No. Pollen.
The latest environmental data—gathered through the highly scientific method of walking outside and immediately regretting it—reveals that pollen now outnumbers students on campus by a ratio of 10:1. And unlike students, who are generally discouraged from reproducing in public, pollen seems to thrive on spectacle. Coating every surface with a thin yellow layer of smug, plant-based fertility, these trees flash their pollen at us like the frat bros who, freshly buzzed, continue their mission to parade their shaved heads around—signaling a victory we never agreed to.
Physical Plant workers have officially confirmed campus-wide defeat. “We’ve stopped using leaf blowers,” one employee, with their voice trembling and eyes glazed over, said. “We’re just… gently fanning things now.”
Their attempts to clean surfaces have devolved into performance art. One janitor reportedly mopped the same yellowed square in Union for four consecutive hours, only to watch it re-pollinate mid-swipe. When asked for a comment, she blinked slowly and whispered, “It’s breathing.”
Meanwhile, the college administration is undeterred, especially with admitted students touring campus, and remain committed to “embracing diversity.” A rally has been scheduled to “honor the pollen’s differences,” complete with biodegradable confetti and a speech from President Doug Hicks ‘90 titled “Achoo: A Reflection.”
In a commendable display of half-hearted initiative, a campus-wide wellness email urged students to “seek shelter in community,” which appears to have manifested as seven undergrads piling into the Union vending machine. None have emerged. The SGA responded by reelecting their president unopposed—after all, he did bring Chick-fil-A to campus.
Is there hope? Probably not. But there is a new student organization called P.A.I.N.—Pollen Allergy Is Noteworthy—who meet weekly in the only pollen-free space on campus: the dusty, forgotten shelves in the library basement. They’ve started designing “I SURVIVED THE DAVIDSON SPRING” t-shirts, but don’t get too excited—ATC can only fund “I SURVIVED THE DAVIDSON SPRING FROLICS” shirts, according to their bylaws. So, unless you’re Union Board, the tees are strictly DIY.
And still, despite all these efforts, the pollen falls. Steady. Relentless. Unimpressed by your GPA or the fact that your allergies will have you looking like a swollen tomato in your formal pictures. This is not a season. It is a reckoning.
As of now, Davidson remains open. The campus stands. The Wildcat statue acquires a thin yellow mustache. And somewhere, deep in the Arboretum, a tree laughs.