Warning: Satire! (inspired by Kafka’s Metamorphosis and Sade’s Philosophy in the Boudoir) May be a bit too Deerfield-specific, but enjoy either way!
Pavin recalled his night before the metamorphosis: “It was a quaint night in Doubleday- three and a half hours of studying, a feed with the boys and I finished my homework for the next two days.”
“The scream was like someone went overkill on smelling salts again,” a Barton dweller noted. “So, I kicked the basement door open and I saw him shell-shocked and aimlessly looking for something.”
“One moment I was drifting into sleep and then I woke up when I got hit by a truck,” Pavin explained. “That wasn’t when I screamed though, that happened when I couldn’t find my iPad, saw the barren walls, and the smell of cabbage and urine hit me.” Pavin had a feeling he was not in Doubleday anymore. “Given the pile of hockey gear I woke up in, it may have been the basement of Barton.”
At 8:27 A.M., the Barton dweller burst into Pavin’s room, dragged him off the load of laundry and handed him a backpack. The duo went to the Koch Kafe despite Pavin’s first period English class. After Pavin’s hallmate stole his OneCard, Pavin started to piece it all together.
“Seniors I had never seen before dapped me up,” Pavin stated. “They kept going on about a lacrosse cure, magic ball, creatine, and boy kibble. There was something occult about it all. So I ran to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and a foreign creature stared back at me.”
Pavin had two options at this moment: reverse this spell and go back to freshman life or live in this random senior’s body. Pavin justified choosing the latter option, “I wanted to taste the freedom of 16 APs and no consequences for my actions.”
Instead of first period, Pavin chatted up some senior girls and made a quick trip to the Hess basement, and he realized that “maybe not studying was great after all.”
Unexpectedly, Pavin went to second period. He strolled in fifteen minutes late and fell asleep for the rest of the period. The bell jolted him awake and then a buddy invited him to skip lunch and order UberEats. Pavin couldn’t refuse the offer and happily left his table without a first waiter. Pavin explained why he skipped sit-down lunch, a core tradition: “seniors don’t need to wait because we’re already worthy of our heritage, first-waiting is for freshmen.” Pavin, with the power of sixteen expendable APs, left all the dirty dishes to his fellow Doubleday hallmates.
Pavin and boys skipped third period and co-curric to binge the new season of Daredevil. Pavin claimed binging Daredevil “is more productive than scrolling”, “quality time with the bros” and “who gives a frick, it’s senior spring”. He drifted off to sleep at 3 AM playing League on the pile of dirty laundry.
He woke up back in Doubleday to his roommate shaking him.
Pavin concluded, “Even though I only experienced senior spring for a day, I learned an important lesson. Since there are no restraints in senior spring, you should take advantage of the total freedom, no matter the consequences. The only time I’ve felt true bliss was through the freedom of senior spring and the libertinage it allows. For now, I only have 11 APs to spend, but I can’t wait… to finally be able to experience complete freedom, no restraints, libertinage, and to cruise by for a term with no personal development.”
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