To all my fellow Ephs, I have a confession to make. It has been fourteen weeks since students first arrived on campus for the fall semester, and 13 weeks and five days since I began experiencing burning/painful urination, testicular swelling, and penile discharge. I have chlamydia, and now that we’ve all gone home for the semester, I thought I should do my duty as a responsible member of the community and let you all know that some of you probably/definitely have it. I’m a good person.
I read somewhere that over the course of the semester 44,139 tests were conducted, which I can only assume were for clididiya. From looking at the handy dandy dashboard, along with myself and my penis, 10 others tested positive for klamiddia. Someone told me that all podmates, friends, and lovers of those who tested positive were moved into q-tine (quarantine) housing, which I can only assume means that they were put down. For this, I am deeply sorry. I can’t help but feel a little bit responsible for at least some of these cases, because I did have sex with every single person who tested positive within a few days of their positive test. My mom’s friend knows someone who used to be a contact tracer, and he says me having sex with them makes me possibly the one who gave them CLOMID (just for context, since I am a good person, I did also have sex with my mom’s friend and, submarinesequently, give her the old c-diggity).
Once I found out that people were going into isolation because of me, I tried to curb my passions. The College did not experience any cases for another three weeks until Nov. 18, when three new cases cropped up. For that I am sorry. I was feeling frisky that weekend. As we say in the business, the elder chicken never misses a chance to roost.
In response to the clemedaya outbreak I may or may not have started, the College instituted several regulations to keep campus safe. For example, they put six feet spacers in the dining halls to prevent any girl standing in line near me from smelling my musk and becoming undeniably attracted to me. They also made everyone wear masks, probably because they didn’t want everyone seeing my strong jawline, but they didn’t want to single me out. The College’s efforts to reduce my spread through the use of so-called online classes also proved ineffective. I am terribly sorry about the fact that so many Zoom baddies routinely asked for my snapchat. Had I turned off my camera for every meeting, some of these numbers may be less severe. However, restrictions proved to be no match for my allure as even some of those WEPO kids fell prey to my charms, looks, and chlydia.
Across the ocean at the Williams Exeter Programme at O-Ford (Oxford), 22 of 22 students tested positive. We cannot reveal which of the 22 students this were. But 22 of the 22 tested positive. Everyone at Oxford has chlamydia. But they won't admit it because they’re not as good people as I am. I am a good person, not because of my kolmudia.
I am especially sorry to the students who had to remain on campus during Thanksgiving. My sexual gravitas had no business besmirching your family’s turkey day.
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