SATIRE

By Marta Vallejo, Staff Writer  

It was the middle of the night. I was walking back from the HUB when I took a wrong turn somewhere along the way. I found myself alone in the darkness near the construction site of the unfinished College of Osteopathic Medicine building, when I spotted something in the distance. They were big, odd, metal-ish.  

Ten Cybertrucks stood in a circle.  

And next to them was the entire Xavier men’s basketball team.  

Panicked, I quickly hid behind a nearby bush. I couldn’t afford to let them see me. Who knows what would happen to me! So many questions flew through my head. Why was the entire basketball team out during the middle of the night? Why did the whole thing seem like I stumbled into an actual cult gathering?! And most importantly, why did ALL of them have cybertrucks?!  

My journalistic tendencies kicked in and I knew I had to investigate. I started to get closer, making sure I was being as stealthy as possible. Slowly but surely, I made it close enough to hear their conversation.  

Except they weren’t talking to each other. In fact, they were just standing there, doing nothing.  

I waited around for several minutes, peeking out every now and then. Still nothing. It almost seemed like they were waiting for something. Or rather, someone.  

The sky was completely clear, but I could’ve sworn I heard thunder. I turned to look and all of the basketball players were now kneeling. More like bowing down it seemed. That’s when I saw her.  

President Colleen Hanycz.  

I had never seen the president of the university so close. I started getting nervous, fearing for my safety (and, more importantly, my scholarship). Dr. Hanycz started inspecting all the basketball players, eyeing each one before jotting something down in a notepad. Her attention shifted to the cybertrucks themselves.  

“How are they?” she asked.  

“They’re fine and in perfect condition, President,” one of the players replied. I couldn’t see which one, as he was too tall.  

“Good, the next shipment will be coming soon in order to accommodate the remainder of your team,” she said.  

Shipment? What shipment? Were the basketball players actually being given Cybertrucks? What for? Didn’t they have enough money as it was?  

And even more concerning: WHY CYBERTRUCKS??  

Even my mom said they look like dumpsters. I had to admit, I agreed with her. In fact, I would argue that calling them dumpsters is an insult to dumpsters everywhere.  

“Mrs. President,” another one of the basketball players said, “you told us we were free to do whatever we wanted with these Cybertrucks as long as we reached the finals of the Big East tournament. Is that still part of our deal?”  

“Why yes, that’s still part of the deal. Did you have any concerns?” Dr. Hanycz asked.  

“It’s just that I’ve been riding mine all over the city, and well — I might have spilled some alcohol on the backseats while I was at the casino. I need the car cleaned so I can pick up my girlfriend and her friends for next week’s party,” the player explained.  

“That can be arranged. But it’ll be deducted from your paycheck,” she said.  

“Understood,” he responded quietly.  

*Brrring! Brrring!*  

My phone started ringing. It was my parents wondering why I was still out so late. Of all the possible moments, this had to be the worst.  

My heart dropped as I peeked out from behind the bush. I had no idea whether they had seen me or not.  

The basketball players stood up and started walking toward me. Meanwhile, Dr. Hanycz was already making a speedy exit, as if she’d just been caught in the middle of an illegal activity.  

I had to get out. Fast.  

I ran as fast as I could, not looking behind me once. I made it back to my room safely, where my roommate was already sound asleep. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.  

The events of that night still play in my head. I couldn’t bear to tell anyone out of fear for my own safety.  

What I had actually witnessed that night remains unknown.