While on their first college tour as Americans, a newly immigrated family of Swedes fell victim to QU After Dark’s most recent and most blatantly desperate attempt to steer youths into sobriety: a puppy giveaway that turned into a mass-annihilation of unsuspecting bystanders.
Eyewitnesses to the doggone disastrous puppy giveaway revealed the harrowing truth of two girls’ fates. The dainty, impressionable, Swedish twins were reportedly the first to slip beneath the heels of the puppy-thirsty Alpha Chi Omegas and the last to be scraped off the floor of the Carl Hansen Student Center. The high school-aged pair was one of many victims who found themselves trampled into a pulp as lonely future pet owners stampeded through the cafeteria and onto the quad.
“I thought the students could benefit from a little snuggle session,” blubbered recently-shamed QU wellness director Patricia S. Burke. “I had no idea just how much they needed this.”
Jason Bolyn, an eyewitness to the bloody tragedy, vowed to spend the rest of his days puppy-free.
QU 101 professor Dr. Rose Quiello has set up a hotline for the similarly affected masses of students who are suffering from traumatic flashbacks, most often triggered by the sounds of dogs barking, metal cages being torn apart by bare hands, and the squeals of young adults as they sprint over fallen bodies.
Unfortunately, “Quinnipiac University” is synonymous with “the sounds of trampling over blood-soaked students,” and therefore, the amount of occupants at the health center has exceeded the fire code-recommended number. Dr. Quiello has therefore agreed to extend her services by opening her home to the deranged PTSD-ridden victims of what is now being called “The Bloodiest Day in American History.”
However, not all QU community members are responding with empathy and concern.
“I grew up in a culture where Puppyfest meant Puppyfest,” argued local puppy enthusiast Lane Amizdah. “These sissies were ill-prepared for the response they received, and therefore will suffer the consequences.”