Right now, as DePaul students trudge through Chicago’s annual March snowstorm (?) to their finals, Kelly Quinn is laying down a $120 sociology book behind her front tire, hoping it will earn her traction. She’s late to her sociology exam, and very salty about it. In a few short minutes, she will be on the roads, battling to navigate through the powerful force brought upon her by a fierce ruler. Her journey to and around campus will rival that of the great pioneers traveling westward.
Lack of exam cancellation and generally damp socks have students saltier than an Auntie Anne’s store at the bottom of the ocean. Most feel like their cold cries are not being heard, but they are. They’re being heard, and collected, and stored by Dr. Gabriel Esteban, who plans to use all of the saltiness to de-ice DePaul’s campus.
What end-point drives a president to upset the student body so regularly? The reason: Finance. Esteban is keeping the university at a minimally functional level that yields great saltiness, which he then collects and uses to de-ice the campus. The plan is to save the money that otherwise would be spent on snow-salt from a supplier, saving a reported grand total of $47.
Dr. Esteban refuses the business of local snow removal companies, opting instead to use the free saltiness oozing out of the Internet, social media, and students themselves — especially after refreshing DePaul’s Twitter only to find them straight. up. trolled:
Campus does look beautiful in the ❄️https://t.co/uGwtNqYb1z
— DePaul University (@DePaulU) March 13, 2017
This decision will leave many of those in the salt(ing?) industry with lower pay, like this dutiful salt miner,who now lives on only five salt cubes a day. Will Robert be there to tell his family that he is the reason for their sodium deficiency? We think not. Local companies offer their services, citing unmoved snow and un-kept walkways as a reason Esteban should take their business, so the university can get back to full function and open classes once again.
“Two things, you salt-selling rat bastards. First of all, I have not cancelled exams; do not insult me with accusations of kindness. DePaul students will be taking their exams today if it’s the last goddamn thing I do. Second of all, we don’t need your business. I have enough student saltiness to turn the Great Lakes into the Tiny Oceans. I must admit, I am overjoyed, I feel like I’m floating, which would make sense given the buoyancy effect salt has on those swimming in it.”
Eventually, Dr. Esteban, Commander in Chief, Secretary of Salt, will release all of the stored saltiness. Walkways will be cleared, and smooth parking will cease to be mere legend. Until then, student saltiness will continue to add gentle flavor to the favorite dishes of DePaul’s new daddy.
Drunk people say the darndest things: