This past Thursday, the south green was awash with bloodthirsty students from a clash of two the two most extra subcultures here at UD. When freshman Will Simpson decided to set up his new hammock between two perfect trees in front of Morris Library, he had no idea his actions would lead to the first campus battle since the fall of Nancy Target in 2016.
“I had just settled into my nylon cocoon when I felt something grip the fabric and flip me face-first into that delicious UD mulch,” he said. However, he wasn’t initially aware of the presence of any other students. He explained, “at first I thought maybe I was just doing it wrong. Those hammock kids sure are cool, I just figured I wasn’t cut out for the lifestyle.”
To Simpson’s surprise, the culprit was Drew Reynolds: a slick man-bun with a double major in Exercise Science and Economics. Reynolds claims to spend every warm-weather day he can, walking on his slack line between the very trees Simpson had already claimed.
“Slacklining is how I center myself, man; how else am I supposed to relax after an intense rock wall sesh in the Little Bob? I didn’t think I was gonna start a war, but it’s kind of sick. Dude, it’s like my legacy!” Commented Reynolds.
Before Simpson could dust himself off, herds of people had already seen where this altercation was heading, and were eager to join in. Junior Katie McFaran was especially upset.
“Hammockers are seriously misunderstood here. When I was a freshman I fell asleep in mine for like, eleven hours,” she said. “Someone even called the police to report a corpse hanging from some trees on campus. There was UD alert and everything, it was pretty embarrassing.”
McFaran was just one of the students that contributed to the array of four-hammock-high barricades that lined the trees in front of Morris as the battle unfolded. There is still no word on how the fuck they manage to pull that off, but it gave the hammockers a significant advantage in evading their opponents, sources report.
Slackliners reportedly came out of nowhere in record numbers, armed with hundreds of hacky sacks filled with rocks. Using their lines as catapults, students sent the hefty bundles hurtling towards the swaddled hammockers. “A few students even tried to trap their rival’s necks in their slack lines with hopes of popping off a few heads like loose teeth!” Said Professor Smith, a witness to the battle.
Reynolds claimed he noticed the apathy of the hammockers after slinging a few rocks in their direction. “I’d hit one, and a puff of smoke would slip through the gap,” he stated, “I don’t think anyone really knew what was happening.”
Fortunately, Reynolds’ take was accurate, and no students sustained any injuries in the battle. Hammockers retreated into their fabric wombs, cowering and waiting for the pelting to end.
“Those were rocks they were throwing rocks at us? That’s kind of psycho, but I didn’t really notice. I was busy knitting these scarves for the trees on campus,” said McFaran, displaying her wide array of severely oversized neckwear.
Perhaps the most mystifying aspect of the battle came promptly at 4:20pm, when students immediately dropped their weapons and evacuated the hammocks without another word. There is no clear explanation for the bizarre ceasefire, and every student involved later seemed to have forgotten the event entirely. Simpson, Reynolds, and McFaran alike were all quoted in a follow-up interview that evening saying, “wait… what?”