SPECIAL Investigative Report
A Journey to the Center of the Cabot basement
For scores of years and time beyond remembering, Fletcher students have wondered
about the perplexing odors emanating from the stairway down to Cabot basement
near the mailroom. We have hypothesized a range of causes from skunks to dead
second years who never finished their theses, and even a particular ostracized
individual’s stinky locker. Students, classes, years, all come and go but the
stench remains!
The Fletcher Ledger sent their own special investigative journalistic reporter
to find the truth behind the wall. His story, into a land of mystery at the
CENTER OF THE CABOT BASEMENT unfolds:
Journal, Day 1:
I embark today with my trusty pair of friends as guides and company. They know
the dark better than I; yet, I suspect their stamina will be tested. We begin
with a small fissure in the wall below Locker 23. We hold our breath as we
enter, excited by the potential of discover, fearful of the knowledge that
waits.
Journal, Day 12:
I have seen little as I travel the depths of this rocky, dry land. The heat
grows as I dig deeper. Long ago my friend and DJ fell prey to party syndrome and
turned back. My second companion, a guide from Hayastan, has recently succumbed
to anxiety and has returned to the surface to tell my tale to all who wait for
me…
Journal, Day 24:
The scenery changes, yet the smell remains, it is dank at times then at times
slightly warming like the hot breath of my Russian grandfather who drinks too
much vodka. I believe I am seeing things and I have not eaten for days. The last
food I had came from a bit of Guru Indian curry that must have fallen off a
plate and through some crevice to these depths!
Journal, Day 31:
…I feel the urge to turn back, abandon my quest and, yet, I know that I am on
the cusp of discovery. I know now that a second year could never live down in
this region at the Center of the Cabot; I have yet to find a PJ Ryans or other
consistent source of PBR! And, at night I can feel eyes on me. The walls are
alive. I should not have come this way….
Journal, Day 32:
From the shadows, a great beast, a demon of the depths, a SEAAN of Murag! We did
epic battle from high to low; overpowering waves of energy shaking the ground
and spiking the air with pungent smells. And, I fell…
…I have awoken to find myself surrounded by small creatures…I am too weak to
stand and they lift me with their tiny, clawed hands…then I see light…I am free
of the specter, free of the smell!
The strange creatures of this land, odiferous yet beautiful, sang as I left:
“Smell your cares away,
Fletcher for another day,
Papers on delay,
Another study break!
Smell your cares away,
Graduating sometime maybe this May,
Smell your cares away,
Down at Cabot!”
I know now the source; I have fought in the depths. I have returned in glory
and, yet, the smell will not go away. It comes from the very essence of those
that saved my meager life. For those tiny creatures, they are kind of soul and
gentle in manners. They do not seek to harm us with that awful smell; rather, to
warn of the dangers of the LAND AT THE CENTER OF THE CABOT BASEMENT…
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