Eugene, OR — In what appears to be an unfortunate cosmic tragedy, a pair of student a cappella performing groups have apparently been doomed to sing for eternity on muted televisions in the Erb Memorial Union (EMU).
Freshman Abby Nusspunt, a marine biology major, first noticed their plight around Thanksgiving.
“I was, like, wow, that guy in the yellow shirt is, like, really cute, and I wish I could, like, hear him, right?” she said, turning declarative sentences into questions by escalating her pitch to finish each thought. “But then, like, I kept seeing the same two groups, like, over and over? And I was, like, that’s messed up!?”
“Don’t let their incessant glee fool you; those guys and that one girl are begging for help,” said fifth-year senior Nick Dangol, a satchel-toting philosophy major. “They think that if they just sing loud enough, and show just a little more charisma, we might hear them and liberate them from their crisply-edited flat screen prison. And that’s what makes the whole thing so goddamn depressing.”
As to how or why they were sentenced to an endless loop of desperate yet silent soulful singing, the mystery remains. The prognosis from one local medium is not good.
“It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again,” said Sparkle, a shabby woman who frequents the Pioneer Cemetery after dark. “You know those ESPN college football ads with that Fall Out Boy song?” she asked, between vape hits. “Out in the ether, rumor has it that as soon as the championship is played, the band will be sequestered to repeat on a Doritos-stained laptop in the basement of a B-list fraternity until the inevitable heat death of the universe.”
A fitting punishment for those irrepressible bastards, sure. But the question remains: What did the innocent campus crooners do to deserve a similar fate themselves?
Sparkle could only offer a coughing shrug. “I dunno. I don’t make the rules. Got any booze?”
At this moment, one of the unlucky, smiling, brightly dressed, perfectly multicultural spectra of finely choreographed jubilation is probably belting out its heartfelt rendition of an iconic Motown hit to oblivious, ungrateful, sleep-deprived students doing geometry homework in the Fishbowl.