A Letter to the Wasps on the Third Floor
By Riley Rinehard
Dear wasps on the third floor,
Please leave. We don’t mean to be rude, but you are making everyone uncomfortable. The first day of classes, my professor killed two of you with a textbook. Two. That’s not okay…. although, I will say that’s the best use for a textbook I’ve seen in a while.
I had people tell me, “You’re in Main 327? That’s the one known for the wasps.” I didn’t believe them. I was naive then. There was so much I didn’t know. I haven’t been able to pay attention in class because you’re just flying around having a grand old time. One of my classes had to move classrooms because of you. Actually, we moved to a much better classroom — so we’ll give you credit for that…. but nonetheless, you’re a nuisance.
Apparently you’ve also invaded some professors’ offices. They’ve mastered the ways of wasp murdering. Do you just live in the ceilings? What is this? And why do you keep coming back? Do you have a death wish?
Also, I thought you all hibernated during the winter months. So when I first saw you flying around Main Hall classrooms in January, my first thought was, “Oh no! They’ve mutated!” Turns out, only your queen hibernates. When I tell you this, wasps, know I mean it from the bottom of my heart — you should join your queen and just disappear for a while.
My friends and I have started calling you Cotton Eye Joe because where did you come from and where did you go? You just appear. You’re just there and then you’re just not. How do you do that!?
So, please, all of us students and professors are asking you with a cherry on top, just go away.
Sincerely,
SVU Students and Staff
