Ladies and gentlemen, as a renowned reporter of this great new century, it is my regret to inform the good citizens of the University of Colorado that as we continue our pleasant existences of studying, partying, exams, vomiting, and ill-fated lunch dates, our contentment is only a result of blind ignorance of the true nature of the state of our world– a new, more prevalent evil has reared it’s beastly head in this once fair university, and is threatening our lives and educations as we speak:

Ladies, gentlemen;– it is my grave and solemn duty to report that it is no other than the threat of organized crime that looms over us and everything we hold dear: gangsters, grifters, and goons walk unknown and unchallenged through the broad, potholed streets and sidewalks of this very university, and they aren’t committing harmless misdemeanors my friends; they aren’t stealing our hopes of beginning our adult lives free from crushing student debt, no; ladies and gentlemen, be warned; as this is no mild crime wingding, but a severe, brutal, underground war of terror and destruction.

Gentlemen, the ladies in the audience may now wish to leave, as we continue our story in the backlit alleys and scum-filled streets of this fallen university, and it is not a tale suitable for the faint of heart:

It was Monday, September twelfth, when police first caught wind of the situation; there were reports, rumours at best, of a suspicious-looking dame, prowling the Centre For Community with two plastic tupperwares in the main compartment of her guacamole Fjällräven Kånken knapsack. Alleged sightings of this reprehensible behaviour continued to be related to law enforcement sporadically throughout the next few weeks, but without proper intel or evidence, it was hopeless to stop this woman or ascertain what nefarious deeds she was committing. The majority of witnesses believed they had seen the broad slinking about the C4C sandwich station, but not much more was known. It wasn’t until the twenty-first of September that an anonymous caller dropped the dime to C4C security personnel that this particular dame wasn’t only lurking about the sandwich station; but was in fact preparing sandwiches and storing them in the two plastic tupperwares she had been seen with. The call was cut short halfway, and the bloodied body of the suspected caller was found propped up against the side of a dingy telephone booth on Pleasant street with the phone line cut, and the mouthpiece missing.

My friends, the fact weighs heavy on my heart as it does on all honest folk, but it is my duty as a reporter to make known to the good people of this university of the dark threats we now face. Gentlemen, it is no other than the unspeakable crime of sandwich trafficking that menaces us– from the darkened shadows of Kittridge tunnel to the basement of the ATLAS institute; such trade has become an extremely lucrative and compelling business amongst the kingpins of Colorado University.

Be warned, Gentlemen, it has invaded every aspect of our society; and it is believed by experts in such areas of criminology that our thriving criminal underworld was built on the back of such abhorrent trade: seemingly innocent men have been clipped late in the night by the Black-Eyed button man when a turkey sandwich was misplaced, others in storms of Chicago lighting during the carnage of the infamous Roast Beef Wars, and hundreds disappeared amid the sliced tomato shortages of 2021.

My friends, sandwich trafficking is a very real and present threat, but thankfully our valiant C4C security personnel are fighting to put an end to this great evil in our university:

Of course, gentlemen, amid the growing turmoil in our streets, and the discovery of a maimed stool pigeon in a telephone booth, any right-minded man of the law would turn in his badge then and there out of the healthy fear of being bumped off late in the night– but not our Centre for Community security personal. As you gentlemen no doubt already know, it is only our proud, black, and gold coats that stand between us common folk and total annihilation at the hands of these good-for-nothing gangsters and grifters. It is they who man the wheeled, plywood desk in the foyer of the once adequately named Center for Community: and that desk, as you gentlemen certainly know, has become a symbol of hope for better times in the face of this growing scourge– it has become the very line the separates us from the terror and uncertainty in these dark times.

Gentlemen, despite our increasingly bleak situation I am proud to report here and now that it was our C4C security personnel who confirmed, on October tenth, at precisely 12:04 pm, an irrefutable sighting of the notorious broad– who is now colloquially known as the sand-witch, and nailed her dead to rights with an egg salad sandwich in what was later confirmed to be an Oxo pop tupperware.

Now, gentlemen, I believe we can agree that any honest man might have flung this amoral dame in the cooler and lost the key, but our C4C security personnel; men more virtuous than many of us could ever hope to be, gave the poor creature a plate instead and insisted that she stay in the Centre for Community until she finished her ill-gotten spoils. The dame agreed to this generous proposition with a small, embarrassed smile and softly swore that she would never again participate in such unlawful activity. But ah, my friends– the criminal, sandwich-trafficking underbelly of the University of Colorado holds strong and fast over the hearts and minds of many, and unsurprisingly, though very much disappointingly, it wasn’t three minutes until the dame was caught attempting to slink out of the C4C.

Now, as we all know it is quite impossible for a lady, however immoral, to consume an entire sandwich in under three minutes, because ladies, even wicked ones, have a more refined sense of class than most men, and it is due to this well-known fact that our Centre for Community security personnel refused to let the dame leave the foyer without first investigating the contents of her knapsack.

The broad, no longer feigning innocence of heart, argued vehemently against what she claimed to be an infraction upon her right to privacy, but the static of the déclassé is, as you gentlemen know, only canned music to the ears of justice– sacrifices must be made, knapsacks must be searched without their owner’s approval– all in the name of quashing the irrefutable evil of sandwich-trafficking in this university. However, it was surely a surprise to I, as well as our C4C security personnel when the dame’s knapsack was found to be empty with neither a sandwich nor a tupperware to be found in its guacamole depths. “And how?” you are no doubt exclaiming at this very moment, but the solemn truth is, we don’t know. Our valiant black-and-gold-coats had no choice but to let the witch go, and due to the justice-shackling restrictions of the law, we may never catch her again.

Pessimism, my friends, is our only option in the face of this evil; it is the only point of view that ensures our safety, we must look down upon everything with eagle-eyed scrutiny, and pull back every black curtain so that we may see nothing but truth with all its filth and scum. This world is an evil place, and our black-and-gold-coats are even currently entertaining the plausibility in the existence of sandwich mules; runners employed by the unnamed kings of Boulder’s organised crime circles not only to smuggle goods out of the C4C foyer undetected, but across counties, state lines, oceans, and distant lands– awakening the revelation of a much larger criminal enterprise then we had previously dared to consider; one that may very well place the University of Colorado at the hub of a thriving international sandwich-trafficking industry that has seized power and influence across the globe with it’s smothering, tentacle-like grip.

Even so, in the unclouded glow emitted from the grim flashlight of pessimism, I am inclined to advise the good men of Colorado University and the world that we must now consider everyone suspect if we are to survive these dark and trying times. My friends, it makes me sick to my very core, but even our gilded Centre for Community personnel cannot be immune to our scrutiny and mistrust, as it was they who let the sand-witch slip right through their fingers, as well as our hopes for a safer world.

Gentleman, this tale has an unhappy ending to say the very least, as it is a tale where the villain escapes into the darkened streets unscathed without so much as a shadow for the good light to follow– the world has failed us, and there are no true solutions.

So, gentlemen, I suggest that we all head home; for nothing can stop the evil of sandwich trafficking, as nothing can stop the CU marching band from playing Born This Way on loop for two hours every day. And while we cannot accept its existence in our lives, the only thing we can do is complain– so like any enlightened pessimist, we must do so in excessive and sober rants to anyone who has the good fortune to hear our wisdom– that is our solemn duty.

So go home gentlemen; kiss the innocent heads of your wives and your children, for sandwiches are flooding the streets, the marching band continues to play, and the very world has failed you.