Oberlin silently froze over like ill sealed ice-cream. The grass crackled under feet, breaths condensing into puffy transparent plumes. Hordes of students crammed into every collegial orifice known: double all-nighters, argumentative study groups, clay demi-gods wired with strange combinations of speed, ridilin, and generic wellbutrin. Sitting in badly lit corners were the burnt critters. We would be those bastards in a week, tops.

The sponge cake atmosphere was flaky, able to dent concrete, highly acidic. Maybe it was more like a leaky car battery that way. A leaky sponge cake car battery that oozed out our ears like only leaky sponge cake car batteries can. The warrantees of our sanity were expiring.

I was totally oblivious to all of this. This is not a new thing. My lab partner had left me with not only a few of our files, but ones which happened to be wrong. I was desperate. The lab had to be edited, redone, re-adjusted. I was lucky to find one computer available in the 24/7 lab, but it had no statistical software.

I was screwed. I started to panic, scaring a few of the critters sitting across the way. I wasn't going to bite. Slaver a little, but I hadn't gotten truly desperate yet.

I thought then: yes, I'll get security to let me into the lab that has the software! I left all my things there, hoping to create a distraction. The guy next to me knew what was up and nodded. And there I ran: half-naked in 10 degree weather two blocks down to the security building. My nipples were oddly warm and quite content.

I thawed while explaining my predicament, hoping that my "I'm so pitiful and idiotic, please pat me on the head and feed me" face would save me. Score! They would let me in.

Rushing back frantically, feet warm, nipples erect, I launched into the 24/7 lab and heroically grabbed my things. The guy next to me nodded again. He still knew what was up. I entered into the maw of the beast, pushing open the doors carefully as the security guy unlocked them. I was home in my little computer lab appendix near the bowels of scientific inquiry.

- 4:30am -

Adrenaline, sweat, the faint back pain from sitting for too long. "Sixteen tons" kept playing through my head as I tried to make sense of what illogical monstrosity my lab partner had created. It was slow, tedious, vaguely painful. My bones seemed to liquify inside my skin, threatening to reduce me to indefinetely staying on the carpet as a lab mascot.

I was ass tired. I had dutifully slapped the electronic carcass around, figuring out what I thought was wrong with the whole thing. I needed no more of this crap. Sleep was imminent. Five hours was plenty.

- 11:00am -

The lab partner and I frantically tried to figure out who was right about what analysis. Well, she was calm. My heart wanted to burst out and perform that number the space alien does in "Spaceballs." Sure it had no vocal cords, but it might interpretively dance. I took her suggestions and remained calm. The prof. was explaining the lab and his answers in the other room. The under-the-wire time had been passed: I was skidding on the asphalt of luck and glory.

- 11:30am -

Narrowly finishing the lab, I ducked in and went through an in-class lab analysis.

- 1:30pm -

I talked about a section of rat brain for 10 minutes. I subsequently consumed part of a human brain, taking the visual centers and going for seconds on the sensory areas. The prof had made a jello mold brain, grinning wildly at the "refreshment" he offered.

I felt very weird. It was like some sort of cannabalistic ritual, rooted in the idea that consuming a brain would give you the magical powers that person had. It was like we were symbolically dominating and mastering what we studied, as if eating the jello brain was a rite of initiation.

Too many labs, not enough sleep, and now another night comes upon Oberlin, bathing us in the leaky sponge cake car battery mire of stress. The moon hangs low like a testicle in the sky.

But at least my nipples are still warm.

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