HAMILTON, NY — Prospies are an oddity here on our desolate hill. On one hand, they’re simultaneously the most adorable and innocent human beings to step foot in the Coop; on the other, they have the potential to be the most disgusting and vile creatures to ever be birthed from their mom’s unholy seven-figure-salary vagina. The following accounts are (based in) fact, the witnesses are (sort of ) real, and the emotional scars are (potentially) permanent; read at your own risk.

Flashback to January – a week after break – when freshman Nothisisntreal Stopfuckingasking decided to join the program “to give back to the community.” Little did he know that he would receive an Econ Major in the making – and not like a nice Econ Major who can help you with math, but like, you know, the other Econ Majors – Bradlington von Rich VIII, Esquire, a permanently-flexing trust-fund baby whose family alone contributed to 23 percent of the Swiss economy. The self-proclaimed “down-to-earth dude who’s just lookin’ to party” apparently swiped five brewchachos at an Andrews pregame from the designated beer fridge in a matter of forty seconds, stole everyones’ Juuls from their pockets, and fashioned them into Wolverine claws, making some lame-ass joke in the process that no one laughed at. According to a partygoer, “He kept changing the music to Panic! at the Disco EDM remixes and complained when someone wouldn’t share their drinks with him. He also brought a roll of condoms and said he would stay on campus until they were all used; the dude was fucking disgusting, but I heard he already has some bids, because what a fuckin’ animal, am I right?”

And stay he did. On the floor of a random freshman’s dingle. For an extra two days. Condoms unused. Some say he still roams the campus as an apparition, asking passers-by for a fat rip of their Juul or a sip of their alc before throwing the beverage on the ground in rebellion, “because it tastes icky.” He occasionally appears in freshman dorms, asking if anyone wants to play Fortnite and drink spiked seltzer. One even reported seeing him in the Jug bathroom paying $50 for a bag of oregano, which he then inhaled like a fucking vacuum before placeboing himself into a state of pure couchlock on the bench outside the Bookstore. He reportedly stayed there for seven hours before a cruiser-driver bridal-carried him to the handicap seat and dropped him off in front of Frank.

Further research has students convinced that Bradlington von Rich VIII, Esquire simply didn’t exist – that the entire student body simply hallucinated his very being and thus created the image of the stereotypical frat-douche in the making. Upon further inspection, the host of the pregame that Bradlington was first spotted at reported five unopened beers in the corner of the room as well as six Juuls; and while forensics revealed many different fingerprints and assorted STDs, none of the evidence could be traced to an individual outside the Colgate student body.

The mystery of Bradlington von Rich VIII, Esquire continues to this day. Perhaps he’s the hero we need but don’t deserve – a beacon to show us all of our wrongdoings as a student body that relies on instant gratification and shamelessly embarasses itself in public in the name of the full send. Or maybe we’re just fuckin’ tripping from sheer exhaustion; who knows at this point.