Adriana Jergusova/The Mossy Log
It is the official first day of spring break. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and 75% of the student population is far, far away from campus. The hushed sounds of deliberation can be heard from one of Fowler’s conference room — room 238 to be exact.
“Put the cupcake down, John. It represents the ice cream, not your snack. Plus it’s at least a week old and the frosting looks like concrete,” Pam Morison ’27, an overly enthusiastic theatre major, snaps at their friend, an awkward tech wizard named John Salinski ’28.
A custodian walks by the glass wall of room 238, pausing to see what the spring break stragglers are up to. Spread across the table is what appears to be a detailed map of Fowler, dotted with a random assortment of objects: some condiment packets, a scrunchie and a cupcake. They quickly decide they do not get paid enough to deal with the eccentric behaviors of students on their spring break. Not caring to find out why one of the kids was openly glaring daggers right at them, they briskly walk away.
Calliope Ford ’28, an overworked art student, looks away from the fleeing custodian and sighs like a disappointed parent. None of her three friends seemed to have noticed the custodian that passed by while they were still bickering like children. Calliope decides it is not important enough to point out.
“Sorry Pam,” John says, looking almost like a beaten puppy.
“Come on Pam, cut him some slack. You said we were going to play Dungeons & Dragons. Instead, you’ve been yammering on about ice cream and the poor guy hasn’t had breakfast yet,” chimes in Freddy Fitzgerald ’29, a cheery yet clumsy psychology major. “Now, do you mind telling us why this ice cream is so special and why we have to steal it?”
“It’s not just any ice cream, it’s the best ice cream in the whole world, Double Chocolate Mint Chip Supreme! The Bon hasn’t served it in years, and now the freezer is stocked up!!” Pam wails.
“Then go and buy some from Fred Meyer like any normal person,” Calliope says.
“No! With how much I pay for tuition, this school owes me some damn ice cream. It’s so hard to find and it’s my favorite. It must be mine. Listen up people!” says Pam. They direct the team’s attention at the map on the table, holds up the cupcake ceremoniously and sets it down on the Bon’s kitchen.
“The cupcake is the prize, the ice cream of our dreams,” Pam says and turns to Freddy. “Freddy you’re the ketchup packet, Calliope is…” Pam fumbles around the table, realizing there are not enough pieces on the board to represent all of them.
Sighing, Calliope throws a pen on the table. “Right! A pen! That’s Calliope,” Pam stammers with relief. “So that makes John the mustard and me the scrunchie.”
“But I wanted to be the ketchup,” whimpers John pathetically. He is just like that.
“Fine, John’s the ketchup and Freddy’s the mustard,” Pam allows. “So here’s the plan: Freddy tries to persuade a janitor to give us their key, making a big scene out of it. With the cover of the distraction, Calliope will pass by and pickpocket them. By the way, can I ask why you know how—”
“No,” Calliope interjects firmly.
“Okay then… Once we have the keys, I’ll get the janitor’s attention with my award winning performance of ‘The Broken Ankle.’ John sneaks into the kitchen and breaks into the vault,” Pam continues.
Calliope silently moves the pieces across the map without a comment based on Pam’s brief explanation.
“Wait, there’s a vault? I’m a comp sci major, not a locksmith!” says John, the poor thing.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out buddy, you’re smart,” says Freddy, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Also, which condiment am I again?”
“Damn it, Freddy, you’re mustard!” Pam snaps.
“Hey, I’m just checking,” says Freddy. He holds up his hands in surrender.
“This is stupid, is this seriously what you woke me up for?” Calliope says after staying silent through the whole conversation.
“Come on, it’ll be fun and you’ll get ice cream. Pleeeeease?” pleads Pam.
“… Ugh. Fine. Explain this plan again from the beginning,” huffs Calliope.
“You have got to be kidding me! I expected you, of all people, to have listened to the plan the first time,” Pam says.
“Now explain the plan again or I’m leaving. Your plan has too many holes not to reiterate,” Calliope states.
And so they went over the plan a few more times, tweaking and changing it until it was perfect as four tired college students can get a plan to be. They drilled the details, timing and locations until each one of them had it all painfully memorized.
The day of the heist came, and miraculously, the plan went off without a hitch.
At exactly 12:25 p.m., Freddy casually moseyed into the Trail Room and struck up a conversation with the janitor. He only tripped over his words once, while talking about the influence of reciprocity on people, which to his credit is a bit of a mouthful. Calliope passed by them and pretended to trip over Freddy’s shoe. The janitor, gentleman that he was, caught her arm, and as he helped her up, she snatched the keys from his belt loop without a sound.
She thanked him and excused herself, turning the corner and walking out of earshot before tossing the keys to John. John tiptoed up the stairs, meeting Pam’s eye just as they stepped out of the hall of bathrooms and into the hallway just outside of their target.
A Campus Safety officer had just started his rounds in front of the Bon, right on schedule. Pam started to walk up to the officer and suddenly collapsed to the ground, gripping their ankle and letting out a blood-curdling shriek. The officer rushed over to help them, allowing John to slip past unnoticed. He silently unlocked the door to the kitchen, careful not to let the door slam.
John took a moment to picture the blueprint of the kitchen, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone walked in and the jig was up. He deftly maneuvered the expansive kitchen to the walk-in freezer and took a deep breath. He pulled open the massive metal door, which opened with a hiss and showered him in golden light.
A minute later, John stumbled out of the door to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
“Hey Pam…” he said. “It’s empty.”
Pam quickly dropped the act and shook off the officer who was still trying to help her stand.
“FUCK!”
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