Psychology Building melts into amorphous blob


Photo courtesy of CWU Flickr

Katherine Camarata, Satirist

The psychology building’s structure provides more ambiguity than an inkblot Rorschach test, featuring lines, levels and angles seemingly on a path to nowhere. 

The perplexing hub of insight is verifiably haunted, haunted by the fixation of psychology students trying to study their way out of their own disarray and the ghosts of repression past. 

Rumors have been circulating about the need to replace the Psychology building, which was first constructed in 1973. A failed transformer had to be replaced last fall, but more than merely the transformer got a new look.

The entire building was remolded into a giant block of clay and scrambled like the brains of people who get one too many MRIs to help research students get decent grades. 

CWU students noticed this shift on their way to class.

“I was on my way to Psychology of Language and I started feeling something dripping on my shoulder,” senior in the graduate program Testa Money said. “It was the actual building, the concrete was melting and forming into a puddle of goop. I thought I accidentally left my VR helmet on too long after the last experiment I was bribed with extra credit to participate in but when I went home later, I couldn’t get the building out of my hair.”

As the corners of the building slowly oozed and found their way to the edges of the foundation like a flower blooming, students and professors escaped the dwindling remains puddling around the corner of Walnut St. and East Dean Nicholson Bvd., rushing toward Brooks Library, arms flailing. 

Many spectators thought the phenomenon to be a secret art installation on the loose from Randall Hall.

“How did this get out here?” Shifty Art Professor Shirley Whirly shrieked as passersby panicked. “This was never supposed to see the light of day.”

Other bystanders hypothesized that it may have been caused by something more sinister.

“Global warming is melting us all, like one big pot of cheese fondue, only the cheese is human life as we know it and the bread is the earth’s crust,” Random Mad Scientist living behind Brooks Library said. 

The building began to seep toward the fences surrounding the construction underway in Nicholson Pavilion. A seventeen vehicle traffic jam resulted from the blocked road as firefighters on the scene were unsure whether the road was obstructed by a solid or a liquid, consequently leading to the loss of their jobs.

“I didn’t need this job anyways,” former firefighter Moist Hose said indignantly. “This school can be left to deal with the consequences of buildings that looked like they were housing hitmen.”