(HUMOR) The King’s College has a remarkably diverse campus. The student body consists of 33% minorities and 50% privately educated and homeschooled students, which would be impressive ratios if we were a school based in suburban Ohio. (Prominent minority groups include students with African heritage, Hispanics and males.)

The school’s prestigious and diverse student body hides a darker side, however– in the shadows, freeloading vermin scurry about, oblivious to the wealth of knowledge surrounding them and concerned only with finding their next meal. And no, we’re not referring to the Politics, Philosophy and Economics (PPE) majors– we’re talking about the mice.

Small, brown, skittish and other adjectives that describe mice, these creatures stalked the halls and classrooms of our prestigious institution during the construction work period on the main campus building. They seemed to permeate the very fabric of reality, or at the very least the lobby and sixth floor of the building. The mice plagued students and faculty alike, and sightings were numerous.

“One ran across classroom 626 during my Modern Philosophy class,” recounted Graeme Straughn, a senior majoring in PPE. “A bunch of the girls screamed.”

“I’d see the little mousy messes they left on my desk when I left food on it,” recounted Dr. Joshua Hershey, Assistant Professor of Science and Philosophy. (As the only science professor on campus, the Tribune was forced to blindly accept his assessment of the alleged messes as “mousy.”)

Even prospective students experienced these terrors. “While I was working as a tour guide in Admissions my first semester at King’s in Fall 2021, I was leading a prospective student and their family to room 626 to show them what a King's classroom looks like,” Melinda Huspen, a junior pursuing a real career with a major in Journalism, Culture and Society recalled. “As I walked past the Fishbowl and towards the door, I saw a mouse run across the floor near the back of the empty classroom. Not sure if the family I was with saw him or not, but if they did notice his presence they didn't say anything.”

It is currently unknown whether or not incidents such as this affected prospective students’ final decisions, as the school has been unable to retain enough students to conduct surveys with.

Despite their reigns of terror, there may have also been a softer side to these mice. The tiny furry scourge of the sixth floor was a small mouse with a brown coat who made his home in the library.

One of the mouse traps in the library | Photo by Joshua Story

“His name was Timothy,” said Elizabeth Aguilar, a senior in the House of Corrie Ten Boom. “The House of Ten Boom named him after divine inspiration… multiple times I saw him zoom under the tables in the library.”

Like his namesake, Timothy was also known to leave nuggets of wisdom wherever he traveled.

“I had my desk pooped on when I was working in the office over the summer of 2021,” Straughn remarked. “The snacks I left on my desk would be eaten.”

Straughn believed the culprit was most likely Timothy.

“I would lean with the theory that it’s the same mouse rather than multiple mice staking out an area– It feels far too territorial and rational for mice to be claiming real estate in such an expensive area of New York.”

Timothy was a prolific underground figure at King’s and lived out the King’s lifestyle like no other rodent or PPE student before him. Whether he was pulling an all-nighter in the library or partaking in the free Chick-Fil-A provided during every public recording of a stranger reading the scripture, Timothy influenced this strategic institution from within during every waking moment of his tragically short life.

“Last spring was the last time I ever laid eyes on him,” Aguilar continued. “He never hurt anyone and I miss him dearly.”

When asked about Timothy, Josiah DeBoer, the student librarian on duty, noted that he had not seen a mouse for at least a semester. “They put out mouse traps all over the place, and mice have not been seen since.” (As one of the few remaining student workers with hours, DeBoer was busy and unable to provide additional details).

True to his word, mouse traps are scattered around the library– all emptier than the city room at noon on Monday. Could Timothy have met his end in one of these? Scoop W. Story, a feline mousing expert in the House of C.S. Lewis, thought it was distinctly possible. “Meow mrrow meow mlem,” she explained, licking her nether regions. “Mlem meow mrrow mlem purrrrrrrrrrr.”

If true, then Timothy’s end may have been a particularly gruesome one – according to the trap manufacturer’s website, “We leave no stones unturned when it comes to pests and we have an unwavering conviction in our products.”

Unable to find food with his feet glued to the floor of the cold and lonely trap, Timothy likely starved and was then discarded, a fate the few remaining attendees of the Public Readings of Scripture can doubtlessly relate to. In their rush to “rightsize” their institution, the school had lost one of its most relevant figures.

Though some thought him a nuisance, Timothy’s legacy far exceeded that – he was a light in the darkness, embodying the King’s life in a way most students never could. A pest he may have been, but he was our pest. Timothy’s legacy will live on in the institution he loved.

A eulogy and brief service will be held for Timothy on Feb. 2 at noon in room 626. All friends, well-wishers and PPE students are invited to attend.

Joshua Story is the Humor Columnist for the Empire State Tribune. He is a junior studying Journalism, Culture and Society.

Of Mice and Men At The King’s College