The quaint campus of Luther College has found itself drastically turned upside down. Disease victimizes students from Baker Village to Olson to Miller. Beloved President Paula Carlson has even been caught coughing into the crook of her arm. Administration, faculty, and staff are rushing to find the cause and solution for the illness. The situation is so severe, famed alum and professor emeritus, Ole Ostakaka, PhD, has been called on in order to answer the questions dire to Luther's survival.

Ostakaka believes the disease to be similar to one he found in his earlier days of research deep in the heart of the rain forest. The professor hypothesizes a student may have unknowingly illegally imported an infected mosquito when coming back from a recent January term expedition. When the mosquito was brought back to campus, it was lost and was able to survive due to the unusual February heat. The mosquito then transferred the illness to a squirrel. That's when things began to get out of hand. For years students have hypothesized the cafeteria, on occasion, has used campus-captured squirrel meat when the price of other livestock have risen. Ostakaka says the recent outbreak would give new merit to the claims of alternative meats in the caf.

The theory would explain why the wider city of Decorah has not been afflicted. Classism is a prevalent problem among squirrels; squirrels on campus have been noticed to not associate with the squirrels in town. Intelligence is higher among campus squirrels. Burroughs in trees around the college would also seem to have been gentrified. Evidence of something similar to the grocery store Whole Foods, as well as a craft brewery, amateur art gallery, and rare book store, have all been found in campus trees. Professor Weymer Liljedahl believes the campus squirrels would drive Subarus if they could.

Professor Ostakaka admits some students may have simply eaten the bad Christmas lutefisk from the back of someone's mini fridge freezer, and everything else is just a placebo effect. One can never tell if lutefisk is still good to eat in the first place, because, well, it always smells like it has gone bad.

The administration has decided to go with the professor's first theory, and has declared a ban of squirrels on campus for the next 90 days. The college has approved the purchase of a collection of cage traps from a Scandinavian based supplier.

Campus pastors are planning a blessing of the cage traps for this Sunday. The service will end with a proclamation of the beginning of the open season, and the congregation will file out singing the hymn "Onward Christian Soldiers". Fellowship in the main lobby will follow, with assorted food bars, coffee, and friendship being welcome to all.

Health services reminds those who will pursue the hunt, to wear the customary bright orange so they are not mistaken for a squirrel. Health services is not equipped to treat cage trap wounds. They would also like to remind students to try and stay away from others so they don't get infected.

Luther College has found itself in a gross situation, but through the grace of God, there's a chance the community will survive. Students are weary, but thankful. Things could be worse after all. At least they don't go to Wartburg.

*Disclaimer: This article is intended for entertainment purposes, and is not reporting actual incidents on the Luther College campus.*