Editor’s Note: This story appeared as part of an April Fools issue.

Dear Ye Olde Nexus,

This may shock and awe all of you, but with the Good Lord’s help I hope that you all might suspend your disbelief at this most wretched news I here reveal.

I live in the Anacapa Hall of Residence, and of late, deep in the twilight hours, whilst I labour by candlelight at my studies, eerie sounds have found their way into my chambers. One such night, I stepped outside to investigate and heard an unholy howling coming from the door of my RA. The moon was at its peak and full that night. I wish not to recall the scene I apprehended when I snuck outside to peek in her window, but there is absolutely no reason a God-fearing Christian would have that many shaven goats and squirrels in one room.

On another occasion, I did see a group of dogs sitting at a table with this RA, all smoking cigars and reading diabolical messages from that Lowest of Villains himself on cards, which they held in their paws.

I knew not what to make of these fearful visions so I continued my investigations, reporting all that I saw to the humble bell-ringing monks at the top of the Tower of Storke. Their suspicions were strong, and they bade me keep watch.

The final clue appeared one windy day outside, when a number of girls and I were sunning ourselves to fend off the Black Death. A deathly chill seemed to rise from the very earth, and the treacherous RA walked by, a formation of seagulls flying above her. A sudden and powerful gust of wind blew her skirts, and we all beheld her furry legs in all their demonic fury.

Rae McSandwich, that pagan RA, shall be apprehended and brought to the lagoon at noontide on the morrow. I request my fellow students be there to test her Witchiness. We shall tie her to a large rock, and see if she floats when tossed into those dark waters. If she does, she shall be burned. If not, well, one certainly cannot make Jesus Blood without squishing some grapes.