The Eighth Page

The Eighth Page

Dreams of Hatred

Lately certain things about this school have been making me furious. There are the obvious ones, like the fact that I know a crack addict who gets more sleep than I do, and then there are the less obvious ones, like the fact that if you wash your hands in the Commons bathroom, you’ll smell…

The Eighth Page

Highway to the Danger Zone

Don’t get me wrong: I love the smell of tree-shaped air fresheners mixed with huge amounts of cigarette smoke as much as the next guy, but cabs in Andover are not getting any less creepy. Any one of the drivers could be a criminal, or worse yet, a mutant. For the time being, I’m not…

The Eighth Page

Stupider Like A Fox

Breaking free from this week’s theme, I will not write an article about being stupid. On the contrary, I will just write an incredibly stupid article. This will keep everyone happy, even Johnny Law, whom I sometimes like to call “Nate Scott ’05.” Johnny Law is always on my back, giving me such unreasonable orders…

The Eighth Page

Bowl-Cutted Freak

Tiny droplets of salty sweat pour down my back and thighs like the tears of an orphaned Romanian child on a cold city street. The girl next to me hyperventilates violently, heightening my nervousness. The proctor at the front of the row eyes me sumptuously, undressing me, it seems, with her eyes. And none of…

The Eighth Page

Sir Lance

If I were to ask you which section of The Phillipian has the smartest writers, you would say: “Why Sir Lance, the answer ‘tis Features, of course!” I can guarantee you would say that too, because if you didn’t I would have to smack you with an enormous ham. But how can we know that…

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