Andover is in the headlines yet again, but this time it’s not for racism. Three astronomy students claim to have been “abducted” by “aliens” during a study session on Wednesday night. As the only people willing to hear out their case, the Eighth Page conducted an interview.
The interview, although starting normal, took a turn for the strange very quickly. We got a hold of three apparent survivors: Tilda Mcclinton ’23, Curston Pavlov ’23, and Moe Sloman ’23. They were very eager to talk to us, almost as if they were under a trance. “Yes, welcome to the light,” they said as we walked into their astronomy classroom. The three students were sitting on the floor in a circle around an icon of Neil Degrasse Tyson made of toothpicks and gumdrops.
The story as it stands is that Tilda, Curston, and Moe were working on their group midterm in the classroom when they saw it. The Saucer. A large silver disc with a distinct leopard print pattern on it. It fit perfectly in the opening between the observatory and the great cosmos. Confused and intrigued by the leopard print, the students felt drawn to this vehicle. As Moe reached out to touch the saucer, a bridge opened up between the U.F.O. and the students. “My arm almost came clean off,” added Moe. “Luckily my lacrosse reflexes kicked in and I still have my game winning arm.” Our writer confirmed that Moe still has his arm, but the games still go unwon.
After the bridge lowered, exited two rodent looking creatures both about three feet tall in purple smoking jackets. Their first words to the students apparently were “Hola Humanos. ¿Que Pasa?”
“As someone in Spanish-300, it struck me just how informal these alien rodents just were with us. We’re Andover students, and who are they? Three foot tall mole rats,” said Tilda about the introduction. None of them thought it strange at all that these aliens spoke Spanish, which confused our writers.
“We then were all sucked by a vacuum and into the U.F.O., it looked strangely like the waiting room outside of the counseling offices of Sykes with the little tissue packets and everything,” adds Curston. “We soon realized we were not alone. It was not just me and my lab partners, and the moles… but a whole colony of these aliens.” The students sat in the beige chairs and watched as the alien rodents spoke broken spanish in their smoking jackets.
This story went on for much longer, with more and more graphic details of the moles’ actions and more and more incorrect grammar of their Spanish, but we at the Eighth Page have decided to stop the story here and leave the rest to our trusted readers’ imaginations. (Three words: biblioteca, perro, ¡espera!)
Anyways, Ms. Hilton, that’s why they were late to sign in. The Phillipian is not taking a stance on whether this is true, but the Eighth Page believes them.
