Some say it was the best of times, some say it was the worst of times. For me, Diego Guerrero, it was actually pretty great because I got to get away from my assisted-suicide-pod of a dorm room in Elder Hall. This nightmare began three weeks ago when norovirus reached campus. It started with Joe from across the hall vomiting his large intestine, then it spread to my roommate who withered away in his bed like a Victorian boy stricken by Scarlet fever. It continued until the outbreak ended and I returned to my dorm to realize that I, Diego Guerrero, have become the last surviving Elderite.

I, Diego Guerrero, stepped over the occasional shit-stain in the carpet and fallen comrade to reach my room. It looked how liberals imagined Wuhan in March 2020. It’s exactly how I envisioned the dorm looking while I spent the last 2 weeks living in The Graduate Hotel by Hilton™.

It seemed like every day I learned of another person going to the pearly gates after getting the disease. Dave? I never much cared for him. Marcus? He will be missed. But me? I, Diego Guerrero, spent this time ordering room service and taking a shower WITHOUT flip-flops on—that’s the American Dream I know and love.
But sitting in my dorm surrounded by the decaying bodies of my less fortunate floormates, I, Diego Guerrero, can’t say I’m overcome with pride in my survival. I remember the mediocre times we used to have back in the day. My ancient and once proud people are gone. I ask the Great Spirit and Maker of All Life to welcome them into the next world; all but one, for I, Diego Guerrero, am the last of the Elderites.