The Signs of the Apocalypse Issue
March 2007
- Returning student affects annoying, fake accent
- Duke campus besieged by confused Vikings
- God of the sea seeks revenge at Neptune's loss
- That "golden delicious" apple was surprisingly undelicious
Please, Sir, may I have some more?
I think I might just sell you into slavery
Reasons for believing we are, in fact, no longer in Kansas
- Munchkins (60.3%)
- A mountain (4%)
- A sign indicating otherwise (18%)
- A beach (3%)
- An old Kucinich sticker (5%)
- Culture (10.7%)
March 2007 Articles
- Center Spread: Bounce buries a
bodytime capsule
- 10 things we will never joke about again
- The editor-in-chief takes long road to power
- Super-sultry storytime suggests a subject for sensuous students
- WoW spring break madness 2007
- UNC Hospitals to initiate new system for kidney distribution
- Rhodes scholar to undo Rhodes' legacy
- Dumbass kid ruins fun for everybody
- Ask Alli
- "Lost" writers lost
- CAP Act leads to little pizza parties
- Man claims victory over Solitaire
- Student absorbs culture, bird flu while abroad
- New Editor-in-Chief already an epic asshole
- A linguistic phenomenon
- Allred claims throne
- Fanfiction not "fantastic," say lawyers
- Spoiler alert! HP7 leaked to BoUNCe
- Spring Break in Chapel Hill
A sudden knock at the door roused Rachaelle from where she had fallen into a sensuous sleep on the polar bear skin rug. Throwing a filmy robe about her ivory shoulders, she rose leisurely and opened the oaken door. A gasp of surprise escaped from her perfectlysculpted lips, for who should be standing in the sultry summer night but Eben.
Eben. . . . Rachaelle had not seen him since that magical evening at Lou’s karaoke bar. Their eyes had met from across the room as the drunken singer totally whaled away on “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Time had passed, but Eben had not changed. His eyes were still green and intense, and his muscled body was still as hard as an advanced quantum physics calculation.
“Eben!” Rachaelle whispered breathlessly. “What are you doing here? I can’t believe this. It’s been ten years. How did you ever find me in Paris? And why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
“Trifles, darling,” said Eben, and as he blasted her with his smoldering green stare, she had no choice but to concede. He stirred her soul in a way that nothing could other than Hugh Grant movies from before “Music & Lyrics.”
Eben slowly unfastened Rachaelle’s gown and let it slip to the floor, revealing her toned and surgically-enhanced body. She had rippling waves of golden hair streaming wonderfully about her shoulders that contrasted beautifully with her coral lips and her eyes of deepest cerulean sky. Also, she had very large breasts. Right now, the supple pair heaved like two jellyfish caught in a sudden rip current. This aroused Eben, and he expressed his desire with the eloquence that had won him such great renown.
“Let’s screw.”
“I feel the same way. You read me like a book.”
“Ha! You know I can’t read.”
She knew. That was one of his special virtues.
As the night wore on, their passions mounted higher and higher until their emotional peaks reached those of Scientologists and longtime acid droppers. She writhed in overwhelming carnal pleasure as the heat from his body burned within her, and he bathed in her feminine scent, an intoxicating bouquet of African orchids and french fries. It seemed to them as if the ecstasy would never end, much like the extended edition of “Return of the King.”
As the morning light streamed over Rachaelle’s spent body, she awoke once again from sensuous sleep. Eben was gone. Had it all been a wonderful dream? The polar bear fur abrasions on her body said otherwise, but still it all seemed so fleeting.
And then she smiled knowingly. For stuck inside the polar bear’s mouth was the single edition of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” The remix.