by Lola Buncher
This weekend, Bard will be hosting a Stuff-A-Bear workshop in the Faculty Dining room. The bears, originally intended to end up in the loving arms of a child, will now be rerouted to the drunken mess that is our student body. Instead of a warm, caring home, each of these toy bears will awake to knee-deep mud pools, large sums of vomit, and CupcakKe’s “Deepthroat” playing over the loudspeakers. It is every stuffed bear’s worst nightmare. Some bears got contact highs from the drunk and rowdy students as the night went on. Daniela, one of the more impaired bear-stuffers, was quoted screaming, “My bear is friggin’ sexy... I’m gonna make her a slut bear!”
Although Slut Bear could not be reached for comment, the teardrop beading at the corner of its eye spoke volumes. Later that night, Slut Bear was taken for a ride on the 2am shuttle to Red Hook, where she was forgotten and left to die on the leather seats. As Slut Bear rode from Tivoli to Red Hook in a never-ending loop, she looked into the window of a warmly lit home. She saw a young girl being tucked into bed next to a bear that looked just like her–just less slutty. The young girl kissed her little bear on the forehead as they drifted off to sleep together. Slut Bear looked down at herself–dirty, slutty, and crusty with beer–and said “Fuck you, Spring Fling.”
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