It’s the dawn of a new age: Second semester has officially begun. It’s been two weeks, so obviously it makes sense that everyone is completely exhausted already. The countdown to spring break has already begun, and sickness is sweeping over this campus like a new form of the plague. The days of break are long behind us, and pale faces, incessant coughing and, of course, that one annoying person in the library that can’t stop sniffling have become the new norm. In other words, the student body has started looking more like sleepwalkers than those excited Whitties that circulate during the warmer sunny days. However, some people actually have an excuse for this weariness (besides staying up watching entirely too much Netflix): initiation week.
What does that entail? You may be wondering. Well, unfortunately for you, you don’t get to find out. It’s all hush hush, brotherhood, sisterhood, sworn to secrecy and all that jazz. Well, ease your mind because, boy, do I have an initiation process for you.
I should preface this by saying that the only club I’ve ever been the leader of was the Shakespeare Club in my high school, but quite honestly I think that makes me very qualified to lead this aforementioned initiation.
So here it goes. This is what should have been the initiation process into my high school Shakespeare Club. The most important thing that would need to happen is to have everyone walk in and seriously question whether they are joining a cult or not. This probably would mean that the ceremony should take place near a volcano because, you know, easy access to virgin sacrifices, etc. (I mean, when you ask a group of people to show up in all white, what do you expect?). The initiated members of the club would be shrouded in black-wearing masks, and obviously Enya’s “May It Be” would be playing on repeat in the background.
Cue the initiates: blindfolded, they walk in. The smell of sulfur lingers in the air as Enya’s voice rises above the bubbling lava. The initiated members all speak through the use of sonnets, but instead of clear voices they are all using autotuning; think T-Pain does Shakespeare.
Prior to the ceremony, the future members would have a list of things to bring (because why the hell not?)
A squirrel on a leash: It seems just crazy enough to inspire fear within them, but also it would be hilarious.
A Chipotle burrito: They would have to pay the extra dollar for guacamole because, well, what is a Chipotle burrito without guac?
A freshly baked pie: I don’t want to focus solely on food, but an apple pie á la mode sounds delicious right now.
A memorization of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back,” which they will be required to speak slowly and interpret in a dance.
Obviously there would also have to be some prerequisites to this initiation, so the week before initiation all of my lovely pledges would all have to speak solely in iambic pentameter. This sounds very difficult, but, hey, I’ve got to make sure they have what it takes to make it in the world of Shakespeare lovers. Along the same vein, they should probably only dress in Shakespearean garb. That means those poofy pants with the tights underneath. Though this will perhaps be embarrassing, but on the real, the Shakespeare club is worth it.
At the end of this week, through the blood, sweat and tears, they would all become official Shakespeare club members, bonded forever. Thus, the spirit of the Bard of Avon will live on in infamy.
