Last Saturday the WWU Wolves faced off against the Whitman Missionaries in a Club Volleyball match that once again proved the necessity of the #prayforwhitman campaign so generously instigated by the WWU student body. The Wolves left the match with broad smiles and a deeper sense of faith, ready to give thanks, be with their friends and family and pray for the souls of the Whitman sinners, amen.
Scheduling the match was a struggle for the Wolves, whose rigorous schedules are filled with activities designed to enhance academic and personal growth. The WWU captain stated, “Obviously we can’t do anything from sunset on Friday to sunset on Saturday because of the Sabbath. Also Sunday is out because of God. So basically we can only play Saturday at 10:30 pm.” This schedule put the Whitman team at an immediate disadvantage, as their hedonistic lifestyle prevents them from ever NOT getting wasted on a Saturday night. While the Wolves warmed up with an inspiring few minutes of passing, setting and hitting, the Missionaries lay on the floor in various states of undress, took pulls from a handle of vodka and tried to clean up the more egregious pools of vomit with a pair of knee pads.
In the game itself, the Missionaries were outdone not only in terms of skill, but also in religious devotion. After each point the WWU team huddled together, slapped each other on the ass and shouted “1-2-3 FOR HIM!” In contrast, the Missionaries celebrated their victories with body shots off of their libero. While the Wolves took a commanding lead, things evened out as the Missionaries pre-game Adderall kicked in. For a while, it looked like the Whitman team might take the evening. However, shortly thereafter several Whitman players were struck down with fire and brimstone after several injudicious uses of the word “fuck,” while their female libero was turned into a pillar of salt. “That’s what happens when you play ball with gays and chicks,” stated one WWU player. “CLASSIC Sodom and Gomorrah.”
With one of their best players reduced to a pile of ashes and a salt-lick, the Missionaries quickly folded. Feeling pleased with the performance of his subjects, God rewarded the WWU team: The floor of the gym split open and out popped several Bibles, a few medieval chastity belts and a Ted Cruz 2016 bumper sticker. The Wolves collected their prizes and rolled out, pleased that they could now with clear conscious go back to their rooms, say their prayers and thank God that they didn’t get into Whitman.