Late last night, during one of our legally mandated annual goat sacrifices, a horrifying revelation was immediately followed by a more reassuring but still upsetting one. Jenny Hanover, the Snitch’s Head of Aztec Studies, learned that the deity of war and sacrifice, Huitzilopochtli, had been reawakened with a craving for battle only satisfied through the observation of Freshmen getting into arguments.
We sent our managing editor, Hudson Yon, deep into the depths of B-CC, far beyond where mortal men should go, where serpents and bats grow into strange, unknowable shapes, twisted in the darkness, waiting for the warm of human flesh and blood, where the slow drip of water erodes the earth a bit more each year, and where countless books for next year’s sale are kept, so that he could get the insider perspective from Huitzilopochtli himself. He was accompanied by a group of staff members deemed disposable, including two unvaccinated students, a chess club member, and eight Tattler readers, who were to be used as sacrifices to gain the god’s favor.
“I HAVE AWAKENED,” began Huitzilopochtli in a deep groan, not in Nahual nor any language still spoken but completely comprehensible to Hudson, “AND I MUST SAY, LITTLE THING, I WAS EXPECTING TO SEE WORSE. WHY, MY OLD COMPATRIOT CAMAZOTZ INSISTED THINGS WOULD BE OVER BY 2012. YES, I WISHED FOR WAR, FOR BLOOD TO STAIN THE RIVERS RED, FOR DRAMATIC CELLO STINGS TO PUNCTUATE YOUR VIOLENT ACTIONS. WHEN I DID NOT SEE THIS, I WAS DISAPPOINTED. UNTIL I SAW SOMETHING UNIQUE. SOMETHING THAT QUENCHED MY THIRST FOR BLOOD.”
After pausing to eat a handful of sacrifices and exhale a cloud of mist, he continued, “YES, THERE IS BUT ONE THING THAT SATISFIES MY BLOODLUST: FRESHMEN FIGHTING! I LOVE IT! I LOVE THE PETTINESS, THE INANITY OF THE ARGUMENTS, THE HORMONE-FUELED RAGE COURSING THROUGH THEIR PATHETIC MORTAL BODIES! PHYSICAL OR EMOTIONAL, THE WOUNDS STILL PLEASE ME.” At this, he began to laugh, a deep rumbling roar of a noise, multi tonal and accompanied by the mirthful chittering of bats, a sound which awakened some primal fear in Hudson’s brain, causing him to flee.
Editor’s Note: Though Hudson was reportedly devoured by a pack of roving beasts which moved like jaguars but spoke like men, one of the sacrifices was allowed to escape with both the film reels and his life, on the condition that he continue to sow conflict among Freshmen. So if you’re reading this, fourteen year-olds, you’re all a bunch of prepubescent losers, and you should come fight me after school.
