Writer's Disclaimer: The following article is satirical in nature, and provides absolutely no facts whatsoever.
Triceragoose, the "third mascot" of the University of Richmond -- after the Spider and a Cigarette Executive -- has been reported missing by a number of concerned students.
Triceragoose, also known as "King Duck" or "Steve" (by his family), was last seen at the Westhampton Lake, where he had presumably resided for the past hundred years.
From CSI, M. Night Shyamalan movies, and the "Goosebumps" books I read in third grade, I ascertained that Triceragoose's disappearance could be attributed to one of three things:
1. A serial killer driven to madness, when, as a freshman, Triceragoose chased him.
2. A haunted oak tree that has been eating fowl for years, but has been protected by the university administration.
3. Drunken frat guys.
I quickly realized that if the administration had been protecting the trees for years, I wouldn't be able to stop them (I mean, if we can't stop them from taking away our trays, what chance do I possibly have of overturning the rule of enchanted trees?). And if there were a serial killer on the loose, I'd rather just let him kill ducks than an intrepid reporter.
So, investigating the one remaining option, I relied on an old postulate, "The criminal will always return to the scene of the crime."
I packed my bags and prepared for the arduous trip from Grey Court to Westhampton Lake, but upon arriving I realized that, by my own logic, I could be misconstrued as the very same criminal returning to the scene of the crime. I quickly turned around and made the journey home, praying nobody saw me.
Back at my dorm, there was a major break in the case: Apparently, someone had seen the kidnappers take Triceragoose. This was horrible news for my tree theory, but fantastic news for my journalism career! Apparently the kidnappers had taken Triceragoose into Marsh Hall, where they still held him ... dead or alive.
I caught the next flight to Marsh Hall, and arrived confident that I would soon get to the bottom of this case. I walked into the front doors, and began searching for any sign of an estranged duck. After finding none, I resorted to just knocking on suspicious doors (i.e., all of them).
At the third door, a resident assistant answered the door, and kicked me out of Marsh Hall until the end of the semester. (I just know the administration is behind that somehow ...)
Where Triceragoose is, we may never know. But, just in case the kidnappers are reading this: He's not really a goose. He's a duck. So don't use him for your Christmas Goose, use him for your Christmas Duck!
Contact writer Zach Stewart at firstname.lastname@example.org