Doolino Knows Best: The Wolf of Longstreet

It isn’t even a month into the semester and yet midterms have already started. Walk into the bottom floor of Robert W. Woodruff 

Library and, if you are somehow able to find a place to sit, you will notice people working hard, from neuroscience and behavioral biology students furiously memorizing the names of different brain folds to B-school kids seriously reading a thesaurus to find a better word for “leadership.” With Irma-geddon over and the calendar going through a 

drought of long weekends, let’s just hope that we can persevere until fall break.

Dear Doolino,

I am a freshman currently living in a double. You may know the person I live with, he once wrote a question to you under the penname “A Bad Shroomate.” While I like my roommate, I have a theory about him that, if proven true, could change my dynamic with him forever.

I think that he is a werewolf.

I know this might sound crazy, but hear me out. The first thing is that he is super hairy, like has to use three razors to shave his morning stubble hairy. Additionally, he randomly takes these walks into Lullwater at the night. I ask him what he is going to do, and he responds with something along the lines of appreciating the natural beauty of the place at night. I did not look into it too much, so I just went online and spent about an hour contributing to some anti-marijuana forums and ranting about the dangers of the Devil’s lettuce. After I was done, I brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and kissed my Citizens Against Legalizing Marijuana poster before calling it a night.

I was then woken up to a loud bashing at about 2 a.m. With his eyes a furious blood red, my roommate stumbled in with a large paper bag clenched in his fist. I asked him what was in the bag, to which he replied “six Big Macs” — the ideal daily nutrition for the average wolf. I then watched him demolish those burgers in just a few seconds, with absolutely nothing left after the carnage. Having consumed so much food, he vomited a little bit into the paper bag and threw it away. He then went to sleep on the floor like a dog.

I am left with no choice but to conclude that he is a werewolf. How do I tackle this situation?



Dear Lycanthrow-up,

Judging by your situation, there is absolutely no other possible conclusion that can be drawn from your findings. Maybe you should ask the people on your forums for help as to what you should do.



Dear Doolino,

I am stuck in a cake.

Let me give you some backstory. About one hour before U.S. News & World Report (USNWR) announced their results for “Best Colleges” of national universities, I was ordered by some higher-ups in the University to hide in a large black forest cake in which “Top 20” was written on with icing. Donning my Dooley costume, I entered the cake about an hour before the results were announced, excited to surprise some of the lucky students at the DUC-ling the next day.

The minutes have turned to hours and the hours to days, and yet I have still not been told to exit the cake. I am unsure as to what has happened, but at one point I heard a loud sigh outside of the cake. Not wanting to ruin the surprise in case I was given the go ahead, I remained inside of the cake. The pangs of starvation attacked me after a while, and I do not want to ruin the cake by eating any of it. With only the last 1 percent of my iPhone battery and the last 1 percent of my energy, I ask you this question: Is Emory still a top 20 school? Has all my work been in vain?


Let Them Eat Cake

Dear Let Them Eat Cake,

Having read the end of “Of Mice and Men” several times, I can confirm that Emory is a Top 20 school. Your work will not be for naught, for although your soul may leave these mortal coils, the school will ensure that your cake is distributed among the people. Thank you for your service.



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