Criminally Annoying Student Falls to Death in Monty Python Homage

NOTE (feel free to ignore this little backstory, the real story is in un-italics): In my first official week as a student at Penn State's main campus in State College, PA, I joined a humor publication called Phroth. I joined because the only other publication I wanted to join was Penn State's renowned daily newspaper, The Daily Collegian, and I had heard the process of joining the Collegian was very difficult. So, Phroth became my fire insurance as I went through that tryout process. But, by some miraculous feat, I ended up meeting the Collegian's expectations and I am now in training to join their staff next semester. The time I'm required to invest in this training means that staying with Phroth would be nigh impossible. However, I did write a few fake news articles for the consideration of Phroth's writing honchos and, since I rarely ever post anything on my Hubpage to begin with, I figured I might as well post them for the amusement of digital passersby. Enjoy!

Tyrus Obergelder (sophomore-medorthophobia studies) fell to his death Wednesday evening from the Eisenhower parking garage after re-enacting the famous “Ministry of Silly Walks” sketch from Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

After being voted out of the Monty Python Society for neglecting to bathe, Obergelder decided to express his enthusiasm for the popular British television show on his own terms. He started out small, galloping through campus with a financially desperate graduate student in tow banging coconuts together to create the illusion of Obergelder riding a horse.

“Everyone around him just kind of ignored him,” remembers Patricia Abramoff (junior-nothing in particular), “And the guy following him had a ski mask on to hide his face. I think he was embarrassed. I sure as hell would be if I were in his shoes.” University Police Officer Charles Stenowitz cited Obergelder and his trusty steed for disturbing the peace, to which Obergelder responded by taunting the policeman in a French accent.

“I got the reference. And it made me chuckle a little bit,” said Officer Stenowitz, “But he just butchered the French accent. He sounded like Borat or something. I just gave him and the other guy their tickets and drove away. One of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen as a policeman, and that’s saying a lot for Penn State.”

When the graduate student suddenly moved to Kazakhstan the very next day, Obergelder began asking people in the HUB-Robeson Center if they wanted to have an argument with him for a nominal fee. “Oh yeah, I remember that little [person I didn’t like],” recalled Norton Ramsey (senior-bowling ball shining), “I just wanted to eat a bowl of Lucky Charms with my nephew over Skype and this [person of a certain rectal persuasion] marches over, closes my laptop and kicks my [religiously forsaken] cereal out of my hands. Then he starts showing me a price-list for arguing or some [fecal matter]. At that time, I was on probation, so I just got the [fornication] out of there.”

After another citation from Office Stenowitz, Obergelder was something of a notorious figure on campus and, as a result, all of his hi-jinks were generally ignored. This had a devastating impact on Obergelder’s self-esteem, according to his roommate. “He’d just sit there on his bed watching DVD after DVD of British comedy,” said Reese McDowall (sophomore-Gregorian chant), “He didn’t go to class or eat or shower or anything. Nothing but Monty Python and Fiji water from that case that fell into our room from out of the sky when that hot air balloon exploded over Beaver Hall.”

After a two-week wallow of existentialism, Obergelder emerged from his den of shame and started paying homage to his favorite Python sketch of all time: “The Ministry of Silly Walks.” Though he was largely ignored by passersby, Obergelder still found joy in flamboyantly twittering his legs about with every graceful tiptoe he made on campus. Obergelder reportedly took great joy in this, but it still wasn’t enough for him to be happy.

“It wasn’t enough to please himself,” said McDowall, “He wanted to share his love for Monty Python with the world, so he told me that he was going to go to the top of the biggest parking garage and do a silly walk on the edge. I think I was into drinking rubbing alcohol at that time, so I really wasn’t physically able to respond or anything.”

So, with unabated confidence that he’d make a few friends, Obergelder excitedly climbed to the top of Eisenhower parking garage, climbed to the top of the precarious edge and began his silly walk. Not even after one step did Obergelder lose his balance and fall seven stories to his death in the aesthetically pleasing briar patch below.

“It’s such a shame to see anybody lose their life to British humor,” commented University Police Officer Gabriel Menendez, “Lord knows that’s the worst way to go.” “I have to go to the bathroom,” explained Tommy Robertson (second grade-Arthurian literature), who was the only soul to witness Obergelder’s demise. According to Monty Python Society President Gerald Calvert, “We’re sorry to see a fellow Python enthusiast go, but he was kind of a simp. We made it very clear to him that his B.O. was making all of us nauseous and, unless he took a shower or something, we’d have to kick him out. It really was that bad. He smelled like what I think the Pittsburgh Steelers’ laundry would smell like after a three-a-day practice before it’s washed.”