There was panic on the walkways of King's College this past Wednesday for two reasons. The first affected all of the students at King's and all of the people of Wilkes-Barre. At 7:08 AM, the sun rose. Many people were taken back by this occurrence, as the sun hadn't been seen in at least 100 years. Citizens of Wilkes-Barre, alarmed at the big ball of yellow light, hid in their homes, afraid to join the world of the living. College campuses were a different story, as many students come from far and wide-- from many locations that have sunshine on a seasonal basis. These schools (King's College, Wilkes University, and College Misericordia, to name a few) were vibrant and lush with the activity of youths.

Not all students were pleased with this burst in activity. On the campus of King's College, there was a throwdown the likes of which had never been seen. The day was like any other for the students in King's Physicians Assistant (PA) Program. For the day, there were 43 tests scheduled and the next day was light with only 39. With the pending break off of four tests and the nice weather, the group decided to take it easy. On one class break they went outside to sit in the sunshine and shoot the breeze. When they came out of the door to the Parente Life Sciences Building, they had a cruel surprise waiting for them. It seemed that Ms. Jennifer Fry, assistant professor of History, also decided to take part in the nice weather and teach her class outside in University-College Park. The PAs had no where to sit. They were thrown for a terrible loop.

this was the scene on the fateful afternoon (PAs, far right)

The PAs stood in shock and confusion, like a dog who has come to a comfortable sleeping place, only to find it occupied by another creature. After standing outside the door, building in number, the PAs figured that they had to fight for what was theirs. If they conceded on this, the first day of sun, what would happen for the rest (if the sun ever came out again)? The group felt that giving up their spot today would defeat them for the semester. It would leave them wandering like nomads searching for a dwelling place amidst annexed portions of their former homeland.

Leader, Sgt. Alexa Beretski, called the first war declaration, "Give us our seats, or we'll take your blood!" Ms. Fry responded, "What?" and all hell broke loose. The shocker of the battle was the usually sweet-hearted Emily Kluck who started the bloodshed by tossing a fork from lunch right through the shoulder of one of Fry's students. The slender beauty was commended by Sgt. Beretski, who led her troops into battle for their territory. Melissa Dombroski (again, not the skanky one from high school), onlooker, said, "What the--? It's a seat. My God! The terror-- the blood. Oh my-- Wait, I have a call." She proceeded to take her call in a small chair off to the left side of the building.

When all was done, the PAs won the battle against the History class. I guess they were history, huh? Ha! Damn I'm good. The casualties were in the tens in this terrible fight for territory. And the PAs? They suffered very few loses, except the innocence that is lost when you murder human beings. And Emily? Well she's doing great, and I wouldn't recommend you saying otherwise, if you know what's good for you. Students of other majors have avoided the seating area altogether since then. Some believe the story of the incident has kept them from sitting there, but I'm inclined to think it's the whole moat of blood. You decide.