On Friday afternoon, March 24, a spry David Jay Hankerton decided to investigate the legend of Founders Bridge. Having heard from multiple sources that the troll beneath Founders Bridge was hassling students as they passed overhead with unnecessary compliments and light banter, he was determined to get to the bottom of the dastardly situation.

DJ began his investigation by sending in Covington College’s Secret Service, nicknamed the ‘Black Spot’ by Trentonian pirates. Hankerton was unable to secure any real information outside of a blurry picture which has been inserted for the viewer’s pleasure. DJ’s lead crony, Dinky Dew-Brie, named such for the cheese he leaves in his front lawn to gather morning mist, secured this picture in the woods behind Jackson with the camera on his Motorola Razr. Dew-Brie lamented, “iPhones are the bane of art, they destroy the true craft of photography.”

Disappointed in the work Dew-Brie had provided, David Jay decided that he must seek out the troll himself, but doing so where Christ was #preeminent was suuuups tough tho FR FR. 

Having decided to hunt down the troll himself, David instituted a Day of Prayer so that his crusade would be blessed by blessed trinity of Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli. Following fervent prayer, and soulful renditions of Amazing Grace, David did some research before venturing off to battle the beast beneath Founders bridge with his vintage set of Bible Man armor in tow. 

After interviewing a few students David Jay learned a few key details:

In an interview with handsome Covington senior, J.C. Keenflirt, he found out that the troll, “has serious tendencies to roam in red jumpsuits looking something like a Scottish tomato. Pip pip cheerio, do you like my mustache?” 

In an interview with Covington’s resident African prince, Fatjim, he discovered the troll, “is very nice guy, my English so bad.” David Jay was very intrigued at this point and noted the troll should be nominated for the Spirit of Friendship award the following year. 

He thought candidly, “Why can’t he just leave everyone alone? What if people don’t want to be complemented, like they are super insecure about their hair that day, you know, and then he’s just all ‘oh it looks so nice ☺’ and they’re all ‘ugh, I hate it, I look like the Chartwells dog…’ nah mean, bruh?” Pleased with his usage of hip words he awarded himself a gold star and dove into a bag of Scooby Snacks.

Upon adorning himself with the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, and the sword of the spirit (but not like too much of it cuz Pentecostals ya know…), he set off into the wide world of Covington’s campus. While venturing past the lair of Mortdawg and Kale Chip, DJ mumbled an Apostle’s Creed under his breath, “died and was buried. He descended into Hell.” 

“Finally,” he declared, “the cave of mine enemy! Lol who says that anymore? I sound like my dad, Grainy Blowes.” The sword of the spirit began to glow blue, sensing the blood of a troll nearby, and it illuminated the cavern beneath Founders Bridge. Echoing all around his head David heard “Hey man, how are you today? Hey man, how are you today?” Inching forward one shaky step at a time, with feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace, David got closer towards the echo’s genesis. 

Hurdling over a forgotten bike rack our hero encountered his foe face to face. David screamed self-righteously at the troll, “UGH! You’re disturbing the peace with your compliments dudeski. Can’t you read contract, you signed it in blood you sweaty mongrel!??!?!” 

The troll looked up and said, “Hey man, that was rude. Do you really think that? Ah, schnikes man! I’m so sorry. I’m just trying to really spread gospel love. Want a hug?” Approaching David was a behemoth of a troll, three times larger than he could ever imagine, arms spread wide for a deathly embrace. 

Swinging wildly David sliced off one arm of the troll, and was like, “oh shoots, this is like my boi Luke Skywalker when he messed up that Wampa YEET.” 

When the troll lost its arm, it let out a blood curdling giggle and curled up into a ball. Losing its initial form, it became a student again, the pain forcing the creature to reveal its true identity. Lo and behold, in the fetal position was a student, one that David knew well from late night snuggle sessions, Juan Fa-Mulan. 

DJ rushed Juan Fa-Mulan down to the infirmary in Jackson where head enchantress, Sabrina Bolt, was ready to heal the injuries that had been inflicted inside the Founders Cave. With a swish and a flick of her wand an arm was reconstructed upon Juan Fa-Mulan’s shoulder. Happy with her work she popped a dum-dum sucker in his mouth, reminded him to order his Tamiflu and sent Juan on his merry little way.

After putting down this riotous insurrection on campus, and fulfilling his lifelong dreams of becoming a Jedi Knight, DJ felt like a zillion bucks! Hooray! To celebrate the event DJ sent out an email to ‘all trad students’ and informed the masses that dinner would be in Mills, and there will be mini corndogs!

Moral of the story: Wampas mean well.