Written by Zach Siddiqui, Humour Editor
Dear Peakie,
You’ve basically raised me this semester. I’ve done everything you’ve prescribed in your column! I left the Red Backpack Cult because of you. All my eyelashes fell out after I started my diet of printed assignment sheets only. I filed for bankruptcy on Thursday! And none of this would have been possible without you . . . so what will I do when Spring 2020 ends and I don’t have your advice anymore?
I am scared of what the future holds for me in the coming weeks without this column. In the absence of your moral guidance, I have already stolen three puddings from Mackenzie Café. They were freaking disgusting, too. I couldn’t even keep them inside my belly, and soon puked them up all over a wall of SFSS campaign posters.
See what you’ve done to me? I’m literally dumber than a red backpack and I can’t live without you, Peakie.
From, A Lost One
Dear A Lost One,
That’s so cute. I’m sorry to hear that you can’t live without me. I know it must be hard to be a figment of my imagination, dependent on my whimsical mind and submitted to my editor to help me convince The Peak that I deserve funding. But I promise that you are a better person than I, and you will be OK. Trust yourself and your abilities. You’re going to kill it this summer, especially after you reincorporate protein into your diet and your eyelashes come back.
I’ve prepared you and yours for the long haul, and now I need a vacation. Might mess around a bit and build a summer home in Prince George, IDK. It’s called “Prince” George so it must be bougie enough, underneath the ice and the despair of teens who already know they’re doomed to raise families in the shadow of Big Pulp Mill.
Anyways. I believe in you, SFU. Give yourself the advice you want to see in the world; drink wine through used Nike socks without being told. I’ll be back, you’ll see. Until then, remember me and my reign of agenda-setting through media fondly. Don’t cry because it’s happened; smile because it’s over.
Love, Peakie
