BY APRIL DAY
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At a monthly meeting of the Cambridge Vermin Council, the local mice, rats, and cockroaches voted to condemn Lincoln’s Inn, citing sanitation concerns. Romulus Twist of the Long Tail, Chairman of the Rat Joint Chiefs of Staff, announced the final decision, “It pains me to condemn the once-venerable institution that was Lincoln’s Inn,” he announced, “but we feel it is no longer a safe haven for our kind.”
The report, compiled by Remus the Short of the Bushy Whiskers, stated that several members of the mouse community complained of tummy aches and paw numbness after drinking what they believed to be beer. A cockroach team sent in to investigate was unable to conclude that the beverage was indeed beer. Manges the Crown Duke of Everett Garage reported that Lincoln’s Inn had become difficult to navigate as his legs kept sticking to the floor, putting him at risk due to decreased mobility.
Trusted sources, speaking through a squeak-to-speak interpreter, related the history of the rat population of Lincoln’s Inn. It was once a place where only the most elite rodents could gain entry. They had to donate 3 of their offspring to the Lincoln’s Inn guard, an honorary legion of the rodent army, as a membership fee. No one was allowed entry if their whiskers were not trimmed and powdered. But in return, they got to dine on the crumbs of scions of the country’s wealthiest families, the closest thing to blue-bloods this side of the Atlantic. These rats could tell their grandchildren, “I once feasted on a crust dropped by the future Justice Holmes” or “That Justice White, he was great, dropped food off his plate left and right, it was almost as if he knew we were there.”
Over time, Lincoln’s Inn fell into disrepair. In recent years, the only true possibility for a feast has been the 1L barbeque. “Now,” Gonder the Escalant, one of the council’s elders, reported, “there isn’t much variety in the food and beverages. This is not how we used to do it in the glory days. We used to have seven course meals.” He dabbed his moist beady eyes with a handkerchief, reminiscing. “Now the most we can hope for are some Cheeto cheese crumbs.” Lincoln’s Inn will remain off-limits to the local vermin until it begins serving real food on a regular basis, cleans up a bit, and gets some soon-to-be-famous members. The second floor of Pound Hall will serve as a temporary feeding ground for upper class rodents.
——————————————–In case you haven’t figured it out, this is the April Fools edition. Enjoy.