Arrogant Communications Chair Kidnaps Talented, Young, Handsome Writer, Temporarily Ganks Weekly Article Gig

David Mautz, known to those close to him as Mr. “I mask my insecurities behind a hardened veneer of carelessness and nonchalant insouciance,” took his birthday-week splurge of reckless abandon a bit too far last Wednesday when he abducted Will LeBlanc, the brilliantly promising, “guy you’d like to bring home to Mom” class favorite who had been winning hearts every Tuesday with expertly woven tales of mischief and roguery. The shameless display of bodysnatching took place at LeBlanc’s daily tea party, normally conducted alongside a guest list of bedside animals and mannequins. Mr. Mautz had received a coveted but rarely extended invitation and saw an opportunity to spike the chamomile with an extract he had found online. Needless to say, the helpless Career Services GA fell ill and bequeathed in his last twilight of consciousness all his fortune to Gavin the Goose, a poorly named stuffed turtle who was in attendance. The bearded culprit, still reeling from his quarter-life crisis (the straight kind, not the John Mayer reference), schlepped the half-naked make-believe host to the trunk of his car, where this harmless innocent slept for thirteen hours.
           
As was to be expected, the ersatz narrative that replaced LeBlanc’s typically fanciful and Byronic pieces was nothing short of boastful and boorish. A touch of silliness here and a dash of whatnot there couldn’t conceal the stench of a murderous casserole of lies and iniquity whose recipe Mautz most likely found on the same site as the Chamomile extract. Nonetheless, though, readers were clearly too afraid of this evildoer’s Stalinesque ruthlessness to give him anything other than timid praise. In a controversial press conference yesterday, Mautz handled the charges with his vintage sense of denial and masterful fabrication.

“Just because you didn’t feel like writing a Whispers last week doesn’t mean you have to make up this crap about my story. What was I supposed to do? The newsletter had to go out, and people are used to it at this point…well maybe nobody really reads it, but that’s not the point. Don’t blame me because you wrote that terrible “Street Fighter” article. &$#$ that weak doesn’t even belong in the Reveille. I was the one that tried to pick you back up after it bombed. I was the one who found you huddled in the corner of your room eating soup and listening to Prince, talking about how you’d had an ‘epiphany about socks.’ This is how you repay me?”

Mautz’ seemingly impervious alibi is a calling card of this crime veteran, but a whole lotta’ stank crept into his “airtight” defense early this morning when an eyewitness to the misdeed spoke out in what is being called by some the most courageous stepping forward since Indiana Jones’ gamble in that “leap from the lion’s head” business. Edward Schmedward, a florist at the Ag Center, claims he saw Mautz “carrying what looked like a Greek god” out of the second-year’s house and into the back of a pink civic.

“After that I saw him down the street in the middle of a big circle, dancing around like some kind of monkey. He had all these people surrounding him, watching. At least I think they were all dancing. I don’t know what else they cou—oh wow that’s gross. There’s no way.”

Throughout his disappearance, despite Nancy Grace’s insistence that he had been buried alive then eaten, many assumed that he had simply run away to join Warren Jeffs’ polygamy cult in Nevada, given his repeatedly vocalized wish to be a “kept man, no matter the keeper.” Friends said that he had been letting his hair grow out to “better sell the doting wife card,” but insiders knew the truth—David “I wear cool shirts” Mautz had done the unthinkable.

No arrests have been made yet, but a definite confession appears imminent…if confessions involve bribery and/or guns to the head. After he had been convicted last year of stealing a dozen chickens from the Poultry Science department for “movie-night company,” he coolly answered reporters’ questions with the rationale of “I hate my job.” Thankfully, though, LeBlanc looks well and seems to have shaken off any of the effects of the drugging, though he has now gained yet another excuse for his stupid behavior and inappropriate remarks.