A whistleblower report filed by anonymous informant has revealed the shocking truth that many dared not believe: Timothy Martin ’24, underneath an initial layer of well-organized and pressed clothes in each of his dorm room’s drawers, has hidden a monstrous collection of unsorted, unwashed, and unfolded clothes.
“Though Mr Martin professes to be a tidy, hygienic, orderly, and conscientious individual,” the damning report, a copy of which was released to the Jack-o-Lantern, concludes, “beneath a narrow band of clothes-based civility and structure, unimaginable horror reigns that puts the lie to his outward appearance.”
The report gave horrific revelation followed by stunning scene: a single layer of shirts, each folded with the cuffs down and the sleeves back, were all that stood between the unwary eye and a twisted Gordian knot of jeans splattered with paint, a linen bathrobe, grass-stained knee-high socks, and an ascot tie; well-starched khaki chinos resting uneasily over a gruesome melange of atrocious sweaters, wrinkled button-downs, and dirty underwear; and, in one instance almost too sickening to relate, folded sheets covered a collection of moldy t-shirts, some tie-dye, some stained with a mysterious red liquid, some torn with holes of possibly animalistic origin, and a single shoe, dirt still affixed to its tread.
“One sees in this chest of drawers a certain sickness, possibly fascistic, possibly sexual, possibly bestial,” said Dr. Elizabeth Delil, a professor in the philosophy department specializing in the theory of sadism, masochism, and sado-masichism. “Martin’s mind, like his clothes, is disordered, and yet he performs an ordered existence on top of it. One shudders to imagine what one might find if one pulled back the carefully matched and color coordinated socks of his psyche to reveal the writhing beer-stained sweatshirts of his subconscious. What fantasies of unlimited cruelty dwell there?”
Friends and associates of Timothy Martin agree with the assessment. “He always seemed to me to be one triangle-folded washcloth away from snapping,” said Maria Hollander, ’24. “All it would take was one less ironed polo shirt and you could see the inferno below.”
“Tim’s the kind of guy that makes you pray the washing machines never go down,” agreed Samuel McCullough ’25. “I mean, if you took away that one pretense of civility he has—he’d be like an animal. He might do anything, and I mean anything.”
At long last, and with great precaution and security, Timothy Martin was reached for comment.
“What? Nah, I didn’t get a chance to finish my laundry this week because of a midterm. I’ll get it all sorted by next week.”
His lies, like his rotting and disorganized clothes, are unlimited.
—JR ’25
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