I never dreamed that I would let go

Today there was a booth giving away free smoothies to trick people into liking the Honor Code. I took one to trick them into thinking that I like the Honor Code.

Now, I don't consider myself the rebellious type by anyone's standards. Before BYU I felt I had a healthy respect for the HC, proudly stabbing my signature in endorsement as I mailed my application letter. I think my perception of the document became skewed when I discovered by unfortunate experience that it was less virtuous and more condemnable to have a sick man in your house past twelve than to NCMO outside the determining residential doors. I guess what happens in Provo canyon, stays in Provo canyon. But what happens inside past midnight turns your mate into more than just a pumpkin; it turns him and those contaminated by his presence into perpetrators, subject to interrogation by the inhabitants of the infamous fourth floor of the Wilk. Your interrogator acts your spokesman in your subsequent trial, in which your presence is not required, and your academic fate is turned over to a committee, whose faces you will never know (unless you look them up on the official HC website).

I had a hard time deciding between strawberry and blueberry, but ultimately decided to go with strawberry due to its more soothing color.