Every Postgrad Entertaining Their Own Summer Apocalypse Fantasy
Following graduation and the mass departure of undergrads from St. Andrews, all remaining postgrads are reconstructing individual accounts of why the town is deserted and why they alone have been spared.
'It happens basically every year' explains Stanley Scott-Pilgrim, a psychology PhD student who has been studying the phenomenon like it's real. 'Suddenly there's no queue for the bar and they can use a library computer without being stared at like there's videos of them eating shit on Youtube. They kind of go a bit mad with the freedom, you know? Like that woman there: she's just come out of the lab after two weeks and she's having her own 28 Days Later moment. And that guy? He thinks he time-travelled in Aikman's toilets and is now living in a future where humankind has developed into two distinct species: Tesco staff and golfers.'
Though most of these fantasies appear to be harmless and self-contained, Stanley explained that some become actively hostile. This was soon proven true when, passing through St. Mary's Quad at sundown, we were accosted by a man holding a bat with nails in it claiming to be 'the Sheriff of this here Ghost Town and y'all better hightail it outta here'. After we complimented his bat, he then told us, 'thanks it's from the sport centre, please don't tell them I put nails in it.'
As a postgrad myself, I was curious to know more about how to avoid such delusions. After being shown out by the kind Sheriff, Stanley agreed to discuss the problem over a coffee. 'The most important thing is to keep busy and talk to people. We'll soon realise we're better off. I mean, what did we ever need undergrads for anyway?' Unfortunately, however, Zest had moved forward its closing time for summer. 'No, that's not fair at all,' he continued, his face mashed against the shop window. 'There was time now...'