Thoughts from a Rock: Burn It Down

I am a rock. I am an island (of cool. The only cool thing in Brookings, S.D.). I am a rock.

The Dakota Marker, back during its happy days at NDSU.

Sorry. I get all my kicks from cheap jokes because there is literally nothing redeeming about this place.

Actually, hold that thought. Brookings has a claim to fame: it’s the hometown of Charles Percy from Grey’s Anatomy. But even that’s fictional.

When I get down to it, this place sucks. It sucks harder than … umm … a hoover. Yeah, a hoover.

But where are my manners? I swear, Brookings is rubbing off on me.

Hello. I am Dakota “The Rock” Johnson, but you can call me the Dakota Marker Trophy if you want to be all formal like that. I belong at NDSU, but because the universe has a wicked sense of humor, some Jack@$$ (rabbits?) carted me off to the god-forsaken cesspool that is Brookings.

One year after the founding of the first European settlement here, Yankton Indians drove the settlers off. I’m here to say, it wouldn’t have taken a genius to know to stay the hell away. Instead, the blazing idiots went back. And now we have Brookings.

The fact that Brookings exists doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the fact that I’m actually in Brookings. I thought I was safe in North Dakota. I thought a five-time championship winning team could defend my honor. I was wrong.

But I’m not bitter.

Please take me back. I’ll forgive that time you thought I was granite (I’m quartzite). It doesn’t even matter anymore. Just make it stop.

They’ve tried waterboarding to make me forget about you. It hasn’t worked. In between torture sessions (official ones — really, the whole thing is one long torture session), the only thing I can think about is how everything smells like mothballs and rotten corn.

What I’m really afraid of is Stockholm syndrome — what if I actually like it here? I know, I shudder at the thought too. What if I start to like being tortured on a daily basis? I might come back with some new kinks. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun.

Send down a task force. Trade them Dean-O in return for me. Torch the place so I never have to go back. Do what you gotta do.

Here’s what I’m trying to say: get me the hell out of here. Please.

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