“Come with me, and you’ll be in a world of pure Seabury-ation.” These words are forever etched into our minds due to the admissions process that all must survive to attend Seabury. Even a whisper of discussion about the system results in a minimum month-long sentence in THE BOX, but the truth can no longer remain unspoken.
Lured by the promise of a chocolate oasis, you, a prospective student, must acquire the Golden Tooth by purchasing a copious quantity of pirate rats, hoping that a lucky one will shed its golden ivory while the moon is waning gibbous.
Then, you along with four other students meet Dr. Schwonka outside of the school for a tour. Sixteenth grader L.L. Bean said, “He was limping, and then he just did a somersault.”
Along the way, the individual character flaws underlined by mutual egomania cause your naughty peers to fail Schwonka’s test and are subject to consequences of incineration, Willem Dafoe and cuddles. Oneth grader Rowan Botes recounts one such punishment: “One girl sneezed and Schwonka, irate, snapped his fingers, prompting a flurry of “West Side Story” men dance-fighting her. She left with licorice for legs,” he said.
You are the victor! To alert your family of your success, you both ride the Great Ladle Elevator, composed strictly of ladles, functioning as a rocket, and crash into your quaint home, obliterating it.
Enrolled, you rest easy … but was it worth it?
