If someone were to be murdered in the Center for the Arts, no one would run to help the poor soul.

Yes, CFA is one of the most densely populated buildings outside of class hours. No, we arts students aren’t all heartless wretches. We’re just weird.

“We” are the creative minds who roam the halls of CFA at all hours of the night. Painting, sculpting, acting, singing, dancing, playing instruments, playing DJ, and, my favorite, designing newspapers.

That’s what any outsider would guess that we do, and they’d be correct, but a true CFA night owl knows that our artistic endeavors are only the beginning.

Swearing, screaming, jumping, running, chasing, hiding, laughing and causing mischief is the true meaning of life in CFA.

What any student knows is that madness ensues the closer one gets to midnight, especially if the preceding hours have been filled with unending homework assignments and the stench of an impending deadline. And it increases exponentially when you realize you’re not sleeping any time soon.

But what happens when you throw half a dozen students experiencing the same late-night, college-life phenomenon in the same room?

Chaos.

Jokes that wouldn’t be funny when shared between two people during a normal daylight hour are the most hysterical thing you’ve ever heard in your life at 2 a.m. when you’ve been staring for hours at the same bright computer screens, the same boring walls, and the same people, who are possibly starting to drive you a little crazy at this point.

As creative minds, some of our jokes are quite funny, but others will never be understood again because the exact same combination of sleep-deprivation, caffeination, and procrastination could never be recreated.

Other combinations of the same ingredients produce drastically different results. Like maniacal laughter, or bone-chilling screams.

I cannot count the number of times I have heard someone down the hall screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night, but I do remember that this happened several times before I even realized that it probably ought to concern me at least a little.

Screaming normally symbolizes fear, pain, anger or some other negative emotion.

In CFA, I’m pretty sure it’s just another form of a communication.

Maybe it means, “I’m hungry!” or “Screw this project!” or “A mouse!”

Yes, a mouse. We have those in CFA. I think there’s a crow, too; it lives in the vents in the communication studies hallway. So does a monster of some sort. I know because we can hear it rattling the vents with anticipation.

What’s it waiting on?

The true source of the screams, I propose. Some unsuspecting student puts down her paint can to seek out sustenance (a Snickers bar and some really old Coke, no doubt) from the vending machines in the basement. But, since the building is a labyrinth, a simple quest for snacks can be a daunting journey.

Especially if the CFA monster gets you.

A huge, purple bird (Tuffy’s evil twin?) thrusts its talons out of the shaft of the old, creaky, graffiti-stricken elevator and yanks helpless students into its lair (hidden beneath Hugo Young, just like the Phantom’s, of course).

Or maybe my brain chemistry is just modified because I’ve guzzled too much Mello Yellow to keep me from falling asleep on my keyboard and scarfed down too much sugar to keep me from swearing at Photoshop.

The world may never know because screaming is as normal as breathing in CFA.

But I challenge next year’s Collegian staff to find out. Chase the lead. Find the monster. It may require a sacrifice of a few students, but, hey, it’d be a darn good story.

If it turns out I’m right, I expect something to be named after me. Maybe the chair in the stairwell that says “Kitten” above it.

If you know what I mean, you’re a CFA night owl. If not…well, you’ll probably live longer.