Editor’s Note: This article was previously written in May of 2022. However, due to Non-disclosure Agreements, this article is just being brought to you now.

Upon the end of the 2021-22 school year, some changes were announced for Saint Paul’s next year. This included the “retirement” of Principal Trevor Watkins. However, students and faculty of Saint Paul’s know this is not just any retirement. Some close to the situation have even called it a forcible removal.

Saint Paul’s Sophomore Tim Lincoln was getting a note to check out from Mrs. Suzy when he “saw Mr. Watkins getting forcefully dragged out of his office kicking and screaming, and he was yelling ‘You can’t get rid of me! This school is doomed without me!’”

When Brother Ray went on Wolf TV to announce the retirement of Mr. Watkins, the signal seemed to get hacked, and Mr. Watkins surprisingly appeared on the screen. Mr. Watkins started reading out a list of all the changes he wanted to be made to Saint Paul’s in his last executive order before being removed as principal. “Every student will wear dress uniforms every school day next year; the only shoes allowed by uniform will be black dress shoes, and they will be checked for shininess daily!”

One student described the ordeal as “the ravings of a madman.” The student wishes to remain anonymous due to fear of retaliation from Mr. Watkins.

Eventually, the signal returned to Brother Ray. Once Brother Ray was back, he told the student body that Coach Dickens would be the new principal. Immediately, students rushed to the Wolf Dome and started dancing and partying as if they had just defeated the Sith. However, the celebrations were cut short when Coach Dickens used his booming voice to tell the students that much would stay the same for the foreseeable future. A loud groan from the students was followed by a slow, sulking walk back to their B-period classes.

As the Cry Wolf satire writer, I was rather disappointed in Mr. Watkins leaving because of the loss of comedic material. Previous Cry Wolf writer, Hyde Healy, showed me a secret closet where he kept his last-ditch ideas for articles. The entire closet was filled with notecards and threads that looked like a police investigation. I marveled at the scale of the board until I noticed that all the cards on the board were identical, written in a hurried, messy font: “TREVOR WATKINS.” “TREVOR WATKINS.” “TREVOR WATKINS.” I suppose I will have to come up with new material.