I have waited a long time to post this one. After Amy-Ruth's wedding, another Ole, Kristie, and I decided that our time with Amy-Ruth was not as long as we wanted it to be.  We also discovered - after swapping photos in the early hours of the morning after the reception - that what was a wedding on March 31st had just become a wedding night on April Fool's Day.  This was an event that we could not pass up.

At first, we heard a rumour that the newly minted couple were actually staying in the same hotel, but after a long time of searching for their car in the parking lot, we talked the receptionist into telling us that they had actually checked out that day (good thinking!).  

Then I remembered that Amy-Ruth and Jason had kindly provided all of the guests with their new address on the back of the wedding programmes, and that their house happened to be a mere 10 minute drive away.  Vacating the hotel premises (an event spurred on at least a little by the arrival of a security guard, no doubt do to our giggles and suspicious walk through the parking lot looking at every license plate), we found said house, and though not certain it was indeed the happy couple's, we nevertheless set to work.  The windows steamed as we chuckled to ourselves composing a letter and trying to avoid looks from the passing police cars.

And now, a little background is in order.  Amy-Ruth, Kristie, and I all lived in Mellby Hall at St. Olaf one year.  In an unfortunate event, Amy-Ruth went to collect her laundry one day, and the whole lot seemed to have gone missing.  This load, moreover, contained all of her bras.  In a petition to the hearts and minds of all students, Amy-Ruth wrote a very long, loving, but insistent note and posted it all over the Hall.  The gist of the note was that, if the person who took the bras really desperately needed them and couldn't afford their own, then she was happy to give them away; otherwise, they had better return them ASAP because there was one very unhappy camper on the second floor.  They never returned.

This story provided all the fodder we needed to drum up just what exactly had happened to those bras.  And in a humour that I suspect only those who are Oles will truly appreciate, the result was our Nefarious Letter.  Click the image above to (re)live the moment.