A massive brawl erupted on Sept. 3 after a friendly conversation between first-year hall mates turned hostile. The former roommates, Ben Gineer ’20 and Art Vandelay ’20, met outside Bertrand Library to discuss their summer vacations and work on their homework together. However, things quickly went south once they started comparing their workloads.

“He just kept listing all of his MATLAB work and problem sets,” Vandelay said. “When I tried explaining how difficult it was to write my thirty-page rock opera, he just didn’t get it.”

“You can’t compare the two,” Gineer said. “I wasn’t trying to say that the Arts and Sciences don’t have it tough. It’s just a different kind of work.”

Before the friends could settle their differences, two large mobs of upperclassmen swarmed the scene. According to witnesses, the groups consisted predominantly of mechanical engineers and theatre majors, leading to an intense confrontation.

“It was a massacre,” a representative from Public Safety said. “CCTV footage shows that the theater kids were screaming passive-aggressive Hamilton quotes while the engineers started writing elaborate disses in Python and Java. The body count remains unknown.”

This public battle violates the 20-year peace treaty established after the last Great War between the College of Engineering and the College of Arts and Sciences. These accords were made possible by the brave sacrifice of a super senior who bridged the gap between the two armies and helped them find common ground.

“Only the triple-major, master of all three degrees could stop them,” Dr. Ava Tar, Associate Professor of History, said. “But when the University needed him most, he vanished.”

According to sources on both sides, a new war is inevitable, with preparations already being made by the leaders of both departments.

“I really think we’re blowing this out of proportion,” Gineer said as he put the finishing touches on the laser beam attachment to his rocket-powered mech suit. “We’re not so different from them, really.”

“He chose the wrong side,” Vandelay said, brandishing a sword made of pencils and a shield of unpublished manuscripts. “There’s only room for one college here. Ours.”