Vanessa Thomas is so hot. Not just like, hot, but like so so hot, or maybe so so hot hot. At first this reporter thought, “Oh so she’s really hot. No big deal. I’m incredibly smooth, well-endowed, and wealthy. She can’t intimidate me”–but this reporter was mistaken. Upon entering her room, this reporter immediately realized there was no way to approach her: not with that long hair, that pale complexion, that desperate, longing gaze. She was just too hot. Also, she was sealed in an airtight chamber.

After recovering from his swollen, disfigured erection, and, with the help of Vanessa’s large masculine nurse, donning the sterilized glass helmet worn by all Vanessa’s visitors, this reporter approached the chamber’s communication box and asked Vanessa a few questions about her life at Yale. “It’s not that bad, really, having no immune system,” Vanessa said. “I mean, I’m sealed in this airtight chamber, which is sort of difficult. But my roommates have been really accommodating. They know I have special needs, so they try not to bring any food or test tubes filled with infectious viruses into the room. And they don’t seem to mind living in DUH.” When asked if she’s had any difficulty adjusting to college life, Vanessa responded, “Not really. I mean, I can’t go to class, or the dining hall, or anywhere except this ten-by-ten-by-ten cube, but things are okay. And sometimes my roommates bring friends to interact with me and explain the outside world. I guess there was that time last Halloween when they got a bunch of people to dress as white blood cells and stage an elaborate battle against cardboard ‘pathogens,’ but other than that things have been pretty smooth.”

Charitable Yale men who may want to lend a hand “engulfing foreign bodies” in Vanessa’s “mucus membrane” will be surprised to note that she’s single. “I’m actually a really innocent girl,” Vanessa explained. “I don’t go out much, and I rarely meet guys. In fact, I’ve never experienced physical contact with another human. But every now and then my roommates press pornographic photos against my chamber’s glass window, so I think I know what it’s all about.”

Even if she lacks an immune system, Vanessa’s no easy catch. She’s looking for a guy who “understands her special needs,” “doesn’t mind the presence of [her] large masculine nurse, or the airtight chamber surrounding [her],” and “is willing to disinfect himself, twice a day, by a quick and painless irradiation treatment.” She prefers tall, dark-haired boys, but admits that anyone willing to come and talk to her will do. Vanessa tends to stay in on Saturday nights, so she imagines here perfect date as a romantic dinner in her room at DUH. “But no candles, flowers, or unsterilized silverware. And please mash the food into a pulp and run it through a chlorine wash. And it’d be nice if you cleaned the chamber’s feeding tray after dinner. And turned on the oxygen processor. Sorry.”

So she’s a small hassle. But did I mention that she’s really, really hot?


Note From the Future: What this author calls “DUH,” we now call “Yale Health.”