BOULDER, Colo. (TN) – After eighteen months of scaffolding that seemed more permanent than the Flatirons, CU Boulder announced the Helms Building is nearly complete. But offices for English and Linguistics won’t be assigned by committee. They shall be won in combat.
Sixteen faculty enter, four window offices leave. The Helms Games will take place on Folsom Field, and see competitors armed only with “Office materials already in possession”: staplers, Expo markers, and in one case, an overhead projector converted into a war mace.
“We felt ritualized combat was more efficient than a lottery,” said administrator Bobby Balke, adjusting a hard hat he refused to remove after the last training drill. “Besides, it saves on paperwork, and no one ever reads HR memos anyway.”
Referees will push walls tighter around the fight zone until all that remains is the final remaining combatant face-to-face with the bottomless pit that’s been dug into the center of Folsom Field. The winner will dropkick the final student or professor through the opening and then have their choice of office.
Professor Nicole Wright has been spotted “training” by smashing a first-edition copy of American Psycho into a podium until it splintered. “If it worked for John Wick, it’ll work for me,” she said, tucking the blood-red dust jacket back into her satchel.
Professor Stephen Graham Jones was unfazed, retrieving a murder weapon from his bookshelf. “I’ve killed off hundreds of characters in my novels,” he said, casually sharpening a large Buck knife, sitting next to a scream mask. “A few colleagues won’t keep me up at night.”
Professor Elizabeth Hurley, polishing the tips of her walker, announced she would “dominate the linguists” and then paused to ask, “Wait… is this single-elimination or double-elimination?”
Professor Karim Mattar, assigned as a wild card, was less enthusiastic. “This isn’t fair,” he whined, clutching a broken whiteboard marker. “I specifically asked for an exemption. I have office hours that week. And allergies. Also, I pulled something while carrying my laptop.”
Balke responded by handing him a three-hole punch and saying, “Good luck, champ.”
Students will be released into the arena as live obstacles. Some were reluctant initially until CU made participation mandatory for graduation last week.
“It’s surreal being hunted by your professor,” said sophomore Kevin Lopez, who planned to survive by hiding under a pile of MLA handbooks. “Still less stressful than finals week.”
Cheerleaders will lead chants like “Fight! Cite! Don’t Plagiarize!” while Ralphie makes a ceremonial lap before trampling whichever TA hesitates first.
The Games will conclude with one professor standing, one student limping, and one symbolic drop-kick. The champion must declare “THIS. IS. HELMS!” before booting the final student into the “The Bottomless Pit.”
CU has already sold out the event, with ESPN releasing official betting odds. Linguists are 5-to-1 underdogs, with analysts citing weak upper-body strength but strong trash-talk potential. English professors, Jones in particular, are favored at 2-to-1. Gamblers warn that their tendency to overanalyze mid-fight could prove fatal. Side bets include “first professor to cry” and “adjuncts making it past round one.”
“It’s experiential learning,” said HR rep Dale Redding. “Everyone signed waivers, so legally speaking, we’re golden. May the odds be ever in your department’s favor.”
