FEATURE: Meet Trapp McRobbie, Michael’s Shithead Son
by Robbie McMichael
Introducing Trapp McRobbie
“Winds in the East, mist coming in
like something is brewing and about to come in.
Can’t put me finger on what lies in store
but I fear what’s to happen all happened before.”
Have you noticed the distinct smell of burning rubber in the air? Or maybe a vague sense of unease and irritation? Then you have felt the presence of new student at Indiana University—Trapp McRobbie, the shitty delinquent son of President Michael McRobbie. Trapp has been away in a juvenile detention center in Tasmania for the past three years, but he has now arrived and is living in the Bryan House, one of the only mold-free residences on campus. Trapp is mostly harmless, but keep an eye out for him as he’ll be derailing a class discussion near you with his uncomfortable opinions on consent even though “this is a computer science class, Trapp.”
A word of warning though: do not, under any circumstances, give him your phone number. You might expect a “u up?” or “ru a virgen?” texts, but Trapp is more original than that; you will be inundated with request for attendance passphrases and notes on the lecture he missed because he was at Brothers on a Tuesday. Why Brothers? Well, he got banned from Kilroy’s his first week on campus. Way to go, Trapp!
As he is the human equivalent to a Bird scooter soaking in the Jordan River, we do not recommend inviting Trapp to hang out with you. He has been known to ruin the evening during the pregame by taking off his shirt, drinking 12 Bud Light Straw-ber-ritas, puking on the cat, and passing out in the Uber. Young McRobbie can be found dealing Adderall in the Bryan House amphitheater or riding his skateboard on the sidewalk. If you see Trapp, remember to approach with caution and don’t look him in the eyes. If he response aggressively, distract him by quoting Borat.