Toronto Metropolitan University's Independent Student Newspaper Since 1967

monster with the face of a woman towering over a building
All Editorial Fun & Satire

The fall of Negzilla

By affectedcommuters57

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and definitely not written by Negzilla. Any satire included is purely coincidental. 

An altercation with a 50-foot tall lizard-like creature on Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) campus left Negin Khodayari, The Eyeopener’s editor-in-chief (EIC), dead on April 12, 2024. 

The creature, which students have dubbed “Negzilla,” was reported to have emerged from the Student Campus Centre’s (SCC) catacombs at around 10:45 a.m., the same time Khodayari usually arrived at the office on production days.

Negzilla proceeded to wreak havoc on Gould Street, with some reports alleging she destroyed everything in her path, save for The Eye’s newsstands.

According to spectators, Khodayari was last seen alive by the publication’s masthead members, who were gathered in their office for production day.

The creature is reportedly linked to ancient Persian mythology. According to Sherwin Karimpoor, a second-year language and intercultural relations student, various items are needed to summon it. However, the items and who summoned the creature, which allegedly hadn’t been seen since 1967, have yet to be discovered. 

The Eye obtained surveillance footage with audio from the SCC and other nearby locations.

The footage shows Khodayari leaving The Eye office at approximately 10:11 a.m. She walked down the steps staring at the building’s ceiling, seemingly because she didn’t have her glasses on. Khodayari grabbed a stack of papers from The Eye’s newsstand before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Some masthead members recall hearing a triumphant roar coming from the office’s lounge area where a tantalizing 2024 Foosbowl rematch between sports editors Daniella Lopez and Ilyas Hussein was taking place. “Super slay!” screamed Lopez as she took the lead over her fellow editor in a historic comeback. 

“Hey Negin,” Hussein recalls calling out and pointing to Khodayari as she was leaving the office. “Arrive alive!” Little did anyone know that she wouldn’t.

Her absence went unnoticed by business and technology editor Jake MacAndrew and news editor Anastasia Blosser, who were zeroed in on the week’s Jeopardy episode on Blosser’s laptop. “I had that!” MacAndrew yelled, brandishing his scribbled-on whiteboard. “Yeah, but I did a TEDxTalk,” Blosser quickly replied.

Online editor Shaki Sutharsan recalls looking up from her office crochet project briefly, noting the EIC office was empty. “Where’s Negin?” she asked, glancing over at fellow online editor Madeline Liao, who was busy crocheting a scarf for her beloved e-scooter, “scoot-scoot.”

“Bathroom, I think,” Liao said after quickly glancing up at the office. 

“Oh,” Sutharsan shrugged, looking down at her scarf. “I miss Jungkook,” she sighed forlornly. 

Just then, a loud slurping noise erupted from a corner of the office. Communities editor Bana Yirgalem sat with a Tim Hortons croissant in one hand and her phone in the other, cackling at the latest comments under a TikTok edit of Jack Harlow.

“You have free will, but you choose to do this,” commented arts and culture editor Caelan Monkman 

Yirgalem immediately brandished her mighty croissant. “AS THE COMMUNITIES EDITOR—” 

“Don’t finish that thought. In fact, leave,” Monkman interrupted before she could finish. Yirgalem did not, in fact, leave.

Meanwhile, media editor Konnor Killoran—who had been listening to Chief Keef’s latest album in his AirPods—glanced at the TV propped up in one corner of the office, which only ever showed CP24. The last thing the cameras saw before the entire screen went dark was a huge, clawed hand.

“Guys, this is happening on campus right now,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Not to worry, I’m chainsaw certified.”

Everyone in the office watched with wide eyes as Negzilla tore a tree out of the ground and tossed it toward the third floor of the SCC. Back outside, two familiar faces came into view, lugging a worn mattress on their backs. 

Photo editor Brithi Sehra and features editor Kinza Zafar stopped in their tracks, staring up at the looming figure before them. Quickly exchanging glances, the two hefted the bedbug-infested mattress up on their backs before launching it at Negzilla. 

Later reports suggested Negzilla roared something that sounded suspiciously like “IT’S JUST ME, HOMIES” in response, but Sehra and Zafar had already made it halfway across campus, spurred by pure fear. 

woman wearing sunglasses photoshopped over the burning house meme

The rest of the masthead rushed out of the building less than a minute later, almost as fast as they do when drafts appear for copy edits in their “#draft-ready-2-look-at” Slack channel. “I shall looketh!” they screamed as they raced down the stairs.  

There, they found photo editors Sammy Kogan and Jerry Zhang blinking up at Negzilla in complete bewilderment—Through the lenses of their cameras, of course. 

“I thought I was hallucinating this whole thing at first,” Zhang said, who hadn’t slept in over 36 hours. 

“Layers,” Kogan said, astonished at the sight of the monster. “So many layers.”

Adorned in a crocheted Froggie beanie, media editor Vanessa Kauk got out of her car parked by the curb and immediately began to set up umbrella studio lights to capture Negzilla in the best lighting.

“This would make for great content,” Killoran said, pulling out equipment worth thousands of dollars. “Have to make sure to shoot it in 4K, though.”

News editor Dexter LeRuez made his way over to the group, having hurried over from the Mattamy Athletic Centre following the commotion. He shifted one side of his headphones to the side, gawking up at Negzilla. 

“Um, guys? Are we going to do something about that?”

Just then, like the bright light at the end of the tunnel, fun and satire editor Joshua Chang emerged from the rubbles of campus, dragging a familiar blue wagon behind him. 

“It’s Negin. We have to save her,” he said, hobbling aside to reveal stacks upon stacks of The Women Issue inside Smalls the Wagon. “We have to remind her who she really is, deep down inside.”

Each member of The Eye’s masthead picked up a stack of the issue and started flinging the papers at Negzilla—except Hussein, who had sprained his finger playing baseball without a glove with Kauk a few days prior. 

“I don’t make the rules. I’m just happy to be here,” he shrugged as he watched the action.

Chang brandished a proton blaster created from The Eye’s megaphone, packed with the issue and free from any cross-contamination of his long laundry list of allergies before he began hurtling them toward the now-wailing creature. 


“WASH YOUR DISHES!” Negzilla squealed toward the group below her in return. 

All of a sudden, Negzilla vanished in a giant cloud of bright green smoke. When it cleared, the masthead members stepped forward, full of caution. Their EIC was lying on the ground, skin covered in scales. 

But they were too late. Khodayari was taking her last breath. 

“Peace out, homies,” she croaked as her final words before slumping forward. “You’ve been good to me.”

Chang knelt by her head to close her eyes. 

“It’s okay, Negin. You can rest now. You finished your story,” he whispered sadly. 

kermit meme with words photoshopped on it

The funeral was held later that same day at W Burger Bar, which is reportedly The Eye’s go-to dinner spot for all occasions—devastating or otherwise. 

Former arts and culture editor Danielle Reid munched on an eclipse-sized bowl of nachos with 14B scrawled on the back of her hand as she sat amongst the grieving masthead. 

“I’m vibing,” she said. “Terribly sad about Negin though, of course. She was a slay boss.”

“How is this going to affect commuters?” Monkman pondered loudly. 

Just then, news editor Gabriela Silva Ponte raised her hand and flailed it around in the air, waiting to be picked so she could speak yet again.

“We had some good memories at NASH in Edmonton,” Silva Ponte reminisced.

“I want to make a toast,” Yirgalem announced, lifting up her Long Island iced tea. “To my Comms Mother—no one else could’ve done this job better than you. We’ll miss you.”

“To Negin!” shouted the rest of the masthead as they raised their glasses in memory of their fallen leader. 

Through the newly introduced TMU Lights program, campus lights will be lit in green, a colour commonly associated with Khodayari, pending 30-day approval.

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