Roasting Forrest Zeng

By SHAY  KASHIF ’26, ALEX LIM ‘27, and GRACE YANG ‘27 

“Help me” is something I think to myself often. It’s what I think to myself as the Assembly speaker’s words scramble in and out of my ears, it’s what I think to myself when my head droops down from fatigue for the 17th time, and it’s what I think to myself as I count the seconds till 10:40, when I can free my shoulders from being pinned against overcrowded benches, and when I can finally stop my stomach from grumbling obnoxiously. 

But just as the holy, sacred, words “Senior class” are milliseconds from slipping from the speaker’s lips, I see an Asian boy with a bowl cut stand up, hand in the air, from the corner of my eye. 

As soon as he begins to speak, I am suddenly transported into a lecture hall on philosophy that I didn’t sign up for. I am forced to stay glued to the bench and tortured by the sounds of my stomach grumbling—which is so empty that I feel the acid burning through my body. My head spins in and out of consciousness, my mind simultaneously falling asleep and screaming internally. And as I am hanging on for dear life, heartbeat in my ears, the speaker says, “What is your name?” and as this kid—fully dripped out in Certamen swag—replies, “Forrest Zeng.” 

I pass out right there on the assembly hall bench. 

Whether it be the monumental amount of time he spends thanking assembly speakers, his uncanny ability to turn any lighthearted conversation into an existentialist debate, or his outfits straight out of Dead Poets Society, Forrest Zeng is certainly a character at Exeter. Not a single Exonian can even hope to escape his Latin-laden rants and musings. When he isn’t busy being a devil’s advocate, Forrest can be found in the corner of Elm Street Dining Hall watching extremely unrealistic depictions of SWAT teams or playing Blackhawk Rescue Mission 5 on ROBLOX. And no—no matter how much he begs—I will not play ROBLOX games with him.