’m willing to bet that no college in the country is able to serve five-star cuisine to its students or even four-star cuisine, for that matter. Around the nation, the same old jokes float around like the aroma of soggy french fries under a heat lamp.
“Watch out for the freshmen 15.” “Enjoy the good meals at home while you can.” The list goes on and on.
Most people just grin and bear it, chowing down on cafeteria food in order to save a few bucks and sustain their own life, instead of fuckin’ starving out. In all seriousness, the majority of our student body actually enjoys and appreciates our cafeteria.
However, there are some that do not. We received shocking reports of an event that occurred the week before Spring Break.
Tensions were high, midterms were raging, and students could not wait to get home. In the cafeteria, four freshmen, who wish to remain anonymous, sat down to eat. They all quietly enjoyed their food, waiting for their friend to come and join them.
He was spotted scanning in his ID card, and slowly walking over to the main line, surveying what was in store that day.
Even from across the caf, his friends could see the light leave his eyes in sheer disappointment. They all audibly sighed in dismay for him, and watched in hope that he could find something to eat. He wandered around the room, looking for something to fit his appetite, but he could not find it. ‘Twas of no avail.
Straight-faced, keeping his composure, he took a piece of grilled chicken—a single piece—and placed it on his plate to take back to his people. Upon sitting down, he still remained completely stone-cold. They greeted him, and he responded with a slow, soulless gaze. The blacks of his eyes were holes into some kind of abyss—void of sunlight.
Abruptly, he gripped the chicken in his hand and asked his friends to “excuse him.” They were stunned, knowing that something broke inside him. Something snapped. A primordial aura radiated out of their former pal.
In one fluid motion, he dropped the chicken on the floor, curb stomped it, and took a hearty bite of the nearby wall. It was like a lion ripping a piece of flesh from its prey, the way he tore into it with absolute cruelty and power. He stood there, chewing momentarily, gutturally moaning with success. His friends were both shocked and impressed by this feat of anger. Many tables of bystanders saw the chunk get bitten out, but no one made a sound in fear of getting their face bitten off.
His friends immediately left the table and came to the Stentor with the story. They had always known him to be a gentle, easy-going guy. But when you are sick of food, sometimes you will resort to animalistic tendencies.
