Morrison Dining to Accept Recited Plot Summary of Beloved As Alternative to Meal Swipe

MORRISON HALL––Following the launch of North Campus’s Morrison Dining Hall this January, Student & Campus Life has announced a new substitute for meal swipes: students can now access the state-of-the-art dining facility by narrating the entire plot of Toni Morrison’s novel, Beloved.

Within days of the announcement, every copy of Beloved was checked out of libraries all across campus. Due to a sudden surge in demand for the book, library staff have reported an estimated wait time of 50 weeks to obtain a copy.

The new policy has proved to be an exciting opportunity for book lovers to demonstrate their passion for literature. One English professor explained, “I made the 45 minute trek to North Campus today just to discuss the significance of the milk scene. I had already eaten lunch, but couldn’t resist a good chance to stop by and spread some knowledge.”

Several STEM majors have expressed their frustration with the new practice. “I wish it could have just been named Nye Dining instead,” physics major Hailey Godiner sighed. “I could sing the theme song from Bill Nye the Science Guy in my sleep.”

At press time, students were entering a mass panic as the Sparknotes website crashed from overuse.

Student Upset Cafeteria Worker Didn’t Return Apathetic Hello

RPCC — After waiting impatiently to be swiped in, Phoebe Adams, ‘20 was bothered when a local cafeteria worker didn’t return her bland, apathetic “Hello.”

“I went to get dinner just like I do every day and gave the person at the register my usual indifferent greeting. I thought they would appreciate that,” said Adams, who went on to angrily demand extra chicken wings from another dining staff member.

Adams believed that her monotone greeting warranted more than a simple smile and nod of acknowledgement.

“I even went as far as to ask them how they were. I didn’t want to hear any of it, but I thought it was courteous, yet I get nothing in return,” added Adams

Adams ended up eating alone in frustration, beleaguered by less-than-friendly service workers, and left without bussing her plate.

OP-ED: If You Die, What Happens To Your BRBs?

Hey friends. Just thought I’d check in because all week, there’s just been one, singular question on my mind. Seriously, this puppy’s been keeping me up all night. If you die, what happens to your BRBs?

Is it like a next-of-kin thing? Like a “oh hey, sorry your brother died, but at least you’re set on pasta bowls for life” kinda deal?  Or can you pick a person like a whole bequeathing “I’ve summoned you all here today with some bad news, who wants free sesame chicken for a semester” kinda joint? Sorry, I know it’s a trivial question, but I really wanna get to the bottom of this one.

I mean, really, if your BRBs go nowhere after you die, that’s just good money being left on the table. At least send it to, like, students in need or something? Or maybe it could be like a raffle, sort of a “millionth person who gets a salad at Trillium’s wins all of this dead student’s BRBs” kinda deal. Or you could wait for them to build up and give everyone free lunch on the last day of classes like a “hey, it’s the last day of fifth grade so we’re having a school wide pizza party even though it’s being funded by dead people’s money” kinda deal?

Or, and now hear me out on this one, is it like a “Hunger Games-style people fight to the death over the remaining pool of dead people’s BRBs and then pool also gets larger when people die in the Hunger Games because those are dead students too” kinda situation, or more of a “we put numbers on a bunch of turtles and people choose turtles and whoever’s turtle wins gets all this dead kids food money to spend at Mattin’s on deflated quesadillas” sort of competition?

Anyways, I’d appreciate a swift reply on this one, not like a “oh, great question but I have nothing to add to the discussion” sort of reply, but more of an “I’m an ‘in-the-know’ kind of person” that can provide an “I’ve got some knowledge for you” kind of response.

Romantic Evening Ruined by RPCC Closing at 9:00

ROBERT PURCELL MARKETPLACE EATERY – Following a wonderful, chemistry-filled conversation over Mongolian stir-fry and chicken bacon ranch pizza, the mood between Lance Becker ‘20 and Sarah Burr ‘20 was reportedly killed Tuesday night when the guy behind the pasta counter reminded them the dining hall would be closing at 9:00 p.m.

“Everything was going well until we were rudely interrupted. The lights weren’t too bright or too dim, the line for roast beef sushi was only five people long, and Lance was everything I imagined a man who takes me to a suave place like RPCC could be,” said Burr, who believed she never saw love until Becker volunteered a guest swipe to pay for her meal.

“We have standards at this fine establishment that is the Robert Purcell Marketplace Eatery. If I didn’t tell the two to leave, then all of the lovers on the Bear Traditional dining plan would talk late into the night, hours after closing,” said a student employee, jealous after her bad date Thursday at Appel.

Even after the disappointing end to their evening, Burr is reportedly considering asking Becker to join her next week at some place nicer, like Cook House on West Campus.