Help! My Cafeteria Is Being Run By Bolsheviks!
By Michael Lawrence
Before you start reading this essay, I think the proper thing to do is
introduce myself. Hello, my name is Michael Lawrence. I am the author
of this essay meaning that I have actually written it. Michael Lawrence
is my real name, my pen name is Julius Haafaak and my pseudonym is Hans
Jorjirvuk. I am a college freshman attending Kansas State University in
Manhattan, Kansas in the United States of America, which is a town
whose nickname is "The Little Apple." The reason the residents of this
town chose this nickname is not because it gets so little precipitation
that the only apples that can be grown here are very tiny. In fact, the
reason Manhattan, Kansas is called "The Little Apple" is because it
shares its name with a legendary city somewhere out east whose nickname
is "The Big Apple." Even though the legendary city I'm talking about is
actually called "New York," there is a district within that city called
"Manhattan," thus making this little town in Kansas believe that it has
the right to call itself "The Little Apple." (Unfortunately, most of
its residence don't believe Manhattan, New York actually exists and
those who do think it's located somewhere in Kansas City, Missouri,
another place where nobody living here has actually been before, but
they have talked to telemarketers who have claimed to.)
However, as you can plainly see from the title "Help! My Cafeteria Is
Being Run By Bolsheviks!" this essay should involve a cafeteria and
Bolsheviks. If you have been reading this essay, you have probably
figured out that I haven't yet mentioned a cafeteria and I certainly
haven't touched the subject of Bolsheviks. All I have talked about so
far is about this little town that I live in located in central Kansas
(that large rectangular-ish body of water located in the center of the
USA.) Therefore, I obviously haven't started writing the actual theme
of this essay yet, so if you want to, you can skip the entire first
paragraph.
On with the third paragraph: (you can probably skip the second
paragraph too, if you don't think you need it.) I am actually sitting
in my chair at my computer writing this essay because I feel like
griping about the way my cafeteria is run at Kansas State University,
in Manhattan, in Kansas, in a lake, in the United States of America, on
the Planet Earth, in the Milky Way Galax?
I'm sorry about that, I can get carried away sometimes. Where was I? Oh
yeah, on with the fourth paragraph: my monthly housing and dining
services bill comes to $485 a month which roughly translates to $5.39
per day (which honestly, isn't a bad price at all.) I'm assuming that
about 95% of this actually goes to the cafeteria considering the
residence halls were likely completely paid for by 1962 and the
electricity appears to be powered by a million little hamsters running
on a million little wheels somewhere below the basement. So, I'm
concluding that $5.12 per day ($1.71 per meal) is going to the
cafeteria.
Getting on track again with the fifth paragraph, I would like to
mention that in the United States of America, it is against the law to
be Communist. Oh, there are people here who claim to be Communists, but
they aren't really. They're only saying that to get Congressional
attention from Paul McCartney. Well, somewhere in outer space, there is
a satellite. This satellite's sole purpose is to scan the entire US.
When it is finished scanning, the information is beamed to Seattle,
Washington (hence the name) where an outline of the United States is
projected onto a very large screen with red dots scattered about.
Select members of the C.I.A., F.B.I., and B.F.I. observe these red dots
(which represents a person who has become infected with the Communist
epidemic) and call, depending on the location, either the S.W.A.T. Team
(East Coast), the N.Y.P.D (West Coast), or the Ghostbusters (Mid West)
who will arrest these individuals and put them under quarantine. And
guess where they are usually put under quarantine. University
cafeterias.
To get to where I'm actually getting at in this seemingly pointless
essay, I would like to tell you a little story. No! Don't leave! It's a
short story! You have made it all the way to the sixth paragraph and I
promise that this whole thing is almost over with. Ok, now for the
story. One day I was eating breakfast. I guess that's not too unusual
since most people eat breakfast everyday and that day was probably no
exception. Well, all I had that morning was a glass of orange juice and
a bowl of Cheerios (which, incidentally, is supplied to the cafeteria
by the General Mills Corporation for no cost knowing that during
college, we will all build up a dependency on Cheerios that will last
for the rest of our lives.) Anyway, I was eating those Cheerios and I
look to my left and who do I find? You probably don't know him, his
name is Butch. Butch is a very large fellow; his forearms are as thick
as a lamppost and his fingers are as thick as my forearms (combined.)
And what he was eating was FIVE bowls of Cheerios, FIVE glasses of
orange juice, PLUS two dozen doughnuts, twelve scrambled eggs, about a
pound of hash browned potatoes, an entire moose, 40 feet of sausage
links, among other things. Then, to make it worse, Butch's friends,
Mud, Animal, Gut, and Copernicus, who are relatively the same size as
Butch, came to the very same table (Gut almost sat on me) individually
with almost the EXACT same meal as Butch. I calmly think to myself
"Geez, what a bunch of pigs," but then I thought further? (this
paragraph has been a little lengthy, so I think I'll start anew.)
"Wait a second!" I thought. "We're paying the EXACT same amount for our
meals! I'm paying $1.71 for this bowl of Cheerios, and Butch over there
is paying the exact same amount ($1.71) for his mass quantity of
Cheerios, orange juice, doughnuts, eggs, hash browns, sausage, moose,
etc. Is this right?" (sorry for the short paragraph.)
Even though I am allowed to eat whatever I want in the Kansas State
University cafeterias, facts are facts! I, and a lot of other students,
are paying for Butch's and his friends' meals. This sounds a lot like
Communism to me! I propose that the Kansas State University Housing and
Dining Services adopts a payment plan where students pay for their
meals in proportion with the size of their forearms. This way, people
who don't like eating 54 lbs. of food per day don't have to pay for the
people who do. Do it for the students and do it because it is the
American way. (This is the last paragraph of the essay, you don't have
to read anything below this.)
When The United States of America was founded in 1776, after George
Washington Carver defeated the British Troops with his army of peanut
butter (I'm serious, you can stop reading now) at the Battle of Skippy
Mountain in Manhattan, New York or Kansas, George Washington Carver
said "Thy country iseth dammed if it commeth toward Communism." (This
is not historically accurate, so you'd better stop reading this) The
British general, General Cornball, overheard this and said, "I shalt
spend the rest of the dammeth days of mine where I shall buildeth a
creator of cinema somewhereth in California in the Southeth of
Westeth." General (Am I going to have to come over there? Will you stop
reading this goop?) Washington Carver overheard this hostile comment on
this historic day and (Hey I heard that! For your information, I didn't
write this!) interrupted. "Whereth iseth this California of the
Southeth of Westeth?" General Cornball responded, "Thateth for me to
knoweth and for you to find outeth. (No, I didn't write it! It was
written by a crazy nutball named Hans Jorjirvuk) In this creator of
cinema, I shalt create a portrait that moveths on the commandeth of
mine. I shall corrupteth the people of anew and they shall thinketh
that iteth of the goodwill to geteth a bazooka and beateth the
excrement of mongrels outeth others." (No! He PAID me to put this in!)
On that historic day, arose an American hero, who most of you probably
know to be Charlton Heston. "Blasphemy!" he yelled (Now hey! Have you
forgotten? I told you to quit reading this paragraph! Get on with your
life, you have better things to do) "Don't you know how a bazooka is to
be used! You don't beat the living excrement of mongrels out of your
victims! You shoot the living tar out of 'em! Hah hah hah hah hah hah!"
General Cornball returned, "Aha, interestingeth concepteth, (Okay, that
does it! I'm about to come over there and MAKE you stop reading this
paragraph!) The America of the Uniteth Stateth will surely perish under
the peril of Communithem now." The heroic Charlton Heston yelled in
anger, "Now I have been many people in my day! (I'm warning you!) I've
been a Roman Slave, Moses, an ape smooching son of a gun, a gun loving
son of a gun, I was even a Spanish guy who I have forgotten the name
of, but a damn Red Commie helper I am not. (Congratulations, you made
it to the bottom of this paragraph, call 1-800-BOB-DOPE, to pick up
your free automobile courtesy of The General Mills Corporation. Thank
you for your participation in helping create a healthier Planet.) Die
by the hand of my fierce bazooka, Commie!" Cornball replied, "Doh!"
