Patrons of the most new, most popular and most non-legally-infringing restaurant on campus, Crispotle, have discovered a surprise of dubious welcomeness in their food’s meat this past week. A surprise of dubious welcomeness, but considerable in-a-state-of-advanced-decomposition-ness.
We caught up with one of the affected, Fred Abaddon. “I went in to check out the new Crispotle, right? I ordered a Smoked Brisket Burrito. I love those,” Abaddon said.
Matters went south from there. “I got the burrito real quick, which was nice, but when I bit in I could tell something was wrong. It was, like, crunchy, but also chewy, in all the wrong ways. I thought this only happened in Minecraft.”
Crispotle has a strong explanation for this. “Loosen up, guys!” said the general manager, Jim Bob Pestilence. “It’s Halloween!”
Pestilence contends that the rotting flesh in the tacos is in fact genuine zombie flesh, gathered in the interest of getting into the spooky month spirit. “We had our top marketers working on this for months!” Pestilence continued. “Picture this: The main boardroom over at corporate. The big guys on top want something really explosive. Something that really gets people going. Silence, until suddenly, one lone voice speaks up: ‘What about zombie meat?’ Thus a legend is born. You understand?”
Abaddon suspects more dastardly deeds are afoot. “There’s no way that’s actually zombie flesh,” he points out. “Zombies don’t even exist! They’re clearly trying to explain away some serious food safety violations. I’d sue myself if Allard Law would let me in this year.”
Crispotle strongly rejects insinuations that this is a cover-up for egregious health code violations.
“There are always some killjoys whenever you try anything new and interesting,” Pestilence said, “but come on! Stop trying to poke holes in everything! Just man up and eat the festering flesh! Opportunities like this don’t come around every day.”
At the suggestion that people might not wish to eat the festering flesh, undead or otherwise, Pestilence was dismissive. “Nobody respects craftsmanship anymore. You know, some good people died to get this rotting meat to you,” he said, shaking his head. He refused further comment on the procuration of the meat.
The new and unannounced menu has garnered a mixed reception.
“I just wanted my burrito bowl,” said Megan Meesick, a second-year microbiology student. “Instead I got an upset stomach and maybe now count as a cannibal. Shouldn’t they at least make you sign something before eating that?”
Pestilence is defiant in the face of backlash. “They wanted an explosive promotion, we delivered. And it should be real explosive, too! Ever see those videos of beached whales?”
The Ubyssey, gluttons for punishment that we are, took a walk down to the Crispotle and ordered a burrito. (Don’t say we never did anything for you.) The burrito we ordered was, as advertised, green and smelled like death. We concede it actually was kinda tasty, though. Who knew rotting flesh had such flavour?
Crispotle regional management has strenuously denied accounts of shapeless masses of putrid meat rising from patrons’ tacos, demanding brains.
Share this article
First online
