Food Court. LITERALLY
The food court on campus is a great place to get some kai and caffeine up in ya, but you better believe there’s more happening behind the scenes. Let me break down the etymology of the term ‘Food’ ‘Court’ for you. ‘Food’ is defined as something that is edible. Y’know, like chips or most species of reptile. The term ‘court’ basically means a big fuckin room pretty much, so it wouldn’t be TOO silly of one to assume that a ‘Food’ ‘Court’ would be a big fuckin room that is edible. This is my hypothesis.
GATHERING INFORMATION:
As not to arouse suspicion from the employees of the food court, I hung around outside to collect intel on the court’s interior. I asked a couple patrons of the court their knowledge of it’s inner workings. These were their responses.
“What?”
“Fuck off!”
“Why are you sweating so much?”
“Jesus Christ, could you put on some shoes?”
“You’re under arrest for public indecency, those dogs are unforgivable.”
“Sir, put down the knife.”
“Put your hands up right now or I will shoot!”
“Shit, is he dead?”
“Check his pulse.”
“OH FUCK HE WAS FAKING IT”
“Your helicopter escort is here, please just let the hostage go.”
“What are you talking about? A food court is a court where you buy food, not a court made out of food! IDIOT!”
Results: inconclusive.
EXPERIMENT:
The plan is thus. I shall break into the food court in the dead of night, and test for myself if the court is truly food. If this goes right, I will finally prove to everyone that I’m not a silly billy, and I am in fact a Serious William. If I don’t come back, tell that McDonald’s worker that he won the bet and he gets to keep my shoes.
RESULTS:
The food is edible. The court is… ALSO EDIBLE! HAHA!
I ate a chair
