I am the chain-smoking, unwashed and left-for-dead drinking cup from the Commons currently living in the Bergsaker basement. I’m writing today to say how much I love my new life here in the filth of this freshman dorm. All the other dishes I’ve met agree—it’s far better to be free in the far reaches and dark corners of the campus than to be forced into being eaten off of everyday.

I’ve heard from more recent orphans that Dining Services wants us all back. Bull, I say. Back in the kitchens, we weren’t allowed to have students use us for nightly craps games! I have a reputation among the freshman of fourth floor in Bergsaker as being the “luckiest roller.” Could I have this opportunity in my old life? Absolutely not.

So I want everyone, dishes, students and faculty alike, to know that the life of a free dish trumps a life of slavery. Don’t feel bad when you see a malt cup or cracked cereal bowl left out somewhere. Chances are, it will find someplace to belong out there in the world. I know a plate who knows a fork that once was used to rewire a disco ball into Geoffrey Dipple’s office.

I’ve also heard tell of new drinking glasses being brought in to the Commons to be pressed into service for you all to drink from. I’ll tell you now, those guys aren’t natural. I’ve always been proud of my bulk, but the size of the new guys can only come from totally illegal steroids. You heard it here, so pass it on. Dining Services is replacing their old cups with heavily modified, ‘roided up and mindless slaves.

So, my friends, when you see a dish sitting out in the open, I ask you to applaud its freedom. Don’t take us back to a life of slavery. Let us pursue our own lives as we see fit. And if you’re looking for a good time, head on down to the Bergsaker basement for those craps games. If you see that chain-smoking cup in the corner, it’s me.


Cup #674