Obituary: Grandma Shubert of South Quadrangle
Known best for her mirthful spirit, joyous laughter, and trademark meatloaf served in South Quad cafeteria, Grandma Shubert passed away last week at the age of 78. Though no official report has been announced regarding her unfortunate demise, she presumably died from shame, as the quality of the meatloaf is so goddamn awful now.
In life, the delightful gray-haired beauty held her own “Grandma Shubert’s Meatloaf” up to the highest standards and would never have put her name on the fetid slabs of gristle that the dining hall now claims to be her entrée. In a now bygone time, her pleasant smell of flowers and fresh herbs wafted throughout the recesses of the dormitory cafeteria. Since the date of her speculated death – which must have occurred sometime before last Tuesday’s dinner – the cafeteria has smelled only of stale, fried catfish, and whatever else the soulless drones behind the counter decide to shlop onto students’ plates that day.
True chefs know that a little garnish goes a long way, as Grandma Shubert would kindly explain to the incompetent assholes making cafeteria food now. Large portions and extra gravy on top of the meatloaf cannot make up for the fact that underneath lies a lukewarm, unpalatable excuse for Tuesday night dinner.
This endearing matron, taken from us too soon, is survived by many students begrudgingly eating dorm meals they are now receiving from God only knows where – only God and, certainly Grandma Shubert, softly weeping somewhere from her quaint cottage home in heaven.
Originally published: November 2012