Photo from Pixabay / CC0
It started out so innocent, so innocuous.
There I was, in the VP basement toiling for hours, when I got up to replenish my strength with some coffee and a snack. My eyes had been scorched by the light of my computer screen, and Mark’s Café, with its dank, den-like aura, seemed to be the perfect nook in which to give them respite. I was walking up to the counter to order my coffee when I first saw it: the case that appeared to be my salvation, but ended up as my prison.
It was a cornucopia of nourishment. Pulsating display lights illuminated its salty and sweet delights, and I found myself drawn to it. Before I could register what was happening, I dropped to my knees as if the force of my stress-hunger became personified and shoved me to the ground. Voracious, wanting, needing, I plucked the case’s bounty from its cold belly with both hands, only stopping to toss my PennCard at the employee and grunt, “Bursar it.”Read the Full Article