Maria’s Final Tuscan Chicken Sandwich Airlifted to Vatican for Enshrinement
Amidst a vast crowd of devoted friends, family and customers, Maria’s very last Eagle’s Nest creation was carefully lifted up from behind the counter, placed atop a golden palanquin, and carried off to the Papal helicopter surrounded by an honor guard of five hundred.
“It’s just so emotional,” sobbed Michael Rezzen (A&S ’18). “Maria always seemed too perfect to be real, a lunch-making guardian angel… like a mom, but without the emotional baggage. Now that she’s gone, there’s nothing but darkness on the Heights. Sweet Jesus, I’m so afraid.”
Rezzen stood in his usual spot halfway through the Eagle’s sandwich line, even though there was nobody in front of him. Lost and confused, he stared into space and wept like an infant. Hundreds of his fellow man staggered about the café in a daze, bumping into walls and gnawing on lifeless husks of bread and bird meat.
A lucky few followed the glowing aroma of the Final Tuscan Chicken out through the halls, where an elite Nun carefully applied the plastic wrap that would shield it on its long journey.
“Much as we hate to separate these young kids from their only reason to get up in the morning, it had to be done,” extolled Head of BC Dining Linda Frankhousen. “BC lacks the pure sacred energy needed to keep such a sandwich alive and strong. It needs to be preserved for posterity. Centuries from now, it will stand as immortal testament that once, BC meal prices truly were worth it.”
“I know exactly how the protesters feel. Hell, I’d kill any of you with my bare hands for just one more taste of a Maria Chicken Caesar wrap. But as John Lennon (probably) said; if you love something, let it go.”
Frankhousen turned to watch, stone-faced, as the Vatican airship flew away with its precious cargo. The mass protests on the Stokes lawn did nothing to halt the pilots, though it continued regardless; culminating with one senior nailing himself to a cross built from stale cheesesteak rolls.
As Maria’s last gift vanished into the blinding glare of the setting sun, it is said that every head on campus — from the mightiest Modlord to the puniest pre-med freshman — turned to watch it disappear. Soon after, the Theology department announced that the loss of Maria was irrefutable evidence that God is dead.