We all got the cheese
By biconews On 29 Feb, 2000 At 05:00 AM | Categorized As Archives | With 0 Comments

By Promise Partner
Guest Columnist

I awoke to the mid-winter sunshine streaming through my windows. Usually I sleep with the shades drawn, afraid of unknown shadows lurking in the darkness of Rhoads beach, but I had left them up the night before to try something different. After all, it was Hell Week, that illusive Bryn Mawr tradition where the whole campus unites to torture the frosh. I figured since it was being forced upon me anyway, I might as well do it all.

Excitedly I opened my closet and pulled out the outfit I had carefully assembled the previous night: collared white shirt, blue tie, black pants, black coat, men’s dress shoes, a set of ears, and a tail. Yes, I am a woman. No, I am not a rodent. But my hellers (I love you, Sarah and Shera!) had graciously assigned me the title of “Poppa Mouse” for the first day of what I expected to be a long, hard week. I had stayed up late into the night constructing my accessories from cardboard, the omnipotent duct tape, and an old black tee shirt that I hadn’t worn since seventh grade. It was now time to go to work.

Patches of bright green grass peered out at me from underneath the drifts of melting snow outside. I paraded along the sidewalk, confident in my unusual apparel. The mud lining the streets, brown and gooey with sunshine, looked so inviting that I stopped and took off my shoes. The lovely goop squished between my bare toes and I swung my empty shoes in my hand. Though faithfully following my hellers’ orders to be Poppa Mouse, I couldn’t resist acting as the adamant environmentalist of my usual character. I began to pick up the carelessly scattered scraps of garbage as my black tee shirt tail swung behind me in the wind.

When I reached a garbage can, I decided to share my wealth with the real mice that I presumed lived in the depths of the bin. I emptied my loot from the pockets of my mouse coat, taking note of each piece of paper or bottle I had picked up. Then I saw it! Right there in my palm/paw lay the ultimate treasure: an empty box of Kraft Mac and Cheese. The orange elbows adorned the front of the blue box in a beautiful gelatinous blob. I gave a squeak of mouse delight. I had found the cheese!

I immediately began offering the precious box to all humans who passed my way. Yet to my horror, no one took me up on my offer. How could they not see the beauty within the six walls of the blue box? Did they prefer Velveeta? Or maybe they favored parmesan over cheddar. After a few hours of futile cheese proffering, yet another revelation: Everyone already had the cheese! Though they may not have possessed my divine box of Kraft, I knew without a doubt that somewhere within the pockets and folds of their coats or

tucked inside their bags and backpacks, every member of the world, even the vegans, had the cheese.

Maybe one day we can all create enough lasagna to stretch down Lancaster or an acre-sized pizza to cover Founders. But I’m currently satisfied with my lone blue and orange container, occasionally mixed with the Colby Jack of my roommate or the muenster of my mother or the brie of the lacrosse team.

The heavenly Mac&Cheese box now lies at the bottom of the recycling bin outside of Rhoads and I have assumed my normal role, substituting my tail and ears for a wool sweater and hiking boots. But before the mouse within me departs for good, you must promise to remember one thing: You have the cheese. Pass it on.

Promise Partner is a member of the class of 2003.

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