Dear readers, I come to you today with troubling news that will surely send shockwaves through the campus community. I hate to interrupt your morning coffee with such disquieting news, but some things are just too critical to delay. Late last night, our very own President Elizabeth Bradley was caught red-handed holding a clandestine meeting with members of Dining Services in a chamber under her house. What does this previously unknown chamber contain you ask? A shrimp farm of an unimaginable size that our very own PB is allegedly operating to rake in extra cash by cutting out the middleman of seafood.
This revelation comes after months of speculation regarding the sudden abundance of shrimp at all the dining centers across campus. This crustacean cascade has come in the form of creamy cajun shrimp bisque, shrimp pasta, shrimp scampi pizza, shrimp salads at Express, shrimp bowls at The Retreat and even in the form of surprise shrimp during Greek bowl week at Global Kitchen (with no seafood watch marking to accompany them, might I add). Where is the money coming from for all of this shrimp? Is it peak shrimp season or something? WHO IS EATING THE SHRIMP SCAMPI PIZZA??? It’s been all questions and no answers, but now? All of that has changed.
Vassar Dining’s recent shellfish surge has left many students wondering if there is anything fishy going on behind the scenes. One such student, Barnaby Barnacle ’25, told me, “Yeah, in my time at Vassar I’ve never seen such a prawn proliferation! I mean, I’m not complaining necessarily, but it did have me curious, where is all this shrimp coming from? I mean, what ever happened to good old Red and his catch of the day? I never could have imagined it was our own president running a shrimp empire LITERALLY underneath our noses.” What ever happened to Red indeed? Well, it appears he’s been shoved aside in favor of Bradley’s cost-cutting crustacean conspiracy.
According to a source deep within the institution who has elected to remain anonymous under the pseudonym Brohn Jadley, “The underground farm is equipped with state-of-the-art aquaculture technology. It has been meticulously concealed beneath the President’s House, shielded away from prying eyes and nosy reporters. The farm is only accessible via a trapdoor in the floor that has been hidden by a rug and employs retina scanning technology to allow my wi– I mean, Elizabeth—in.” Apparently, the operation has been so covertly managed that even the most astute observers with the most developed olfactory systems have failed to notice the occasional waft of brine or inexplicable presence of shrimp-themed decor in the president’s home. As you and I both know, these are the telltale signs of a secret underground shrimp farm.
When approached for comment, President Bradley neither confirmed nor denied the existence of her subterranean shrimp farm, maintaining a dignified silence on the matter. However, the rumor mill suggests that she is plotting a way to incorporate running her enterprise into the Vassar curriculum with a new interdisciplinary major in Marine Biology and Entrepreneurship. I was able to access some highly classified documents with plans for this new program. So far I can tell you the intro course is planned to be offered next spring with the title, “Underground Shrimp Farming for Profit and Profit.”
Immediate reactions have been mixed, with some members of the community applauding Bradley’s creative spirit, and others expressing concerns over the potential ethical and environmental implications of her oceanic operation. As someone with a deadly shellfish allergy, I am personally against the farm, but I appreciate the sentiment. I think perhaps she should consider farming something that will appeal to the wider community, like berries, or marijuana.
As the dust settles on this bewildering piece of news, one thing remains certain: The mystery behind Vassar’s sudden shrimp surplus has been cracked wide open. Students and faculty alike are sure to be reeling from the shocking truth lurking beneath the surface of our campus. I’m fingering the pulse of this story, and you can count on me to see it through to the end.