We all need food. Food keeps us alive and is the lifeblood of our existence. So brace yourself, as what I’m going to tell you will be a little shocking.

We’re running out of food.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Danny, there’s about a billion dining halls on this campus, along with Kimmel, and the floor nachos left behind at the Carrier Dome. What are you talking about?”

Believe me, I love floor nachos as much as anybody else, but they just can’t sustain you and me long enough to get through this winter. Food supply is running short and the dining halls won’t be able to keep our stomachs satisfied.

So the dining halls are out, which is why what I’m about to add is even more shocking than the first thing I said:

We have to return to our primal states and consume human flesh.

I know that last sentence is really alarming, but hear me out. Look at all the great citizens who have survived off of eating other humans: Hannibal Lecter, those Uruguayan soccer players, that guy on bath salts. The evidence is staggering.

This is a really scary time, so I have taken it upon myself to lead this new dystopian society. As First President of the Orange Coalition of the Willing, I have created a hierarchy of consumption — note to self: keep using fancy words, they’ll respect you more. It’s similar to the basic food pyramid, but instead of food groups, it’s different types of students on campus. Tomayto, tomahto.

First choice is the members of Student Association. Since nobody knows what they do or if they do anything in the first place, they will be the first casualties. Maybe they’re like God, omnipresent and all around us. I like to pretend sometimes that they meet in this secret lair underground that they decorate to look like the Fortress of Solitude, and instead of talking about issues, they play backgammon. A man can dream, I guess.

Second in line are the architects, because are we really sure the program even exists? Each one says they congregate in a place called “the studio,” but I’ve never seen anyone build a single building. And no, you can’t pull off that many consecutive all-nighters; it’s not humanly possible. Just admit to us what I know you really are: a secret midnight “Bob the Builder” fan club. On the off chance the studio is real, we can use the excess power tools to create the network of tree houses that this university sorely needs.

Last choice are the athletes. Sports can be an escape from everyday life and, with people eating other people, distractions will be needed. In fact, I am looking forward to breaking — or creating — the school record for largest attendance of student cannibals when we play Duke at the Dome. And I mean, come on, this school still needs to make money, even during the apocalypse.

If this wasn’t enough, I have garnered all of my research from watching “Zombieland” and countless hours destroying Nazi zombies on Call of Duty, so consult those items if you need help figuring out the rules. I wish you all the best of luck. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the one wearing the crown made of index fingers.

Danny Cuneo is a junior television, radio, and film major. If he had to hide anywhere on campus during the zombie apocalypse, it would be in food.com. His column runs every Thursday in Pulp. He can be reached at [email protected].

Published on January 15, 2015 at 12:01 am