It was a typical Tuesday afternoon when Chipotle first opened on campus, like a mirage in the desert — or, more accurately, a glistening beacon of guacamole in a wasteland of sad cafeteria salads and overpriced Starbucks sandwiches.
Students cheered. Professors wept. But this wasn’t just another fast-casual dining experience. No, this was something far more sinister.
At first, the line seemed normal. It snaked around the corner, full of people laughing and debating if double meat was worth it. But soon, things got darker than the caramelized exterior of the limited-edition smoked brisket.
It began with Sarah from PSYC 101. She went for a "quick burrito bowl" and was never seen again. Ryan texted his friends, “BRB, grabbing lunch,” but he, too, vanished without a trace. Soon, entire study groups were gone, swallowed by the abyss of hungry undergrads.
Those who made it to the front of the line reported eerie experiences.
One girl blacked out choosing between pinto and black beans and woke up with three tacos she didn’t order. Others whispered of the “cursed guacamole” — $2.50 one day, $5 the next. And if you customized your burrito too much, the staff would hand you… a salad.
A salad!
Rumors say the line stretches into another dimension, where time doesn’t exist. “I’ve been in line for three days,” moaned one student, clutching a crumpled receipt. “I think I saw my Econ TA disappear into the kitchen.”
Despite these warnings, the line only grows. “It can’t be that bad, right?” freshmen say, lured by the scent of tortillas and seasoned chicken.
But beware: once you enter Chipotle, you may never leave.
And if you do… you’ll probably be charged extra for guac.
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