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Mission Dining One-Ups Whitman’s With not Uno, not Dos, not Tres, but QUATRO LECHES CAKE

“At first it was delicious,” said Bruce Barbeque ‘23. “Then I got to the fourth leches, right at the very bottom of the cake, and…” Barbeque stared off into the distance as if remembering something he didn’t want to remember. A shadow passed over his face. “Never mind.” He dropped his backpack right there on the ground and took off in the direction of the nearest mountain.

Baffled, our reporter approached another student spotted emerging from Mission Dining Hall, Danielle Puddingsworth ‘22. Puddingsworth walked slowly up the stairs with unseeing eyes, murmuring “the fourth leche, the fourth leche.” Our reporter inquired as to the nature of this fourth leche, to which Puddingsworth replied, “There’s condensed milk, evaporated milk, frosting. The familiar milks, you know.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “And then there’s this other milk, the... resurfaced milk. That’s the fourth leche. The fourth.” She softly touched the reporter’s cheek then turned away, hunched over, walking fast.

We had to get to the bottom of this, so we went to the source. In the Mission kitchen, our reporter sat down with Daphne Airfryer, a cook. “It came to us in a box,” Airfryer stated. “The box said it was from Maud Mandel. Please serve, it said.” When our reporter expressed disbelief, Airfryer explained, “well, Maud’s name was spelled wrong, and the handwriting was strange. There were green slimy fingerprints all over the box.”

Putting the pieces together, our reporter emerged from Mission and looked up at the night sky. He saw a UFO flying low overhead. Before he could blink, a beam of light flew down. “You know too much,” said an otherworldly voice. He was never heard from again.



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