Illustration by Leone Brander, Design Director
A new food vendor has been spotted on campus: Romilda’s Cemedairy, an ice cream truck that serves unique flavours including blood orange, surimi, graphite, and despair.
You can identify the truck by its bright red colour, chrome ice-cream-cone hood ornament, and faint ghostly wailing. It only appears after dusk, which means we should be seeing more of it in the coming months. The truck’s engine runs on ethanol, so it is usually parked outside the Elliott Building or the cluster residences, where the operators can steal alcohol from first-year chemistry labs and kitchens to use as fuel. It can also be found inside Cornett, the owner’s choice hiding place for when Campus Security comes to investigate.
The business is owned and operated entirely by the undead, so students are advised to stand at least two meters away from the window at all times, and to use the buddy system when making a purchase.
The new vendor has been popular so far, with students lining up to try the rotating ice cream flavours. When asked how she felt about zombies serving customers, one student said, “Don’t be so hard on them. We’ve all been there. I know I need more sleep.” Another student, when asked what he thought about the owner being a vampire, said “Leave her alone. Capitalism may not be perfect, but it’s the best system we’ve got. She’s just trying to make a living.”
In an interview with the Martlet, the truck’s owner, Romilda Falkenrath, did not initially answer any questions. She only pointed with one quavering finger at the window and hissed loudly. After I closed the blinds, Falkenrath regained her composure and said that the truck is intended to “bring delicious, affordable food to students and provide jobs for the undead.”
Falkenrath assured the Martlet that although she is a vampire, she has no desire to drink the blood of any students, because she “cannot have caffeine.” She also promised not to feed on any of UVic’s faculty or staff, adding that she only consumes the blood of “people who deserve it,” like “serial killers, or drivers who occupy two parking spots.” Falkenrath assures us that while the truck’s zombie staff “hunger constantly for human flesh,” they can be “satisfied with fresh meat from lesser mammals.” Could it be that Falkenrath has found a solution to our deer problem?
Falkenrath is planning to expand her business and open a second truck at Camosun College, and she is taking applications for part-time server positions in both trucks. Students wishing to apply should stand in the middle of the quad on a moonless night, cut the palm of their left hand with a silver dagger, and sing “Stairway to Heaven” backwards. They should also provide a resume and cover letter. Assets include prior experience in food service, the ability to work weekends, and a willingness to sever all ties with the life you once knew. Only successful candidates’ next-of-kin will be contacted.
Given the ice cream truck’s initial success, it looks like it will be sticking around. With its strange flavours, erratic location and hours, and undead staff, students’ consensus on the vendor seems to be, “Hey — at least it’s cheaper than Mystic.”
