The Chicago Shady Dealer

The Chicago Shady Dealer

The Only Intentional Humor Publication of the University of Chicago

Disappointing Dollar Shake Shatters First Year

by By Thomas Noriega

As everyone on campus knows, students can get milkshakes in Reynolds Club for a dollar every Wednesday. Newly-minted first year Daniella Heinz had heard all about the longstanding UChicago tradition through the barrage of college advertising she had received.

“I live near an ice creamery back home in Wisconsin,” Heinz said. She went on, explaining, “They sell these excellent shakes dripping with all sorts of syrups and candies, crowned with mountains of whipped cream. Of course, they come at a price.” But when she heard that she could get shakes at school for a dollar apiece, Heinz was understandably excited. “My parents only got my brother and me shakes on special occasions, so I figured this would bring me feelings of home every week.”

Eager to experience her first UChicago shake, Heinz marched out to Reynolds her first Wednesday on campus. She reportedly saw the colossal line, stretching through C-Shop and spilling out across campus, as a good omen. “Oh man, look at all these people!” she exclaimed. “Nobody would wait this long for a mediocre shake.”

As Heinz approached the counter, she joked to the employee managing the cash register, “Heh, a bit small, aren’t they?” The employee stared blankly at Heinz for a few long seconds before asking what toppings the first-year wanted. “I’ll have…” Heinz’s voice trailed off, noticing her only choices were a couple of stale maraschino cherries, trace amounts of Oreo dust, and nearly-whipped cream, the last of which was, admittedly, pretty hard to mess up. “Whipped cream and your, fullest, most intact Oreos, please.”

Upon receiving her shake, Heinz saw only a misshapen mound of almost-whipped cream dusted with a few cookie crumbs. “Looks can be deceiving,” Heinz said hopefully, her voice nevertheless faltering. She took a sip of the vanilla concoction. Her face fell. “Oh,” Said Heinz, staring into the mediocre malt. “Oh...” she repeated, absently stirring the drink as she gazed into the face of an uncaring universe.

Heinz stumbled off to class, the existential void that had opened within her serving as great preparation for her imminent adulthood.