By an incel named Zack.

DISCLAIMER: This article is part of The Torch’s annual “Torchure” issue, the April fools Issue. During the Torchure, our journalistic ethics and commitment to the truth hop on the earliest bus out of town, and we spend the better part of the week trying to coax them back with cannolies and baby oil. The Torch will return to faithful, truthful coverage of UMass Dartmouth-centric news next week, until then, enjoy whatever this is?

Res (or “the Marketplace”, the name Gen X’ers call it) is widely known across the country for their fantastic turkey products. I know how much students across campus despise real pork bacon and angus beef burgers; they’re just so old-fashioned. The cool kids these days are wearing paisley button-downs, drinking Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and chowing down on Res turkey burgers. They’re delicious.

My question is: why stop at burgers and bacon? Surely, there’s so much more food that we can replace with decadent white meat from the turkey’s breast, turning what would have been a banal food into a luscious meal of excitement and flavor. Let’s start with the chicken tenders at birch. Chicken? Yeah, okay, right. A turkey’s basically a big chicken, so let’s get some big turkey tenders.

While we’re at it, Birch also has their popular chicken salads, whose meat can just be replaced with turkey. Replace the lettuce with turkey, and you’ve got yourself a turkey turkey salad.

Ben and Jerry’s? More like Ben and Turkey’s, am I RIGHT. We should grab all those nasty, unhealthy flavors, scoop the ice cream out, and shove living, breathing turkeys in the pint-sized cartons.

Let’s get rid of all that soda that comes from the fountain dispensers; the sugar’s awful for your teeth. We should find some local turkeys, puree them in a Ninja™ Blender, and pour them into the Coke machines. Imagine the joy on children’s faces when they press that lever and turkey paste comes out! Wow, a yummy drink for the little boys and girls!
All those “you’ve saved 10,000 water bottles” water fountains around campus really have me depressed about all the plastic the world uses. Turkeys don’t come with plastic packaging. Rip out all the water bubblers and replace them with turkey meat molded into a bubbler shape.

And let’s not forget about Rose, who hands out those… chocolate… cookies every day at Res. Those are fine

But what isn’t fine is the sushi that sits out every day at the To Go stations. Take away all that raw fish and replace it with a turkey’s beak for flavor the likes of which you’ve never tasted.

Wendy’s serves a lot of unhealthy turkeyless menu options, and I think this can be blamed more on the employees than the food itself. Let’s replace all the employees with hyperintelligent turkeys for speedier and healthier service.

You know what other parts of campus are slacking? The transportation. The shuttle is more inconsistent than my ex-wife’s excuses for cheating. Get rid of those buses and replace them with 20 foot turkeys that have leather seats sewn into their delicate skin. Turkeys don’t have seats in the ACLU, so we can treat them however we want.

Speaking of transportation, the parking situation is something that always gives the students trouble. The fact of the matter is, most of the surrounding acres of land around campus are too uneven for parking lots to be easily built. That’s where the turkeys come in. If we could get thousands of turkeys that have titanium skeletons to group up in such a way that their backs line up accurately enough to provide a flat, level plane whose degrees vary no more than 2.5 and which doesn’t leave any gaps or cracks, then we have a new healthy parking lot.

I wish the vending machines were just friendly turkeys that gave me turkey Skittles.
The windmill would be more electricity-efficient if it were turned by dozens of buff, sweaty turkeys, like the plane at the end of Chicken Run, except it’s a windmill and they’re buff sweaty turkeys.

I won’t stop until this campus becomes even more turkey-inclusive than it already is. I won’t stop until everything is turkey. All turkey. All is turkey.

Every day I want to pull out of my turkey parking lot in my turkey car, passing the sign that says Welcome to the Turkeyversity of Turkechusetts Turkmouth. I want to pull up to my turkey house that I owe a huge turkey mortgage to, then walk through the door to see my turkey wife, my second wife but my first turkey wife, and I walk in and ohhh here comes all the turkey accusations about staying at turkey work overtime, no turkey wife, I wasn’t cheating on you with another turkey, sometimes work is just more demanding then expected. And then she gobbles at me even louder, and I say no turkey wife, not in front of the turkeykid.

All our turkey arguing leads to the turkey in the oven getting burned, oh of course my turkey wife was cooking turkey for me, and then since she forgot about it and I came home, it’s SOMEHOW MY FAULT. Oh, sorry I’m the ONLY ONE THAT CAN KEEP A JOB AND KEEP THE TURKEY PAYCHECKS COMING. I try to calm down by pulling out the turkey whiskey and again, not in front of the turkeykid, but he doesn’t know, he’s 5, he probably thinks it’s just turkey maple syrup, and I drink, and I drink, and the turkey wife doesn’t talk to me, and all of a sudden it’s 9 PM and I haven’t completed the turkey activism project I wanted to, but then I remember oh I was gonna play catch with turkeykid, but it’s past turkeykid’s bedtime, and I keep drinking.

I wake up to the turkeysun high in the turkeysky, and I realize my turkey wife tucked in the turkeycovers to keep me warm, and I know she still loves me, and I cry turkey tears, because I don’t deserve her, I don’t deserve my turkey wife. She puts up with so much that my other wife never did, and she makes me turkey, and that’s what’s important.
I can’t tell her about my turkeymistress.

Oh God, I could never. It’s not her fault. At this point, I’m almost considering it an act of good that I’m hiding my turkeymistress from my turkey wife and turkeyson in order to spare their feelings; how twisted is it that I’ve invented self-justifications for my darkest secrets? I hate my turkeyself. I can’t believe I’ve let the affair get this far, I can’t believe what I’ve done to myself, my moral compass. This already happened once, with my first wife, before I had a turkeyhouse with turkey furniture. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want my turkeykid to grow up like me.

Turkeykid, if you ever read this, I love you, and you should do your best to act differently than your father. Your mother doesn’t deserve the pain I might put her through, the pain I am already putting her through by doing this.

Turkey honesty and turkey love, those are the two most important elements to any turkey relationship. I struggle with both of these. I do love you, but my lack of turkey honesty keeps me from being the father I could have been, the husband I should have been. You and your mother completed me; I was the piece that left you empty.

So yeah, Res should try harder with their turkey stuff.