Editor’s note: This article was initially published in The Daily Gazette, Swarthmore’s online, daily newspaper founded in Fall 1996. As of Fall 2018, the DG has merged with The Phoenix. See the about page to read more about the DG.
Sometime last week, the town of Swarthmore spontaneously imploded, leaving a Ville-sized crater in the ground. The exact date and time of the implosion has not been determined yet, due to the fact that nobody noticed until Saturday morning, when Swarthmore students tried to show up to Hobbs for brunch.
Max Abelson ‘16, a Hobbs regular, was outwardly distressed about the cafe’s disintegration, rendered nearly incapable of speaking coherently due to a combination of shock and extreme hunger.
“All I wanted was a breakfast burrito and a soy caramel latte that Saturday morning,” Abelson said, “Not a smoking hole in the ground.”
Swarthmore Public Safety, physics professors, and hired private investigators are working around the clock to try to determine the time and cause of the implosion. At this point, foul play has not been ruled out.
“The deeper our investigation has taken us, the more we’ve uncovered motives for wanting pretty much any business in the Ville gone,” Director of Public Safety Mike Hill said.
According to Hill and his team’s research, the owner of Swarthmore Pizza has been plotting revenge on Renato ever since his daughter was spotted flirting with a Renato chef and slipping him her father’s secret cheese pizza recipe. Dunkin’ Donuts has been rumored to be a front for a shady drug cartel called “Donas de los Muertos.” A few weeks ago, an undercover agent discovered that most of the Co-Op’s produce is only 95% organic and 90% local. And the three haircutting places have been at each other’s throats for years.
“Anyone could have wanted any of these businesses dead,” Hill said. “The problem is, we can’t figure out which business was targeted, since the whole freaking town is gone.”
Unfortunately, it appears that anybody in the Ville at the time of the implosion was also incinerated. So far, the only sole survivor is Bill Scandal, the owner of Hobbs. Scandal was away at a week-long kielbasa tasting festival in Philadelphia when the disaster struck.
“Frankly, I’m pretty disappointed I couldn’t serve brunch this weekend,” Scandal said. “We had this great special — kielbasa on a Twinkie.”
The absence of Hobbs has proved trying for the majority of Swarthmore students, who now have to resort to going to Sharples for their weekend brunch fixes.
“Do you realize how heartbreaking it is when all you’re craving is a chorizo, egg, and cheddar bagel sandwich, and all Sharples has are Grilla sandwiches?” Abelson said, his hands shaking from clear caffeine withdrawal.
So far, students haven’t mentioned missing any of the other business in the Ville, except for Jenny Liu ‘16.
“The Laundromat had a change machine that could convert $10 into quarters. Where the fuck am I going to get money for my laundry now?” she asked.
