My buddy and fellow English teacher Bob (the leader sing and bassist extraordinaire of the Faculty Follies band) wrote the first few stanzas of "EB Cafeteria," to the tune of "Hotel California" and I added a couple of mundane verses at the end, but then I had a brilliant idea and found the seed of a narrative within the subtext of the song-- I was worried Bob wouldn't be into me taking his masterpiece down this road, but as usual, he was willing and ready to sing anything, no matter how gross and absurd (and at the end of the song, I got to improvise a guitar solo-- which was a little scary in front of such a huge crowd, but everything ended right in time-- lyrics below, you'll be able to tell which verses I am responsible for.)
EB Cafeteria
Down a walkway in D-hall
Fluorescent light in my hair
Warm smell of fajitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead, in the distance, the doors, opened wide
Make sure you have a late pass, if you want to get inside
Better get through the doorway
Before the second bell
Wait in line for some fixins
To fill your Taco bowl shell
Lunch lady grabs a ladle, And she scoops you some lunch
Wait, it’s 10:38, so I guess it's more like a brunch
Welcome to the EB cafeteria
Such an open space, you can stuff your face
Plenty to eat at the EB cafeteria
A potluck surprise, would you like some fries?
TVs near the ceiling, a juice box on ice
We are all just prisoners here of our cellular device
Clean the crumbs off your table and get ready for the feast
you’re just about to take a bite,
when your friend decides to sneeze!
Your lunch is covered with mucous and a stray nose hair.
You’ve got nothing else to eat, it just isn’t fair.
You could glom a few french fries, Beg for m&m's
Or you could make the best of it,
And wipe away the phlegm.
Welcome to the EB cafeteria
Such an open space, for an acquired taste
Hella big eats at the EB cafeteria
A potluck surprise, would you like some fries?
1 comment:
You're a glom, you're a glom
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