I Filled My Backpack with Liquefied Meat Every Day for a Year and Today It Finally Paid Off

The last year has not been without dedication or hardship, but then again, nothing worthwhile ever is. Getting to where I am, today, has taken commitment, diligence, fervor, a little bit of obsession, and a whole lot of meat. You may have listened to the haters, you may have seen the imitators, but it looks like the year I spent filling up my backpack with liquefied beef has paid off.

Every morning, I grab my backpack from my refrigerator and every evening I fill it up further with succulent beef, freshly ground and blended into a thick, creamy paste. Eventually, the beef begins to weigh heavy as I trudge to DRL, and it piles up, spilling out of the side pockets and festering between the zippers of my backpack. So on Thursday evenings at 6pm, I replace the beef with a fresh batch. Usually, I can fit up to 5 lbs. in my $790, studded MCM backpack. Unless the batch of paste I make is cold. Then, I can fit 6 lbs.

When I first posited Angus Beef in my new backpack, of course I caught my fair share of ridicule and doubt. I was given stares and disgusted looks. I was even asked quite rudely if I missed being able to use my extremely costly bag for literally anything else. “No Mom,” I said, “I must be prepared.” I was called names; I was put down. But in my opinion, the only name I should have been called is “the logical and sensible genius whose backpack smells a little but it’s fine because he’s prepared”. That has a nice ring to it.

That said, I knew that one day my giant supply of liquefied meat would pay off. Today was that day. On this sunny Monday, I walked over the bridge on 38th, slogging along the juicy gelatin with me, and stepped into Commons. There, I heard the cry coming from hundreds of freshmen. I knew that cry from my own Monday afternoons just a year ago. This was the sound heard only during the horror of Meatless Mondays.

I had to act quickly.

I ran as fast as I could, past the salad bar, past the Expo section. When I got there, they were all waiting for me: the pangs of hunger and sounds of stomachs grumbling thundered through the dining hall. Finally, one of the tiny children looked up at me and said, “We are hungry, Thomas. Please feed us your tender beef.”

“Our journey from quad has been a long one, Thomas,” cried another student, “Please be our savior.”

This is the moment I had spent so long waiting for. I unzipped my backpack and made my way around each and every table, pouring out angus beef slushie over everyone’s foods. The students were so elated to have found the nourishment and satisfaction of meat from animals . Afterwards, I facetimed my mother, showing her the joyous scene in front of me as she stared in disbelief.

Now, my heart is filled with exultation, and I finally feel vindicated. After a year of meat blending and backpack filling, I was truly prepared when needed most. And now, I must buy more beef; for next Monday is quickly approaching, and there will once again be famished bellies to feed.