Students dining at the Ratty this week were treated to the regular spectacle as dining hall staff gathered around an oversized cauldron, chanting while stirring a thick, bubbling soup.

“Eye of potato, toe of boot, tail of rat, and a splash of expired oat milk—this should be our most bewitching batch yet,” crowed Sister Grizelda, adjusting her freshly issued hair net which stretched into an eerily sharp point at the top. “Not too hot, not too cold, but juuust right!”

“Now, to really enhance the flavor…” murmured Mistress Hexley, raising her gnarled soup ladle like a wand and summoning the rest of the weyward staff to encircle the cauldron and spit into its briny depths before serving, as is University tradition. “Ptooey! Ptooey! Ptooey!”

“They don’t call this the Ratty for nothing,” cackled Grand Crone Belinda, the appointed soup churner, hoisting a twitching, unidentified ingredient from a trap behind the dish return and tossing it into the roiling depths of the murky broth. “I think we’ll call this one the vegan broccoli cheddar mystery surprise!”

At press time, the Ratty cleaning staff were heard yelling, “Out damned spot! Out, I say!” while trying to mop the soup stains off the floor.

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