Little Johnny, CC ‘29, had only heard the legend of Baroness Nemat Shafik when he was accepted into Columbia. Shafik was just a faded myth, the big bad wolf of generations past. When reading the story of Circe in the Odyssey, Little Johnny couldn’t help but picture the ephemeral Shafik, the one and only Minouche, and the canticle of her epic rise and fall.
After a few lite beers at a Co-öp reunion party hosted by his cool senior orientation leader in EC, Brett, Little Johnny had an idea from something he had seen a few months back on TikTok. “Hey Brett,” Little Johnny exclaimed from across the room. “I’m so hungry I could eat Minouche Shafik!”
But Brett didn’t laugh. He remembered too well. He remembered those April nights locked out of campus and unable to access Butler. He remembers eating those cold Shake Shack fries with his Minouche bucksTM. He looked at Little Johnny with disgust, saying, “You fucking kids think you’re so smart.” He spat out his chew and glared.
Little Johnny quickly backed down, but he couldn’t shake the chills that Brett’s response sent down his spine. That night, Little Johnny lay awake tossing and turning in his Furnald single, wondering if one day, three years and another five presidents later, a wee CC’32er’s mention of “Jennifer Mnookin” would make him feel the same rage.
