Sorin freshman pleased to discover the rat that lives in his room can “cook like hell”

Andrew Ribholz, a freshman in Sorin, was amazed to discover the rat that has lived under his bed the whole semester is an incredible chef.

“I was just hanging out on my bed, doing what guys do–you know, counting my own teeth, thinking about war,” Ribholz said. “All of a sudden, that dang rat fell from the ceiling and got stuck in my hair. When I tried to shake the sucker out, he grabbed my hair, controlled me as if I were a puppet, and forced me to cook a perfect French Omelette.”

Naturally, Ribholz was confused, amazed, and a bit hungry.

“That darn omelette was delicious!” said Ribholz. “To think I’ve been living a whole semester with a rat who can both control my motions using my own hair and also has a comprehensive knowledge of gourmet cooking!”

Ribholz said the rat in his room used to only come out into the open at night or when the weather was especially cold or wet, but recently he’s been able to convince the vermin to sleep at the foot of his bed.

“The secret is to never shower,” said Ribholz. “The basement rooms are already very damp and moldy, which the rat’s love, but you can make it more appealing.”

“Thank God for Notre Dame Housing,” continued Ribholz. “I used to hate living with a rat in my room, but how could I hate living with a chef?”

Ribholz and his rat have formed a symbiotic relationship since Ribholz’s discovery. Ribholz provides the rat with food and shelter, and the rat concocts elegant and tasteful seven-course dinners each evening. Ribholz has even named his rat.

The rat’s name? Rat.

“Rat and I have a great relationship,” said Ribholz. “Last week he taught me how to flambé a pork, and tonight we’re making a bean dip. It’s amazing, though–if my rat can help me cook, I can only imagine what the bats upstairs can do!”

As of press time, Ribholz was sitting on his rat’s head trying to make it write his Philosophy essay.

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