Wastrels and Gluttons

Dennis Dugdale sat in his office chair, smoking a cigarette and contemplating and waiting. His mind was busy, as it often was at work, with concerns about present problems and potential solutions.1

The present problem, unlike his usual concerns, was of a much greater scope than his usual worktime bickerings. It was a concern of long-term storage and the efficiency of his particular sector of control (the Bureau of Abdominal Administration, or BAA for short). Dennis was indeed the director of said bureau, and had much influence over several processes controlled by the various Bureaus, Departments and Offices underneath him (Dennis often contemplated this peculiar situation, of how thirteen subsidiary departments were run under his department, which was controlled, along with five other departments, by the same department, which was controlled, along with fourteen other departments, by one elected official.)2

So it would seem as if there were already plenty, if not too much control of the various processes necessary to the body and controlled by the brain. And yet, Dennis found himself on this day worrying about even the processes he didn’t control, and of the other departments separately controlled from his.3

During this rather intense contemplation, his good friend and employee Ryan Macionski bustled through the door, carrying a small bundle of files he was no doubt in the process of delivering to one office or another.4

“Sorry I’m late,” Ryan said as he seated himself in Dennis’s chair and placed his files on the desk in front of him, “this last order’s just been hectic getting cleared and Cervantes from accounting made some errors on his reporting and…” he took a second to clear his head, remembering he had been called here for a reason. “Anyway. What’s up?”5

“We run a tight ship, don’t we Ryan?” asked Dennis.6

“The tightest,” responded Ryan.7

“And when we work efficiently, we help people…right?”8

Ryan paused for just a second before answering. “…Yeah. Of course we do.”9

“Then why,” questioned Dennis, “does it feel so wrong to allow this order to go through?”10

Ryan leaned back, thinking. A quick smirk escaped his mouth before he answered. “Well, Dennis…if we didn’t take care of the shipment, where would it go?”11

“Well…yeah. It can’t go anywhere. But have you been noticing the trend? This order is the latest of twelve to go through our department, each one of increasing size and decreasing value. Don’t you think it’s time for the brain to slow down a little?”12

“Dennis…you know that’s not something either of us can control. It’s a publicity thing.”13

“Yeah, I know, I know…election year and all that…but don’t you think it has to stop somewhere? I mean, every budget we end up with too much intake and too little expulsion. When was the last time you looked at the weight figures?”14

“Wow. The weight figures…I dunno, maybe two, three years?”15

“Two hundred sixty seven. That’s seventy-five overweight.”16

Ryan let out a whistle. “That’s pretty bad.”17

“You’re damn right it’s bad. I mean…we can’t keep going on like this. We’re running out of room to put the fat. And our workers on the ground level, in the factories, processing all this junk…they’ve been feeling it too. The extra work load is leading to massive overtime, and the storage units are just about getting full.”18

“Yeah, but it’s not like the stomach’s never been full before. We know we can handle it.”19

“Well it was never easy. It’s always been grueling for everybody under the BAA, and especially the ground-level processors. Do you know how they’re taking this one?”20

“No, I didn’t get a chance to read the last report yet…”21

Dennis picked up the report in his hand and read directly from it. “Morale among the process workers has been comparatively low, but was boosted when a recent mail-order of endorphins totaling $75,000 in bonuses from surplus endorphin levels generated by the incoming order was doled out amongst the employees. The Bureau of Bile Administration (BBA) estimated the increase in morale throughout the stomach will allow an extra 12 ounces of food to be consumed under the direction of the Bureaus of Mastication and Esophagus Administration, respectively.”22

“Wow,” said Ryan.23

“You hear that? They’re using the surplus created by the order to allow even more food to be consumed when they know damn good and well the excess waste will be sent straight to the Departments of the Buttocks and Thighs, who exceeded quotas by 30% last quarter if you need be reminded,” Dennis asserted forcefully.24

At this, Ryan simply sat still.25

“Yeah,” completed Dennis. “It’s a mess.”26

“Well, okay. But there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it. You hear me, man? Absolutely nothing! We can complain about it being wrong all we want. But what you have to remember is that our job is necessary. And as long as we can’t control the brain’s intake decisions, we have to process the orders. If we don’t…what’ll happen? Are we just gonna let the food back up in the esophagus? Let the body starve off the excess fat? Look…it feels wrong. And it just might be wrong. But there is nothing we can do but help in our own way.”27

“Yeah…yeah I guess you’re right.”28

“Does that help?”29

“Yeah. Ryan…you’re a good friend. You always put things in perspective for me. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I could take this job.”30

“Good.” Ryan stood up, grabbed his folder and turned out to walk out the door, then stopped. “You know? I wouldn’t expect it to go on much longer, either.”31

“What?”32

“Yeah. Word around the office is the food-gathering expedition is just past peak and it’s on rapid decline.”33

Dennis let a big smile break loose and stood up from his chair. “Oh, thank God! Why did they say it was happening, is it just running out, or…?”34

“Well, you remember how it was a traditional dinner outing the food was coming from?”35

“Yeah.”36

“Well, it turns out the conversation turned to politics, and the brain is getting preoccupied with that instead of food processing. Something about how the American government is too wasteful with its spending, and the bureaucracy, or…oh, whatever. I never understood that whole cognitive thought stuff anyway.”37

“Oh my God, that’s great news!” exclaimed Dennis. “You know what…thank you. That has made my day.”38

“No problem, man. Just remember, though, this is office rumor as of right now. There’s no guarantee it’s true.”39

“Well, you know how rumors get around here.”40

“True. True. Well…thanks for the talk! See you later, Dennis!”41

“Yeah, talk to you later, Ryan! Thanks for stopping by!”42

And with that, Dennis leaned back in his chair, content. Things were looking up.