Fatty, Fatty

by

Duncan L. Dieterly

they needed to make arrangements to pay them immediately, implying, but avoiding saying or else. His computer screen went dark! His concentration shattered. Overhead the silken voice of Garland, emitted from his universal communication monitor sweetly advised him, reassuringly, did not calm him. Wally honey, it is time for you to attend to completing your quarterly medical physical. You have fifteen minutes to report to the organization medical unit. Please be prompt. Your screen will remain dark for the next sixty minutes. To activate it before that, you will have to contact your central controller for approval of an earlier turn on. Have a good day Wally. Wally used to talk back to Garland, but sadly, after all, she was not programmed for interaction. She was only a computer generated message virtual voice recording. Wally, irritated as always by interruptions, pushed back and thought about the good old days when you talked to people not virtual voice recorders. Looking down at the calendar module on his automated desktop, he saw the medical appointment listed in green. It was glowing slightly. He also checked the date. It was August 15, 2055 and under that was a small green number 5. That meant he was just five days away from his annual vacation. This year, the Federal Vacation Administration Northern Sector (FVANS) finally had awarded him a tantalizing vacation. The first exciting one he had in over six years. A two week all expenses paid gourmet vacation in Mexico City with his wife was allocated to him. I 1

ally was immersed in his creative processes, finishing a curt but concerned notification message to a major commercial account, informing them that they owed his organization a lot of money and

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guess I am lucky. I hate the stay at home vacations anymore, since you are now limited to remain within a fifty mile radius for your entire two weeks. Since he lived in a suburb there was not much to do within fifty miles of his apartment. Sighing audibly he got up. I wish it was back in my dads day! He removed his grey uniform jacket, with his name; Wally M. Slaton, emblazoned over the left pocket from its wall receptacle and slid it on. It felt a little tight. Damn cleaners must have shrunk it again! Facing the exit panel, holding the palm of his hand onto the flat glass sensor plate next to it, he waited for the panel to slide back with its mild swish, allowing his departure. When he walked out, it swished shut behind him and the deep male security guard virtual voice of Joseph, advised him authoritatively, Wally, your work space is now secured. Have a good day, Wally. Wally scratched at his palm where the personal sensor implant had been injected over fifteen years ago. He never was comfortable with the concept nor the physical device. The damn thing seemed to irritate him all the time, especially if he was enmeshed in a stressful situation. He was always scratching at it. Unfortunately, he seemed to be involved in more stressful issues every week. Strolling briskly over to the moving walkway, he easily hopped aboard. He watched the endless cubical panel entrances slowly flow past him at the rate of twelve miles per hour. At section nine, he stepped off smartly. Walking over to the up escalator, which he rode until he reached level six. Wally hated his physicals, not because of the tests, which were painless but because of the doctors constant harassment over a few lousy pounds. He usually glibly talked his way out of it, but the doctor was always ranting on at him about that damn 2050 Federal Obesity Index. God is that all they thought about? I mean I have critical work to do. How is it going to get accomplished if I am perspiring in some stupid fitness center or steam room? Arriving at level six he stepped off and headed down the left corridor on the moving walkway until the sign for Room J88 appeared. He disembarked just outside the door. Absent mindedly he was about enter, when a voice boomed behind him, Wally is that you? Wally old buddy!

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Wally turned, to find the grinning mug of happy-go-lucky Ethan. Ethan was a former Hazards Assessment Department associate; they had both been with the organization for over fifteen years. Wally forcing a smile said, Hey Ethan, whats up! Still slender as a rail, Ethan smiling broadly, lowered his voice conspiratorially inquiring, Have you heard about George? You know George Malone over in sector G. Remember, he worked with us on the Committee for Agreements, just last year. He was that smart assed senior project engineer who knew it all. Oh yeah, I guess I do. Well he was just ejected out the back! Just minutes ago! Im telling you. You want to know why? Do you? No! Why? Wally didnt really need this gossip gas at the moment. He hadnt given up smoking, per Organizational Health Directive 996 and they detected the nicotine when they ran the Hiller - Maxler test, at his quarterly physical this morning. It triggered the alarm bell. Man, he was detained on the spot, provided a severance package, escorted down stairs and kicked out. Poor guy, he wont be able to get a job anywhere else in this country. Dumb ass, he was our age you know. His family will really suffer. Why did he do it? I wonder? Wally responded, I am sure I dont know, havent seen him since the committee finished the report. I think he was smoke free then. Who knows? The only worse thing than smoking in this tight assed organization is being overweight. The damn obesity index rules are a bitch! The harsh words leaped from Ethans mouth, before he thought about it, and noticed how truly chunky Wally appeared. Wally sucked in his gut and smiled weakly, Yeah, I guess that is the truth. Embarrassed now, Ethan hurried off calling back, Sorry gotta run Wally, give me an electronic blast and we will do lunch. Yeah. Sure. Will do. Wally waved at him. His anxiety was spiking over his impending physical. He pressed his palm on the entrance monitor panel and waited for it to buzz softly and swoosh open. It did. He entered. The small white empty room contained a small table in the far corner, below the full wall video screen. The soothing electronic greeter spoke,

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Hello Wally. You are right on time. Thank you. Please take a seat and relax. Your personal physician, Dr. Martha Jabbor, will be with you in a minute. Wally attempted to sit down but had a little trouble since the table top didnt move and the chair was connected close, with what he felt was a very narrow space for his mature adult body. Like the old high school desk he sat at as a boy. Squiggling into it with his belly snuggled against the top he tried to relax, staring patiently at the large blank video screen confronting him. It exploded in colors accompanied by a low peppy song about working toward ones goals. He listened to it for the millionth time and then it faded out and the huge harsh face of Dr. Jabbor, the organizations chief physician loomed up. She was frowning as she silently reviewed his file on her diagnostic screen. Wally could not see the file. She looked very thin with large dark penetrating eyes and had her long white hair up in a tight bun. Dr. Jabbor was an ancient looking woman with wrinkled sagging skin. She reminded him of an evil witch out of a childrens story book. Dr. Jabbor began sharply, Well Wally, my, my how long has it been? Oh, yes exactly four months. And now. What to do with you? You have not done as we asked, have you now? You promised me to lose twenty pounds and have you? Not waiting for his response, Dr. Jabbor pressed on, You know I am very disappointed in you Wally. Very disappointed! We expect more discipline from our senior work team. I mean we all know the deadly dangers of obesity. You have attended all the organizations mandatory health program presentations according to your file. What is the matter with you? Do you have a death wish? I have lectured you on four previous visits, and I have been unsuccessful in convincing you! Oh yes, last quarter you did loose ten pounds but since that nothing. What do you have to say for yourself? Well, I try to lose weight. I skip lunch! I dont eat any deserts or have snacks at home. But I end up eating under pressure and not noticing that I am doing it. You know my job is extremely stressful. Of course it is Wally. That is why we reward you handsomely. However, in case you havent noticed we have lots of people at your level and they are under just as much

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stress and yet they are all meeting their designated weight targets. They maintain their appropriate obesity index. They do not allow it to exceed the prescribed standard. Wally we are an organization and country that pride ourselves on accountability to the highest health standards. I mean without standards, what would we have? Why utter chaos. However, in your case, I am afraid we have played out all our options. I am going to have to terminate you. Panicked Wally cried out, Why? No! Not that. Give me another chance! I will make goal and stay in my weight limit band. Well the weight monitor in the chair you are sitting on shows that you weigh 210.6 pounds, and that my friend is exactly what you weighed when you sat down there four months ago. We dont see any progress. I have exhausted all the extension options normally offered. I know. I know. And am grateful, just give me one more chance, for Gods sake! I am right in the middle of the Karmen Project. I will work harder than ever to lose the weight. I will lose it. I promise. The cold screen and unrelenting doctor reflected down at him. The physicians face was immobile, and then, with a smirk, she said, Here is the deal Wally. We no longer can give you a time extension to lose the weight on your own. We have already allowed you two more extensions than normal because, well, I like you Wally. I really do. So as you know we can terminate you today and hand you your final check or she hesitated, building the suspense. Terrified, Wally was perspiring profusely. His heart was pounding; his mind was racing, fighting to think of something, anything to get him off the hook. OR? OR? The drowning Wally was clutching at straws, begging in desperation. Well do not let this get out, but we have established a special program known as, ELSCP, or Executive Level Surgical Corrective Program. It is only available to our critical people. We will schedule you tomorrow and reduce you back to your accepted obesity index with a surgically installed stomach cinch after the full abdomen liposuction drags all that gooey worthless fat out of you. I dont know. A surgical procedure? Wally was squirming in the seats grasp.

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Well, Wally. I am going out on limb here for you but it is your call. I am willing to make an exception in your case and approve your inclusion in our special program. As you know, in accordance with your employment contract we have every right to terminate you due to obesity. That is under Clause 34 in Section 98. Well yes-s-s but what are a few pounds, I am big boned you know. I have always been chunky. I was a chubby child. Wally pleaded. Well, Wally this is decision time. You are a big boy, Ah-ha-ha, no pun intended - just decide. Termination today, or operation tomorrow. Wally could not afford to lose his job! His whole family depended upon him. He tried to stall, Well, I mean how safe is this operation? Dont be a cry baby, Wally. It is safe as can be. Confidentially, just between you and me, every executive officer in this company has had it done successfully you think they all could look so fit on their own? Undisciplined sods, every last one of them. You will be vacuumed and cinched in a matter of two maybe three hours tops and then two days of recovery, and all is well. Good as new! We can then centrally monitor your appetite adjuster and no more obesity index problems for you. Appetite adjuster? What is that? How does it work? I mean will it keep the weight off? Oh, my yes. A centrally controlled appetite adjuster that is implanted in your stomach will log in your weight every morning and adjust the cinch accordingly. If you have gained any weight it is tightened, if not it stays put, if you lose it is opened. It will keep you within one ounce of your established obesity index no matter what you do. Oh, what is that? My obesity index I mean. Wally had avoided the issue the past five years didnt even know. Well for you, it is 178.6 pounds plus or minus eight ounces. Will I be able to eat? Well, of course, yes and no. What? What do you mean? Well you will be able to eat anything you want, but you will not be able to eat large portions of it at one time. The cinch will prevent you from consuming more than

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two ounces at any time. You will be able to eat anything you want but in moderate portions. In addition, your overall appetite will decrease and certainly, your taste buds will be affected. You also may feel depressed occasionally and experience increased flatulence. Other than that, absolutely no problems. Your future physicals will be a piece of cake. Oh, Ah- ha, ha, no pun intended. We have successfully performed over ten thousand of these operations nationally in the past two years. They are almost non-invasive. Once completed, it allows us to control your weight so you and your wife will no longer have to worry about it. By the way, she and the rest of your family have done a great job of maintaining their respective indexes. Please, thank them for me. You should be very proud. Yes - sure, sure. Why havent I heard about this program before? Well it is a confidential program. We are a little concerned that so many of our key people are undisciplined and we certainly dont want our rivals to know this about our leadership. We have our image to protect. It is an expensive procedure, and we certainly cannot afford to offer it to all our employees. We must be discretely selective in its application. Wally whined. I am supposed to go on my vacation in five days. I could do it when I get back. Is that Ok? No problem. You can still go; you just wont be able to eat any solid foods for several weeks. You will be supplied with the appropriate supplemental food liquids. No, you dont understand. It is THE gourmet restaurant vacation to Mexico City. I have waited all my life for it! Well I am sorry, but perhaps you would not be confronted with this decision if you had refrained from excessive gourmet dining in the past. Ah-ha-ha. She laughed at his expense. We reap what we sow! Now what is it going to be - cut for the team or become an unemployed tubby? Your call, kiddo. Her maddening toothy smirk filled the screen. Wally was angry. Wally was terrified. He knew he was in no position to negotiate anything. He swallowed hard. Sadly whimpering, Cut.

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What did you say Wally? Cut Fine, excellent choice. The final details will be sent by electronic transmission. I have you scheduled for elective surgery at ten tomorrow morning, Saturday. You will be released on Tuesday at noon just in time to get ready for that wonderful vacation of yours. You will be provided with work material and a full work panel during your recovery period so you will not have to miss any work at all. The organizations medical van will pick you up at your apartment at eight sharp tomorrow and deliver you back home at two, on the dot, in the afternoon on Tuesday. No visitors and no flowers or gifts, please. You may naturally communicate electrically with your family or anyone of course. Wonderful. Wally sounded defeated. Good! I am so glad we are going to keep playing ball together Wally. I always liked you. Wally wanted to smash the screen. To reach in, and tear her heart out but constrained himself. You will be provided with all the necessary release forms for your signature at the clinic upon your arrival, and then they will perform the procedure. Do not eat anything after midnight tonight and get a good nights rest. See you in four months Wally. Oh, and enjoy that great vacation. The screen went dark. This session is culminated. For a timely departure place your palm firmly on the exit monitor pad please. Wally was stunned. This was not what he expected. He didnt want to be operated on! He didnt want another electronic control planted in his body. He rubbed at the one in his palm nervously. Dejectedly, he left, deciding to go home. Proceeding directly to the underground dispatching hub area he boarded the express pneumatic coach home. He was devastated. He felt violated. The more he thought about it all, the greater the pressure to panic and run. I cant run! I always am there for my family. After about fifteen minutes, his head slumped down as he sobbed into his chest. The coach shot along at four hundred miles per hour toward his destination. A stranger across the aisle from him asked gently. What is the trouble, son? Wally saw through his tears that it was a small older man whose

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weathered face smiled brightly at him. The man seemed to have trouble moving his left arm holding it stiffly at his side. Like a bursting dam, Wally poured it all out to that old man. The man was sympathetic, trying to console him with, Now, now it will all work out, you know. His smile was a fixed front of good cheer. Wally wound down. The old man rose to exit. He patted Wally lightly on the arm, moved his head close to Wallys left ear, suddenly sharply hissing venomously under his breath. Run son! Get the hell out of Dodge. Dont let them fuckers stick implants in your body. Dont do it, boy. Wally was astonished at this impassioned attack. The old man fled out of the coach exit without looking back. Wally disembarked at his stop. Bewildered, he tried to cheer himself up by taking a cab instead of the usual local electric bus. It cost fifty dollars but it took only fifteen minutes rather than the long slow drag of the bus for over sixty-five minutes. He had recovered his crust of composure and although sniffled on an off, sat back in the cab and closed his eyes. Before he knew it the young cabbie snapped, Here you are pard. Slamming to a stop. Wally got out slowly, paid him, and walked unhurriedly into his apartment building. The smiling doorman held the door open for him as always. Wally took the elevator to the eighteenth floor. He entered their comfortable apartment, seeing his usual familiar life laid out. He called out, Lucy, honey, I am home. The silence remained; no answer was heard so he went into the kitchen. It was neat and empty. Opening the wall cooler he took his special Sunday bottle of beer out of is private hiding spot and gulped it down in three big slugs. He got another Sunday beer and sat down at the table. Whoosh, went the front door. Seconds later, in swept his wife Lucy. Entering the kitchen she stopped, startled to see him, saying, Why, Wally what are you doing home so early? Oh, never mind. I have to leave soon, but now we can have dinner together for a change, and you can tell me while we eat. She turned on the lighting panels, busying herself with selecting the prepared dishes out of the wall cooler and setting their places. She laid out disposable napkins, the salt and pepper shakers along with the usual disposable utensils.

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Wally watched her slender figure flit about the kitchen area and was amazed that after twenty-five years of marriage she had never gained weight, not an ounce. It was unnatural. After flash defrosting the dinners, she poured each of them, a glass of cold bottled water and sat down opposite him, Now eat your nice dinner salad, and you can even have a half of cookie for desert with your fresh melon balls, but no more beer, you understand me. I dont know what gets into you sometimes with all that awful beer. He understood, only too well. He picked at his salad. Finally, uncontrollably, he blurted out in a torrent of words, the whole, sad story of his impending mandatory operation. Hoping desperately, that she would become irate. Then defensively tell him to quit his damn job. She ate steadily while he babbled on. When he sputtered out of words, with a sweet smile on her face, she replied simply, Well, Wally how wonderful! Its so great! They are giving you a special executive operation. That is just grand, so grand and so generous of them. Why its like a promotion sort of? I am so proud of you honey! He gulped down her rejection and whined, But you dont understand! I am being fitted out for a control mechanism that will not allow me to overeat. Lucky you! Sounds great to me. I wonder if we could all get one. But Lucy, a control mechanism! They will control my appetite, tastes and eating. I will not have any say in any of it, ever again! I will be just a, a robotic eater. A human, - portable garbage disposal. She assumed a suitably sympathetic look, like one you would give a whimpering sick child, saying tolerantly, Look Wally, we have been fighting about your weight for over three years and you refused to follow any of my suggestions and insisted on over eating, scarfing down cakes, chips, doughnuts and snacking. Not to mention your precious disgusting SUNDAY BEERS. Your organization, in your own best interests I might add, is offering you a way to comply with the national obesity standards, keep your job and enjoy our long awaited dream vacation. Just be thankful, darling, you were not fired on the spot like poor Harriet McGuire in my canasta club. Canasta club Harriet who what are you talking about? Wally was bewildered by her blatant lack of concern for him.

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I told you last week, Wally. Poor thing, she worked at the Garret Industries as a communications operations supervisor. She had problems with her obesity index. Then her husband died. She ballooned up to over one hundred seventy-five pounds and they canned her big ass on the spot. She has already been relocated to the middle states somewhere, to live with her aging mother. I told you that! Dont you ever listen to me Wally? Really, you are too much. Wally at a total loss, looked blankly at her. They seemed to be oceans apart anymore. He so wanted her to hug him close and reassure him he would not die under the knife. She blithely continued, Oh, by the way, Bens career mentor called this morning. He has re-projected Bens life plan based on his recently attained national record at the mid-state track meet and he will be leaving right after graduation next month to work in Canada for the summer. Oh, and his athletic scholarship is in the bag. So, after Canada he will be attending Havalina College of the Ozarks, in Arkansas and will be on the Olympic team in the following year. Oh, I am so proud of that boy! Yes, so am I but now he is all grown up and gone. Just like our daughters Hazel and Samantha. I mean we never even hear from them anymore. His son Ben and he were at odds due to his fathers weight problem and had been for years. Ben was like a Greek God and weighed within his obesity index at all times. Wally was sad to hear the news of his departure but on the other hand, he hardly knew Ben anymore. They had grown into strangers. Gone were those fun evenings watching movies, eating popcorn, and playing loud fart games when Lucy was out. Just like his daughters, who went off on their career-planned paths without a look back and seemed to disappear from Wally and Lucys lives, so busy with their own success. He had fought with Lucy about signing them into the Federal Mentoring Program (FMP) but of course she had to have her way. After they agreed and were bound by the contract they found out how little input they still had in their childrens lives. Lucy had heard all this before. Wally had trouble accepting the federal career planning process and realizing that his children were no longer his concern. They were launched on mandatory careers by the federal government, which would provide guidance for them now for a life time guaranteed career.

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Lucy methodically finished every leaf of her salad, cleared her plates into the steam cleaning appliance and said, I am going to the bingo game and will be back late. Hopefully, with lots of money. She flashed a leer of greed. I will sleep late so dont wake me when you get up to go for your operation. Call me when it is over, honey. I am sure it will be just fine. Yes dear. He looked down at his partially picked over salad and felt like tossing it at the wall. He wanted a big steak and baked potato. God! I havent had those in years. Oh, have a great recovery. I will see you when you return on Tuesday all slim and cute. I dont want to be! Wally pouted. Well now it just might make you more charming. She said with a twinkle in her eye. Charming? I am charming. He protested. Yes dear, of course you are in your own way, but a slimmer version may be what we need to get more, you knowinvolved. What do you mean? Wally stammered. You know what I mean! You might be more appealing to me thin rather than all mash-potato lumpy. Oh. I see. Wally was crushed. She left. The front door whooshed closed. Wally sat slumped over all alone. She didnt even need to tell him to clean up his dishes; he had been trained to do that long ago. Wally cleared away his plates dumping the left over salad into the organic disposal processor. Watching it silently disappear. If only I could do that with my fat. Then putting the glass wear in the steam cleaner and the plastic wear in the trash compactor, he washed down the counter with fast drying antibacterial spray. He nibbled at his half of cookie then righteously grabbed the remaining five cookies out of the package and bolted them all down, spraying a shower of crumbs as he walked. He went into the living room to sulk, plopping down on the large sofa to watch the huge wall plasma monitor and forget about tomorrow. He was a FATTY!

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He didnt care that the political correct designation was weight challenged; it was all the same to him. His organization was going to chop him up and control his eating! What next? Mind control? Lucy was on their side and thought he wasnt sexy anymore. His daughters were launched on their careers, and his son was off on his own career path with not so much as a, by your leave. What kind of world is this? What kind of family is this? Where did it all go so wrong? His pulsating pillow alarm went off at seven Saturday morning. He had a restless night, tossing and turning. Getting up quickly, he got ready quietly without turning on the bedroom light so not to disturb his sleeping wife. Going into the kitchen, he almost forgot and had some fruit juice and toast; but caught himself in time and stopped. No food after midnight he had been drilled. He watched the morning TV news until it was time to leave. He turned the monitor off, left the silent apartment behind him heading downstairs. The elevator was empty on this early Saturday morning. When he hit the lobby, the doorman said brightly, They are waiting for you Mr. Slaten. The white Medical Van out in front. Thanks. The day was cool and bright, but he ignored it. He tried to hurry but his legs felt like lead. He reached the new white hydrogen powered Medical Van with his organization logo tastefully displayed on the side. The door swung open and he stroked the van identification panel as the bored driver waited. The green light blinked and he climbed aboard to find a lone seat in the back. Three other strain-faced bulky people were solitarily hunched over in their van seats. He suspected that there would be more. No one looked up at him. They were reduced to a deep trance state, like pale, eye-less mannequins. Sitting, he closed his eyes and tried to relax but saw visions of strangers tweaking his appetite controls and him leaping up spitting out his favorite food. It was not that he liked to eat so much, but that he just gave into his desires for high carb and sugar foods and certainly was not much of an athlete. He intellectually knew it would be better to be thinner. I mean I have been brain washed by the organization for over ten years at the quarterly health fair productions and anti- obesity education presentations. Wally never thought it would be him. That they were talking about. He was the enemy. He was the fatty.

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The Medial Van stopped there more times. Several other mannequin faced people boarded. None looked happy. They sat in their seats looking down at their newly discovered feet. No sounds were heard but the vans canned music, which was sweet and low. He wondered how much fun his long anticipated vacation would be if he could not eat his full. Tacos, burritos, enchiladas, chili, carna asida, ceviche, frijoles, guacamole, salsa and chips; prepared by world renown chefs: no more his to enjoy. Not to mention beer! My God! How I will miss all that? It would be a miserable, just a miserable vacation trip. Jealously watching the others enjoy the tantalizing food. Wally was trying to adjust to this malevolent twist of fate, like a man, but felt on the verge of tearing up again. No one understood! They were slowly stripping away his free will. Eventually they would totally control him like a tin headed robot. Well, I will be an obesity index acceptable robot at least! He sneered to himself. The van swerved to a bouncing stop! The cowering passengers were tossed about and shaken. A loud thump and jarring shudder brought the van to a stop. Something had struck the side of the van. Startled, everyone was regaining their positions, looking out to see what had happened. The van driver admonished, Just keep seated folks. Everything is Ok. The highway police are on the way. A service truck will remove the vehicle that struck us before you know it. We are fine, just fine. Wally relaxed. The van door exploded inward with a loud whistle. The door crashed into the van driver, knocking him unconscious. Ceiling lights began flashing red. A recording repeatedly shrieked out a warning, Stop! You are in violation of corporate order fifteen dash six. Illegal regress into a federal vehicle. A punishable crime. Warning! Warning! Two large women dressed in strange jump suits climbed aboard, their bright red full lips grinning. Wow, Wally hadnt seen a woman like that in over twenty years. They had long hair and were plump, truly full-bodied. I bet they exceed their obesity indexes by a mile! Look Chrissie! More little guinea pigs on their way to market! One of the women screamed. Then she squealed loudly like a pig. Oink-oink-oinky!

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Listen to me little piggys! We are here to liberate your pudgy asses. Dont let these corporate devils defile your body and control you for the rest of your miserable lives. Come with us. Join us and eat what you choose. Assert your dignity! We are members of the FFFI! FAT FREEDOM FIGHTERS INTERNATIONAL. Rah, hoh! We eat what we want, when we want and the hell with federal obesity indexes. They can go stuff them! We openly defy the unconstitutional obesity laws oppressing our society. We live a life of love, freedom and food happiness. Brothers and sisters, we want you to join with us. This is your last chance before they electronically modify your flabby ass. The frightened van passengers were furtively looking to the others for some sign. Wally was terrified! He had heard rumors of this group for years and how they had food orgies. They ate almost anything and ran rampant in the northern mountains. Wally had dismissed them as just wild rumors; just another silly urban myth. He was trying to look small and avoid their eyes when the blonde-haired woman approached him and said loudly, Well how about it big boy. Ready to be a man? You come with us and we will give you a cholesterol packing pizza and some real full body contact loving you can be my honey-ham man. Her dancing eyes fascinated him while her warm laughter filled the van. He looked around, desperately hoping she was talking to someone else. She touched his arm. He felt a surge of electricity leap through him as he looked into her deep green eyes. Energized, he felt alive, and immediately attracted to her. Without knowing what he was doing, he stood. She embraced him tightly. Her body heat excited him. She kissed him hard on the lips then pushed him down the aisle toward the exit door. He stumbled toward the smoldering exit door, hearing others rustling behind him. Wally jumped down into the street. A wailing siren in the distance was growing louder. Wally was grabbed by two stocky men and towed away toward a vehicle in the back of a nearby alley. Wally moved rapidly down the alley hearing footsteps behind him. He jumped into the large graffiti painted bus and rushed to the back. Six others were already aboard, and when he turned to sit five more were hurriedly crowding on

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board. Before they were seated, the door whooshed shut. A voice yelled, Hang on people we are going for the mountains. We will be safe there and no one can ever control you again. My God what have I done? I am now an outlaw member of the FFFI! As the bus accelerated, he felt invigorated! Someone thrust a huge hunk of hoagie sandwich into his hand. He looked at it for a moment and then tore off a big chunk, chewing it vigorously. The cold cuts and condiments were delightful! A cheer went up! The others broke out in a glorious song of liberation. The bus veered forward passing other vehicles. It was hot and humid in the fleeing bus. The odors of food, perspiration, fragrant perfume and beer tightly engulfed him. Appearing out of the crowd, the blonde haired women came at him, pushed up against him. Her hot breathe was filling his ear and she seemed to be purring. Her meaty arm snaked tightly around his neck while her fragrant perfume flooded his senses. Beaming at him, she ate him up with her large smoldering green eyes. Her moist lips caressed his cheek. The tip of her tongue was traveling slowly toward his open mouth.

The End

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