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The Nutrition State

By William J. Schuman

Chapter 1

    Adam walked onto the stage, his eyes blazing with excitement.
It was exactly 90 days since his inauguration and he had done
exactly as he had promised.  The Congress had done their job,
and the legislation was waiting to be signed into law,
as soon as he was sworn in.  The Nutrition Sanctions were in
place and enforced immediately.  Now he was going to give his
Special State of the Union Address to tell the country of the
wonderful results from forcing the American people to eat right.
It was for their own good, Adam had insisted and promised.
Food prices had only quadrupled.  They had not gone up ten to
twenty times, as predicted.  Yes, He would go down in history
as a hero, a savior, to the American People.

    Adam stepped up to the podium.  Cameras flashed and there
was a bustle of reporters below him.  They were all jockeying
for their final positions in the crowd.  Adam stood proudly
and grinned widely.  They can't wait to hear what I have to say,
he thought to himself.  They only needed a wise man to lead them.
That was all; all they ever needed. 

    "President Mickee!  President Mickee!  Can you explain why
me and my family are so hungry?"  The haggard reporter asked
from the left.

    Adam was startled.  Who had given that man permission to
speak?!  He thought to himself.  He then nodded ever so slightly
to the guards by the side door.  They immediately responded and
grabbed the man from behind.  Before he could say anything else,
one of the guards put his hand over his mouth and then twisted
his neck.  The reporter fell limply to the floor, and the guards
dragged him out of the side door.

    "That man obviously needs to go home and feed his family!"
Adam declared and roared with laughter.  He was overcome by his
own wit and stepped back from the podium, bending over as he
continued to snort and snicker.  The room filled with nervous
laughter in response.  Soon, everyone was laughing politely.
Everyone, except for Charles.  He was not amused.  He too was
hungry, and so were his wife and kids.

    Charles was a reporter for the New York Times.  He had been
invited, ordered, to attend and report on the Special State of
the Union address.  Charles was poised for taking notes and
scribbling down facts.  He was doing this as his stomach grumbled.
Man! I can't wait until the buffet after the news conference, he
thought to himself.  He felt the breast pocket of his suit.  The
doggy bags were still there.  Of course they were there.  His
wife had put them there and made him promise to bring home plenty
of food for the kids.  He had promised, and he was constantly
checking to make sure the bags were still in place.  He was
nervous about the possibility of not being able to pull it off.
Above all,he was determined to bring food home to his family.

    Adam regained his composure.  Good thing we made plans for
possible subversives, he thought to himself as he approached the
podium again.

    "My fellow Americans!"  Adam bellowed into the crowd.  Then
he immediately began spewing out the spin and pseudo facts that
were meant to convince the American people that they were better
off with the complete elimination of all "junk foods" and
processed foods.  They are now thinking clearly, and making
intelligent choices.  Adam droned on and on as everyone waited
patiently for him to finish.  All of the reporters were waiting,
waiting desperately, for the buffet to begin.
     
    "I wish he would finish with the psycho babble and open the
doors to the buffet."  Andy whispered to Charles.  Andy was a
buddy of Charles'.  He reported for the Washington Post.  Both
newspapers were owned by the same company, and that company was
a major contributor to the Mickee campaign.  

    "I hear that."  Charles whispered back as he glanced at the
double doors in the back of the room.  Guards were posted, and
they had rifles.  Charles thought that was highly unusual,
but not unexpected.

    Adam saw the restlessness in the crowd and became annoyed.
He abruptly stopped and looked at the crowd of reporters before
him.  No one dared to speak or raise a hand.

    "I guess you all agree.  Very well, lets celebrate!
Guards!  I mean Gentlemen!  Open the doors to the buffet!"
Adam shouted as he spread his hands wide towards the back
of the room.  

    The guards began opening the double doors, and two more
armed guards joined Adam on his right and his left side.
Everyone waited to see the much anticipated buffet table of
delicious foods.  Instead, what they saw were three crates
of tomatoes.
  
    "What?!  Where's all the food?!"  Adam muttered under
his breath.  "Where's the meat?!"  Adam asked of no one
in particular.
    "It's been outlawed."  The guard on the right informed him.
    "Oh.  That's right.  I forgot.  But, what about the cakes
and the cookies?!"  Adam asked.
    "Only for special occasions."  The other guard answered.
    "But this is a special occasion."  Adam insisted.
    "It's not on the list.  Special occasions consist of
weddings, birthdays . . . " The guard continued.
    "I know what's on the list!"  Adam snapped with disgust
to stop the guard from repeating the all too well known official
list of special occassions.  

    Adam and the guards stood watching the crowd, as everyone
made their way toward the double doors.  Only the people in the
back of the room were disappointed.  The others could not see
the buffet yet.

    "What about all the other foods?"  Adam asked absent mindedly.
    "This is all that was available, Sir."  The guard on the
left informed him.
    "Oh really?"  Adam said. "You two seem to know a lot about
the food services at the White House?"  He said, glaring at 
them with suspicion.

    The guards began to squirm.  They did not want the President
to know that everyone was discussing the scarcity of food,
even at the President's Address to the Nation.

    An elderly woman made her way to the buffet table and
grabbed a tomato.  She looked around and then started to grab
another one.  The guard, standing next to the table, raised
his rifle and jabbed the butt of it towards her hand.  She
flinched back and withdrew her hand.  She then tried to grab
a tomato from one of the other crates.  The guard then bashed
her in the face with the butt of his rifle.  The old woman
flew back and fell onto the floor, unconscious.  She was still
clenching the one tomato that she had managed to grab.  

    "Just where did they get the tomatoes?"  Adam asked,
determined to get an answer.
    "From your garden."  The guard said.
    "My garden!  You're giving away my tomatoes!"  Adam shouted
in a panic and then rushed off the front of the stage.  
    "Stop!"  Adam shouted.  "You can't give away my tomatoes!"
    
    Adam pushed his way through the crowd, desperately trying
to get to the back of the room and close the doors to the buffet.
He pushed and pushed until he came to the body of the old lady,
lying prostate on the floor.  Adam saw her go down with a tomato.
He was going to get it back!  He looked down, and the tomato
was gone!  Adam stepped over the lady and continued to push
toward the doors.
    
    When Adam finally came to the buffet table, the tomato
crates were empty.  Every last one of them was empty.
Andy and Charles were standing off to the side.  They were
just as disappointed as the President.  The reporters, however,
had to face their hungry families.  That was going to be the
truly devastating part of this much anticipated day.  

    Everyone watched as the President fell to his knees in
front of the buffet.  His head fell on the table next to the
middle crate and he sobbed uncontrollably.  His precious
tomatoes were gone.  He had used his custom designed organic
compost to grow them.  He had personally directed every day
of their growth and cultivation.  Now they were gone, all gone.
They were given away to the common man, and there was absolutely
nothing he could do about it.  
             

 
 

From the First Coast, this is the Nutrition Guardian, taking a stand for the common man! Look for the Guardian's website www.NutritionTruth.net

 

 


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