Gluttony

Chuck was big. Corpulent, robust, sturdy, a bit too much so would be on the generous side. It seemed to go right past him though. He made no complaints about his size, looks he received or shortness of breath when he had to climb the stairs to his bedroom.

He was doing this now. Climbing, stopping every few steps to rest without any impatience evident. He reached the head of the stairs and turned right into his bedroom. He sat down on his bed first thing, and took a few resting moments. Then he slowly removed most of his clothes without leaving the bed. They were thrown, one by one into the laundry hamper that had long ago been put in the appropriate place for a nearly 100 percent hit record. None of his clothes missed the mark this time either. He lay down and got down to the most enjoyable part of going to bed: the hidden stash. He regularly ate a large amount of food openly, in public, without apologizing for his habits at all, but this was different. He was private about this meal. He opened his night stand drawer and took out the cellophane wrapper. He opened it slowly, extracting the Twinkies inside, being careful to not squeeze out any of the filling before he could put it in his mouth. He was very practiced at this. The Twinkie was put lovingly on his tongue and pushed most of the way into his mouth before his lips closed around the small cake and he began to slowly chew the whole thing. The first one was carefully finished, and the second one came out and was eaten in the same manner. Those were his favorite. He was sorry he didn't have the willpower to save the favorite things for last, but it was all enjoyable. Next out of the drawer was the bag of peanut M&M's. These were more of a chewy treat, but he loved the contrast of melting chocolate with chewy peanut to finish off the taste. The next to be savored were the jelly candies. So much better than jelly beans, these were big and chewy with a wonderful pure sugar coating. Last to come out of the drawer was the caramel corn in the bag. He loved to have this sugar-salt flavor in his mouth when he drifted off to sleep, which he did, shortly thereafter.

Chuck slept fitfully, with his stomach rumbling every so often but it wasn't uncomfortable. He had guided himself to use some of this semi sleep to dream of savoring different flavors and textures on his tongue and against the roof of his mouth. He wove light plots of store clerks, theme parks, and vending machines in amongst the food themes. The morning came, and he slept through most of it, waking most of the way into the mid morning.

The morning was his least favorite part of the day. As easy as it was to disrobe in the evening, it was difficult for him to put on his clothes. He did so slowly, sitting down in the large chair specially placed in his walk in closet. Halfway through the ordeal his maid/caretaker called up to him.

"Chuck, I'm fixing your eggs now. Come down when you're ready", Randy said.

He didn't bother to answer. They knew each other too well by now. Chuck knew the eggs would be perfectly done, started just minutes before, when Randy had heard him get up.

Randy had been with Chuck for 2 years now. He was the only helper Chuck had ever had that had stayed on and seemed to enjoy the work. Chuck kept him because he never told him to eat less, or he should exercise or lose weight.

He finished putting on his clothes, taking his time, and then looked around for anything he might need from his bedroom for the rest of the day. He hated going without anything he wanted because he could only stand to tackle those stairs one time a day. He couldn't see anything he needed so he walked down the stairs leaning on the banister heavily as he came down.

Chuck had his eggs done as usual. He dug into them with enjoyment, then started on the bacon, ham, buttered English Muffin, and orange juice.

When he was done he went over to the bag Randy had put together for him, said "Thanks", and went out to his company van.

He had the perfect job. He never needed to leave his van except for using the bathroom. He just went around to all the fast food restaurants and sampled their food. He was hired by the Food and Drug Administration to keep up with the latest combo meals, cost, taste, and speed of service. He had insisted on a van when he had been approached about the position. They had acquiesced and now he had all the room he needed to spread out all his reports, folders, and food comparison charts; then throw his trash in the back.

The van was pretty filthy. Randy had seen it one afternoon and had done the unthinkable ... taken his keys one morning and cleaned it out. It had bothered him a lot. It had lost that stale French fry and ketchup smell he loved, and his papers were organized and that confused him. He and Randy had had words about that; but in the end Randy had insisted and Chuck had given in to a once a month cleaning.

Chuck knew he lived the life of a king. He could eat freely on the job and get paid to do it. He could even pay someone to do his grocery shopping and errands and he didn't have to go anywhere.

That was about to change.

Randy opened up Chuck's mail as usual that morning after Chuck had left. His paycheck was the usual amount which he would deposit later that day. But below the check, as usual when there was some communication from the FDA, was a note. It read, "Due to the governmental budget cuts mandated by Congress we have to eliminate some positions. Unfortunately your job was not deemed necessary in the final analysis and therefore this will be your last paycheck. We will keep you in mind for future hiring." Randy wasn't particularly surprised... he had thought the job was too good to be true for Chuck; and to be paid so much with a food budget on top of that, he hadn't known such jobs existed. Randy started to think about looking for another job if Chuck couldn't keep him on.

He set the statement in the pile of things for Chuck to go through. Then he finished cleaning up, and left to deposit the paycheck and do the daily grocery shopping.

Chuck came home later that day and went to the couch. Randy had set out his afternoon snack on the coffee table. He started in on the bagels, butter and jelly. Then he turned on the TV and flipped through until he found a show he liked. Then came the Hawaiian style potato chips and the sour cream dip. The paper pile had gotten to the falling over stage so he started reading and tossing the advertisements, credit card solicitations, and pizza numbers. He came to the pay stub, checked out his pay amount and then almost tossed it out when his eye caught the note at the bottom and he read the layoff notice.

He was stunned. He had been doing such a great job for the FDA. All his reports were in on time, and he had been giving excellent recommendations. He tossed the notice in the garbage and threw the rest of the stack on the floor.

He madly kept flipping through the channels, not finding anything to hold his interest with so much swirling through his head: he just wanted to make enough money to keep eating what he wanted to, and he wanted to eat while he was doing it. No hassles, no fat free food, no sugar free food, just the good stuff. He couldn't keep doing this. He threw the remote at the TV and threw himself sideways into the couch crying. He had lost his appetite. Unbelievable. He didn't move. When he got tired, he slept.

Randy came around later and saw him sleeping and made dinner while he still slept. He was sure Chuck had seen the layoff notice because the snack wasn't even finished. When dinner was done, he gently woke Chuck.

Chuck's eyes were bloodshot from the crying. He blubbered a little: "Randy, I don't know what to do. I don't WANT to find another job. I'm hungry. Is dinner ready?"

"Yeah, it's ready. Come into the kitchen." Randy said.

They both sat down to the large meal. There were banana muffins with butter, corn on the cob, steaks, baked potatoes, potato salad and coke. The meal cheered Chuck up somewhat.

After dinner Randy cleaned up and put together Chuck's after dinner snack. Chuck ate it later while watching TV, trying not to think about all his problems. He went huffing up the stairs to bed that night and got out his stash. He would have to replenish it tomorrow; it was running low. He went to sleep with dreams of scarecrow men running after him with Twinkies in their hands., He couldn't run any faster and fell down with the men running right over him and they smeared him with their Twinkies.

He slept fitfully and woke gratefully until he remembered what he had to deal with. "I'll just have to get on welfare. I don't want to deal with another job." he said to himself.

After breakfast he took off in his van as usual and took advantage of his food expense money to go to his first drive through. He thoroughly enjoyed the hamburger, fries and shake and then drove to the welfare office. He went in and waited in the lines while his feet ached horribly and his stomach rumbled. He finally got through the lines and set up with an income. He knew it was much less than he needed to keep him as well fed as he wanted to be, but maybe he could cut down on Randy's hours and have Randy get him more TV dinners instead.

He cut his day short and drove home. Who was going to care? Randy had gotten back from grocery shopping. Chuck told Randy he was going to have to cut down on his hours if he was going to continue to be able to pay for his food.

Randy said OK, but he needed to look for a full time job because he couldn't live very well on a part time salary.

Chuck spent the rest of the day in front of the TV relaxing and eating snacks as he was hungry. Randy had laid everything out for him before he left for the afternoon. Chuck decided he could get by doing this ... he could live on less income and Randy could just leave him more readymade food.

Randy came back that evening to cook dinner. At dinner time he broke his news to Chuck.

"I found another job already. My brother's friend wants to hire me as a handyman for the next few months around their new house. I'll even have a place to stay."

Chuck said he was pleased for Randy, but looked very disappointed.

"When do you start?" Chuck asked.

"Tomorrow" Randy said.

Chuck looked away so Randy couldn't see the way his eyes had started to water. "That's good for you." he said.

Randy cleaned up in silence, and Chuck went back to the TV. Randy left later that evening before Chuck had gone up to bed but didn't even say goodbye because Chuck had fallen asleep in front of the TV.

Chuck woke up later, and dragged himself up the stairs.

He ate the last of his stash, and went to sleep. This time he slept without dreaming.

In the morning he woke, but couldn't think of any reason to get dressed. He went downstairs in his pajamas and made himself some hard scrambled eggs, and burned bacon. He grabbed the rest of the bagel bag and the butter and jam and went to the couch to eat it. He stayed on the couch for most of the morning, too depressed to get up and do something about the rumbling in his stomach.

He finally couldn't stand it any more, so he got up and went into the kitchen to get some food. He thought it was silly to keep going back and forth so he just carded back armloads of food and put it under the coffee table. He remembered to carry back a few plates, utensils, and a can opener so he wouldn't have to go back again for a while. He ate canned refried beans, and beets, and the rest of the jam jar. When he got full enough to stop eating for a break, he settled back on the couch again.

The phone rang.

It was the welfare department, calling to say they had a job offer for him, and could he come down to the office to get the details? "What would I be doing?" he asked.

"It's a job as a waiter at the local fish house."

He knew he couldn't do that. He'd rather lose all his Twinkies than have to walk around for more than an hour.

He said he couldn't do it, and was informed that if he declined then he wasn't eligible for welfare. He said OK.

While he was at the phone he decided to call the local grocery store and have them deliver a full load of groceries. He didn't know how much longer he could afford that.

The delivery boy came one and a half hours later and hauled in 15 bags of groceries. He paid him and then left the groceries right in the living room where the delivery boy had set them down. Chuck didn't seem to care any more.

He sat at the couch all that evening and ate and ate and ate. He didn't care if the food should have been cooked first. The hot dogs went down fine cold, and the spinach had thawed out most of the way anyway by the time he ate that. The lettuce tasted fine with the dressing mixed into the bag. He didn't bother to take anything back into the fridge. He would probably eat it before it didn't taste good anymore.

He fell asleep at the couch listening to a late show. He slept again without dreaming. When he woke he managed the effort to get to the bathroom and then just went back to the couch. The food still tasted fine to him. He did get up once to get a load of refrigerator food from the kitchen. The day just seemed to slip by, program after program, food after food. Another day went by.

He didn't notice much. The phone rang once, but the machine picked up a telemarketer so he didn't bother to even erase the message. Chuck thought he was doing fine. He still had food.

He started getting stomach cramps the next day and had to spend a lot of time in the bathroom. He missed his food when he had to stay in there for a few hours. The doorbell rang so he tried dragging himself to the door in time but he didn't make it. So he collapsed back in the living room.

Chuck became confused and disoriented, feverish, and started to hallucinate. The food looked like it was growing moldy appendages and moving amoebae like around the living room floor. He didn't know what was real or not. He lost consciousness at about the fourth day.

The sixth day the doorbell rang. It didn't stop. It was Randy. He knew Chuck was home and started to worry about him. When no one answered he went home and called the police. Half an hour later he met the policemen in the front of Chuck's house. When they got no response, they went around and pried open a window in the back.

The smell was bad. They found Chuck in the living room, sprawled on the floor littered with food. He had vomited while unconscious and choked to death.

The police called for the morgue to take him away. He was a big one.