“Excuse me ma’am”, says the guy in the black suit, stopping a chubby, middle-aged woman on her way to her car with an arm full of groceries, “But are you Mrs. Godfry?”
“Yes”, she replies with a drawn face, “But it’s Ms. now.”
“We would like to speak to you about your late husband, Ms. Godfrey.”
“Who are you?”
“We’re with the F.B.I. Don’t look alarmed, Ms. Godfrey. Your husband did nothing wrong. We are just performing a minor investigation.”
“What do you want?” asks the woman after a few seconds of thinking and readjusting the heavy bag.
“Well ma’am, we were just wondering if your husbands personality changed before his death, or if he developed any unusual characteristics.”
“Well, no. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Please ma’am, anything at all unusual, even something that may seem unimportant.”
“Well, he did develop… well, you might think me crazy, but he yawned more often. Like, every couple of minutes he would yawn. Every day. Even when not tired.”
The guy in the suit whispered something into his lapel.
“Thank you for the information ma’am, that will be all.” And a long black Cadillac screams up beside the guy in the black suit, the door swings open and he glides in as the car howls away.
And it continued this way for months, the F.B.I. sorting through thousands of deaths across the country, while a war raged in the Middle East. What seemed silly to the citizens being interrogated, was in fact, vital research into what seemed to be an epidemic of yawning occurring indiscriminately. Thousands of people are confirmed to have contracted the ‘Yawning’ bug, but all dead. There have been no living samples found and the F.B.I. are feeling the pressure from the president for results.
“Yes, your late wife sir.”
“Why, she be yawing the whole damn time.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Did your son…
And so it went on.
“The Presidents on line two.”
The director was noticeable shaking and he hoped it wouldn’t transfer down the telephone line to the President. But he had a solution, even if it was a little unorthodox, he should work. It had to work.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Good Mr. President. But she’s as worried about this as the rest of us.”
“Thank you Mr. President. Yes, she enjoyed cooking it as much as you enjoyed eating it.”
“Yes, I know, Mr. President.”
“Well, Mr. President, my men worked on it and we only have one viable solution, although you may not like it.”
“Okay Mr. President, are you sitting down.”
“We need to promote a more sedate, immobile lifestyle amongst our fellow countrymen so, that they won’t overexert themselves. But it has to be done subliminally, so that nobody notices the change. We don’t want people angry at your administration for encouraging kids to watch more television, Mr. President…”
Ten Years Later
“… Obesity is affecting one is ten Americans today with Philadelphia, officially, the fattest city in America…”
“The President, line two.”
The Director was nervous. He had to answer for one of his predecessor’s mistakes, and therein was the problem. He had no answer.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Yes, I know Mr. President, but she doesn’t normally cook that type of meat. She’s a vegetarian, you see.”
“I know, Mr. President.”
“Well, Mr. President, the plan was implemented my predecessor and the ex-President, your father. They didn’t foresee obesity as a problem that would effect our great nation.”
“No Mr. President, it means that people weigh too much.”
“Yes, Mr. President, it’s a case of the flubbly jubblies.