The Dinner Roll

This has been around a while, but worth reading again, and maybe even more pertinent now~! This is a satirical piece with a timely message.

The Dinner Roll

 

Once upon a time I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the President.

I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics.

There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a FREE country. There’s nothing that the government can do to me if I’ve broken no laws. My wealth was EARNED honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American President is an honor.

I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the President in a yellow dining room.

We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.

The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen..

“Sorry ’bout that,” said the President. “Andrew is very hungry.”

“I don’t appreciate…” I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll.

“Of course,” I concluded, and reached for my glass.

Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp. “And his brother, Eric, is very thirsty,” said the President.

I didn’t say anything. The president is testing my compassion, I thought. I withheld my comments and decided to play along. I didn’t want to seem unkind.

My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.

“Eric’s children are also quite hungry.”

With a lurch, I crashed to the floor; my chair had been pulled out from under me.

“And their grandmother can’t stand for long.”

I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool. Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, only to find it  had been taken. I turned back to the President.

“Their grandfather doesn’t like the cold.”

I wanted to shout, “that was my coat!” But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuck led.

Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table.

I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished and my wife had been thrown out of our home.

Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The President hadn’t moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone and turned to face him.

He said, “Andrew’s whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven’t planned for retirement and they need a home. They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your home. They need it more than you do.”

My hands were shaking. I felt faint as I stumbled back to the table and collapsed on the floor.

The President cheerfully ate his steak and drank his wine.

“By the way,” he said, “I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I’m firing you as head of your business. I’ll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind.  There’s a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there, and they can’t come to you for jobs, groveling like beggars… We need to spread YOUR wealth around…”

I looked up. The President drained the last drops of wine. As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair.

He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if it were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss.

I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle.

Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us.

What had I done wrong?

As if answering the unspoken thought, President Obama suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands.

“You should have stopped me at the dinner roll.”

WAKE UP, AMERICA !

~ ~  oOo  ~ ~

It speaks for itself.

.
~ ~  Grouchy  ~ ~

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10 Responses to The Dinner Roll

  1. Terry says:

    A great analogy, GF.
    And oddly enough, this happens to me all the time. Just not in the WH.

  2. Mrs AL says:

    I just hope and pray that America wakes up in time, Grouchy. This is accurate to a T and it’s frightening, to say the least. And if the country doesn’t wake up within a precious short amount of time, she will only have herself to blame.

    Thanx so much for posting.

  3. Hardnox says:

    Excellent post and a perfect analogy.

  4. Clyde says:

    Good one, GF, and more true than you’d want to believe. This reminds me of the series that Pepperhawk did at her place.

  5. There’s too much smoke for there not to be fire, Clyde. The question then begs asked, “Who has the Fire Hose?”
    Good to see you.

  6. Kathy says:

    Good story. I’d say we’re up to the missing wallet and we’d better figure out something fast.