The Nutty Bits

It was a night like any other. Wet and soppy. Maybe not like any other night.

Batrius was in a mood. For food. Whatnots? Why not?

“Blast this joint! What ails me?” He opined. “Got to spruce this place up!”

“Rinky-dinky-do!” yelled Blattodea. “Here’s to whatnots, and why not!”

“A plague on you, Blattodea!” yelled Batrius. “All you want is to go blotto! I’m into realfun™ The finer things. Linen, polite company, scintillating conversations…”

“Boring people, useless ideas, things that don’t chug-a-lug?”

Batrius smacked her one. It was just a touch that sent Blattodea spinning. Not that anyone noticed, the bar was so all-encompassing, chocolate brown, with nutty bits like Batrius and Blattodea. And Neopteran and Dictyoptera. Not to mention Bactrocera and Dorsalis. (The scuttlebutt was that Batrius and Bactrocera would hook up, but Dorsalis would gainsay that!)

“That’s not decided!” screeched Dorsalis. “What you sayin’ about me?”

“Who?”

“YOU!”

#

I had to whisper from that moment on. Your secret reporter who, when pressed, must acknowledge not the slightest knowledge or even the inclination to be an interloper.

But someone must be. You can’t leave everything to the sods who haven’t the slightest understanding of a bar and its exquisite delights.

It's not just any bar we are talking about here. It’s the home of everyone important! How we live in bars, talk and dream about them! Quite a pastime for some.

I can’t quite understand it. The finest product of a civilized society is a bar that makes everyone feel at home! Pull up a chair, screech and moan your day away, and delight in the finer things, such as they are…

“You done?” slobbered Batrius.

 I had to move away from him as best I could. Politely, of course.

“I’m done,” I said, pronouncing each word with the disdain worthy of such as Batrius appeared to be. Yet I took pity. There was yet hope!

“Did you read my pamphlet?” I inquired ever so delicately.

“What! Realfun™. Of course! I was just speaking about it to Blattodea! Crazy good stuff! When do we get started?”

“Well, you must leave this bar! No one can make a positive change in their lives without changing where their bad habits took root!”

“Oh, I can flit about as well as anyone!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

#

It was the next day. Or night. Sorry about that. You get so involved in the lives of others that time hardly matters. A bar never has a clock! It is all-consuming! One moment, you are having a delicious time, and then real life intrudes.

“You again!” yelled Batrius.

He looked like he never left the place! Sodden, covered with refuse and waste. Disgusting. He had his head cocked, like a cocker spaniel. Or a spaniel with its head cocked. Or I’m going off half-cocked. I must get a grip…

“I’m ready for my first lesson on how to be uppity!” yelled Batrius.

“Realfun™ isn’t about being uppity!” I replied as I rifled through all the literature I had on hand. “Someone put that word into your head. Who was it?”

“Blattodea!”

“And she is not here tonight?” Here’s another pamphlet for her.”

“Sure! She’s somewhere! She fought with Dorsalis! It wasn’t a catfight! But close to something like that!”

My head was spinning. Why, oh, why do I get the worst assignments? Realfunny™ was the nickname I gave to the company I worked for—a name I used with a straight face at times like this.

“Get a grip. Batrius! Where is she?”

“You first!”

“Just tell me where she is. I already have a grip.”

“Gripe, you mean!”

His mouth was open, slime drooling from his teeth. This was a joke, I guess. Such as it was. The smell from his mouth was overwhelming. I tried to laugh but started choking instead. Batrius patted me on the back. My new suit!

“There you are, Blattodea!” said Batrius as he peered under the counter where we were standing. “You showed up from under the table! At just the right moment!”

“There there, whoever you are,” she cooed. Let Mama take the load off your feet! You are trying so hard to help us! Don’t think we don’t appreciate it!”

I passed out as Blattodea enveloped me in her viscous tendrils, her stench quenching all interest in my surroundings.

#

When I came to, I wasn’t all tied up. I was fine. Really. Batrius and Blattodea were giving lessons to Bactrocera, Dorsalis, Neopteran, and Dictyoptera on how to be “uppity.”

Batrius noticed me first. “You pulled an all-nighter and weren’t even under the table!”

I tried to smile. A crooked grin. Would this qualify as overtime? I would get paid, right? My suit was ruined, but the company would plunk for a new one. Maybe I was making progress. Shape their responses, the training literature said. “Uppity” could be shaped into “civilized.” With just a little effort, I could be on my way again.

#

The slop was in a huge hot cauldron, waiting to be poured. A new employee was stirring it.

“Hey, Mac! Get a load of this here! Are you sure you tested it?”

Mac didn’t like his nickname. But it beat being called Macintosh. He gave his new employee a strange look. “Of course, it’s tested! You can stop stirring it, too. No one does that anymore.”

“So, what was the result?”

The nerve. These young punks question everything! Mac thought. It was enough that he was getting so much heat from upstairs on production costs and product quality. The competition can get away with things. The rumors were that the inspectors were bought off. They all had second jobs. Hell, after retirement, they might come and work for us! That would be the day!

“What was the result?” the new employee repeated, cupping his hands to try to be heard over the noise in the factory.

“Seven!”

“Only seven?”

“Yup. Beats eight!”

The new employee shook his head. “Eight, what?”

“Eight is the standard—no more than eight per bar.

“Eight insect parts per chocolate bar!” laughed the new employee. “So that is how the bars get their crunch!”