Energy Bar Manufacturer

Can you tell which part is filler?

Just one aspect of being at the helm of an international fitness corporation is developing a myriad of tie-in products to aid your paeons in more properly adhering to your regime, and thus achieving a greater degree of personal health/victory.  I began simply enough– with adsorbent sweatrags and undergarments, but I soon realized that all people trying to lose weight want to do is eat.  The only problem is– how do you eat and lose weight at the same time?  It’s impossible, and the Sturgeon General had just put the kibosh on my branded throat ticklers, so encouraging folks to eat as much of their favorite foods as they wanted was also an idea on the outs.

“What to do?” I asked Rupert Everett, III, my personal drinking monkey at the time as he downed a scotch and soda and gesticulated healf-heartedly for a stogie.  “Rupie Evie, that’s already been done, and by that hypocrite the Sturgeon General himself.  The next thing I know, I’ll have him coming after me for copyright infringement.  Smoking is solely the province of the medical profession, and buddy, do they have a lock on that market.”  (Fun fact!  9 out of 10 surgeons have controlling shares in tobacco plantations.)  So Rupert Everett, III and I chummily poured ourselves a few more drams of the malty liquor, toasted his dear old mother, Ruby Everett III, lord rest her soul, and beat back our collective woes as we rejected the boundaries of sleep.

The next morning I awoke, as was often the case in those days, under a familiar damp and comforting cardboard box– the former home of a Maytag appliance of similarly boxy proportions.  Then the answer hit me.  It was so obvious, it was trapping my breath in a little wet circle above my face.  Who ever said that the only thing you could eat was food?  Who needs a cookie, when you can have a vanilla-flavored simulacrum?  Who wants a delectable bowl of bran, when there’s grit aplenty that won’t go straight to your hips?  And with just as earthy a flavor?

I started out simply– with bars.  No, not the “local watering hole” variety– the kind that are more commonly associated with gold.  Long hunks of… whatever, really.  And did we ever put the whatever in those.  And did whoever ever lose weight!  A few even wound up on IV drips for up to a week, followed by liquid diets and life-transforming loss of weight as a result of my energy bars.  It was a great success not just for me, but for the field of dietetics.  The sea-change I effected in the nutritional psyche can’t be underestimated.

So the next time you and your drinking monkey are out on the town, raise your glasses to me, and Rupert Everett III, lord rest his sweet simian soul.


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