Short Stories that Tie Together with the Italics

1929, the United States economy is in a wreck as The Great Depression plummets the stock market by a hundred points. The population is hungry and unemployed as the debt rises out of control.

The presentation hall was packed; all five sections of Madam Veal's Kitchen and Dining class were seated before my friends Flay and Bobby. The presentation begins as Bobby opens his dry mouth and begins speaking about the intricacies of creating the Grilled Kobe Steak. "Preheat the oven to ninety nine" - but he was cut off as a pale hand shot through the air, the hand of Witty Wilma, and she giggles, "Is Kobe Bryant in this?" Bobby's knees lock as the blood starts to rush to his face. A small percentage of the class lets out quiet snickers as Bobby seems speechless standing in front of almost a hundred people; he cannot seem to come up with a response to such a witty comment. Hours seem to fly by. Okay; so that is exaggerated, it was probably more like a minute before Flay picked up where Bobby left off with an over exaggerated, "Okay!" and they continue with their lovely presentation, Flay with his newfound ego of saving Bobby's stuttering persona, and Bobby with a hot face and shaky knees. As Flay ended up conducting most of the rest of the presentation, Bobby mentally shoots himself as he thinks of ways to become less shy and more confident.

As the twentieth century kicks off to a start, the great European powers have established alliances with each other and the tension is strung tightly. And then, Archduke Franz Ferdinand is assassinated.

Sitting around all day and getting fat off of doughnuts can sure be fun; actually, the only thing that could possibly be better would be to go to work at Home Depot selling air conditioning! Sadly, work is where I am at and I sit at my table with my Starbucks Venti Caramel Frappacino, ready to start the two hour shift that drags along in a way that can only be explained as a snail's pace. When you are this bored and surrounded by such a large variety of people, you just cannot help but people watch.

Now I have always heard the saying that America is an obese nation compared to other countries in the world, and I have always, sadly, found truth in this saying. I have been working at this part-time job for over three months now and every day of work I am constantly observing the traffic of cows. I have never even fully realized how much of an obesity problem America had until I took up this job; at least in high school, kids are self conscious enough about impressing the opposite sex to take five minutes out of their eating cycle to hit the weights or jog. The following was a change of pace, and believe me, very real; I do not even have anything against fat people, this is just a recollection of what went through my head.

As I began my two hour shift of sipping my high end Starbucks and whale watching, a rather unpleasant sight passed before my eyes. Like many of the other people who pass by my table on a daily basis, this woman was, by human standards, huge (though by American standards, just a little bit over average). She was also sipping on Starbucks but that is not why I present her to you. Trailing a few steps behind her, and also sipping on a frappacino while eating what seemed to have been a cream filled Krispy Kreme doughnut, was what I could only describe to be a baby manatee. This little girl (age wise), must have been no older than eight years old and weighed no less than two hundred pounds while standing only at around 4'10". Unfortunately, the situation was further worsened by the way her mother dressed her; the term "muffin top" would be a horrible understatement.

Needless to say, after witnessing this situation where harpoons could have almost been a necessity, I took a quick glimpse at my Venti Caramel Frappacino and a significantly longer look at my love handles. Tea from Starbucks just seems so much more appetizing now.

As The Great Depression reaches its height, Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected President of the United States. Roosevelt creates the FDIC and SIC as part of his New Deal.

"My new truck, let me show you it," Bobby exclaims to Flay. "These rims? They are THIRTY TWO'S I'm telling you. Brand new white Dodge and it is packin' nearly three million horsepower. Do you have any idea how much I can tow with this baby?! Of course, it is also raised an additional five feet with my awesome suspension system. I even need a portable ladder just to hop into the driver's seat! Let us take it for a ride. We will get girls, I kid you not my man!" A flash of hesitation sneaks its way into Bobby's thoughts, but he willfully pushes it out and embarks on his trip to exhibit his truck.

Bobby drives the truck into the campus parking lot at the busiest time of the day: three o' clock, exactly four minutes after school has ended and everyone has a chance to make it to their car. After all, who would see his awesome truck if he came right after class when people were still squinting their eyes to light outside of the classrooms? He starts revving his engines as a crowd of spectators gather around and marvel at his truck. Bobby is the center of attention. He is happy.

Another truck pulls into the parking lot, driven by Witty Wilma's boyfriend, Scuba Steve with an additional three girls in the back of the truck. Scuba Steve drives in a big circle and leaves black tire marks as the crowd shifts from Bobby's truck to Steve's truck. Bobby is no longer the center of attention; he is annoyed and decides to fix the situation by revving loudly at Scuba Steve, aggravating him as they decide to race their enormous trucks. Because of the added weight of three girls in the back of Steve's truck, Bobby wins the race by a margin and the crowd once again crowds around Bobby's truck. Bobby is the center of attention once again. He is happy. Who would have ever thought that this is the same Bobby that froze up in front of a cooking audience no more than two years ago?

World War I had devastating casualties, and the country that suffered the most was undoubtedly Russia, who alone had 6.7 million casualties. This number rose when Russia was thrown into a civil war before World War I concluded. Thus, the USSR emerged and became a world power until nearly the end of the twentieth century.

My breath is short and my whole body aches, well, except for my legs, which just burn with the buildup of lactic acid as I push myself to the limit. And it is about to get worse: the road up ahead is obviously going to start inclining. I have been doing high intensity interval training for the past two weeks and it is starting to pay off, the scale says so, and so does the IKEA mirror and the measuring tape that I took from my mother's sewing kit. Just think about it: a few minutes of excruciating burn and soreness in my legs, and perhaps a muscle cramp... or two, compared to spending my life approaching the limit that I now know in mathematics to be the Baby Manatee Limit; this is not a difficult choice at all. As I thought this, I looked up the hill that will soon make me wish I did not have determination or motivation and I realized that maybe the choice was a little bit difficult but nonetheless, I stuck to it. I will not let myself end up like the eight year old hippopotamus that I saw at work last week.

The big three corporations of the United States: Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler have been practicing bad business and marketing for the past twenty years and it shows. If they are bailed out, will they change and improve?

Failure is a beautiful thing; it should be welcomed, not feared. There are two types of people in this world and they are determined by how they accept failure: realization or depression. Let us not delve into depression, because depression is obviously quite a depressing topic. Realization, on the other hand, is the most important factor deciding which steps in life you will take next. Failure is wonderful because it causes the realization that you are not yet good enough and, even though everyone knows that no one is perfect, it takes failure or some other event to bring out the realization that, just maybe, you might just fall into the category of "not perfect". Your fast is not fast enough, your strong is not strong enough, your wits are not witty enough, your confidence is not confident enough and the list just goes on. Sometimes it does not take failure to come to a realization that you are not good enough, but failure is usually that final lever that is pulled, the one where every instinct is screaming in your body that if you do not change now, you will go nowhere. Certain events, such as failure, or in depth thought and observance can lead to realization, and from there, the sky is the limit.