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On a Monday morning, like any other Monday morning, Ferrah Wopiny, a single woman at a virgin age of 36, woke up with an insatiable hunger. She got out of her pajamas and put on her favorite dress, which was a size 48. She herself was a respectable size 56. Then she tied her black hair up in a light blue ribbon.

For Women's Rights

Just then, her boss, Mr. Mann, called her cell phone.

“Ms. Wopiny! Why aren't you at work yet?” he shouted.

“Mr. Mann, you don't have to yell. I'm still at home”

“Why?”

“I'm busy drinking Slim-Fast. I'm on a diet, you know.” Ferrah finished off her ninth can.

“I don't care, you fat pig! The world does not revolve around you! Or maybe it does. You have to get to work right now!”

“Don't call me names. It's very damaging to my self-esteem. And besides, it's because of my genes.”

“Well then, your corpulence, I'm glad you won't be breeding any time soon.” He hung up.

“Men are so mean,” Ferrah said to herself, “It's not my fault. When I'm sad, I eat. When I eat, I'm sad. One of these days, my friends and I will found a country and succeed from the U.S. We'll call this new country Ugogirl. It would be a haven for all heavyset and doughnut loving single women. And cheesecakes would be free.

Speaking of cheesecake, I'm still hungry. But it's okay for me to eat as much as I want because I just drank enough Slim-Fast to last twelve meals. That means that I can have twelve lunches and not gain any weight. I think I'll go to McDonalds.”

So she hopped into her car, a Geo Metro, and drove across the street.

“Walking is for old people,” she quoted.

But when she got there, there was a sign that said the drive-thru window was closed. She had to go inside instead.

“But the door is twenty feet away!” she cried. “That's a very long distance to walk.”

Five minutes later, she got inside and ordered the buffet meal. She got some food and walked over to a table to sit down.

“Oh, my. It's getting harder and harder to fit in these chairs,” moaned Ferrah. “It's not fair! This restaurant discriminates against us people of size. Everyone knows it's very bad to be prejudiced. They should offer us big-boned people wider chairs. I think I will sue McDonalds.”

She finished her first plate quickly and decided to get up and get more food. But there was a problem. She was stuck in her chair!

The manager heard her screams and rushed to her. “What are we gonna do?" he cried.”

“You're gonna get me out of this chair or I'll sue!”

“I know,” said the manager, “I'll get the burger flipper. His name is Mr. Newcomen. He's working here part-time to pay for college. Newcomen! Come here!”

“Yes boss,” said Mr. Newcomen.

“Get me out!” yelled Ferrah.

“Oh, I see,” laughed Newcomen. “You need my college education to help get you out. Well, you're in luck. I am making a steam powered pump for physics. Normally, it pumps water out of mines, but I think I can make a few adjustments. Then we can pump you out of that chair.”

So Newcomen set up his steam engine. His machine was a giant pump attached to a lever. The other side of the lever was attached to a piston. Underneath the piston was a water boiler, which produced steam. The steam would push the piston up and when it reached the end, water would be sprayed in which cooled the steam back to water. The cooling made a vacuum that forced the piston to go back down. This up and down motion made the pump move.

After he set it up, he attached the pump to Ferrah's rear end. But the pump was not strong enough to suck her behind out of the chair.

“I know,” exclaimed Newcomen. “I'll get my friend Mr. Watt.”

“I'm right here,” said Watt. “Newcomen, I think I can make some improvements.” He then set out to change Newcomen's steam engine by adding another cylinder around the piston chamber. So, instead of the steam being cooled inside the chamber, it is cooled in another chamber called a condenser. The condenser is what makes the vacuum that sucks the piston back down. By changing the rate of condensation, he was able to make the engine go faster or slower. His machine was different because he didn't have to put cold water into the piston chamber. This way the chamber stays hot and pressurized, and the boiler does not have to waste energy to re-pressurize. Some would say that it was a more efficient machine.

“I also found a way to make the pumping motion into a circular motion,” said Watt. “Since we can't pump her out, maybe we should use the circular motion to unscrew her out of the chair.”

But Ferrah's giant rear end would not budge one inch from the chair.

“My God, woman, why don't you just lose some weight?” asked the manager.

“I can't help it. It's my genes,” she replied.

“That's just something the doctor says to make you happy. You should start taking responsibility for your actions. Take it from me. Once I realized that ice cream was not a substitute for love, I lost fifty pounds.”

By now, all the geeks from the local college had arrived. One of them was named Carnot.

“I have an idea,” said Carnot. “I have a theory, called the Carnot cycle which should make your engine more powerful by increasing efficiency. The heat released in the condenser can be used to heat up the water in the boiler. Also, the steam temperature should be much higher than the water. If you improve the engine like that, then it would be 100 percent efficient.”

“But there is one problem,” chimed in another geek named Rumford. “All this motion in the machine generates friction which would slow it down.”

“I don't understand,” said Carnot. “Caloric theory says the heat lost would go directly to heat gained.”

“First, to understand, you must first dismiss Phlogistin theory.”

“Yes, I have. My buddy Lavoisier showed me that there was no such thing found in everything that turns stuff into ashes and removed as heat when burnt. That stuff is so 19th century.”

“Good. But your friend also insisted on the Caloric Theory. He claimed that caloric, or heat, is a fluid that flows from hot things to cold things. But back when I was working in Munich, I noticed something. We were boring cannons, that is, filing down metal into big guns. And all that rubbing and filing gave off a lot of heat. There was so much heat that we had to bore underwater, but it still produced so much heat that the water boiled. This meant that the amount of heat produced was greater than heat input. But your friend said caloric couldn't be created. That means that the only way heat could be created was from all the work energy we spent boring the cannons.

I checked this out with my friend Mayer, who agreed. In fact, he said that heat is just motion. He showed me a horse that powered a pulp stirrer. Then he calculated the amount of heat generated in the stirrer and found that in relation to the work exerted by the horse. This means he found a mechanical equivalence of heat.

Therefore, your machine would not work because the heat from friction would make it less efficient.”

“Okay, I am beginning to understand. But can you elaborate on Mayer's Mechanical Theory?”

“I don't care!” interrupted Ferrah, “just get me out of this chair!”

“Quiet, you!” answered all the college geeks.

“Carnot, I think I can help you,” said Joule, the 20 to 25 year-old white middle-class Starbucks drinking Volkswagen driver. “I made a machine where a falling weight powered paddles in an insulated water container. The spinning paddles heated up the water, which meant that Caloric Theory truly is wrong. It turns out that the potential energy of the weight equals the energy that was required to change the temperature of the water. Therefore, about 41.8 million ergs of work will raise the temperature of a pound of water one-degree Fahrenheit. I have thus unified heat and energy, but what am I going to call the units? I think 'joule' would be nice.”

“That's great, Mr. Joule. But I'm still stuck,” complained Ferrah.

At this moment, the immigrant janitor, Diego, approached Ferrah. He had with him a bucket of hamburger grease with him and poured it all over her... and the chair slipped right off.

“That's funny. All of us college guys can't get a women out of a chair, but the f.o.b. is the only one that remembers it's like greasing a pig,” commented Newcomen.

“Why, thank you,” said Diego, and in perfect English too. “Actually, energy is an abstract concept because it is only a way of looking at things. Unlike the mass or speed of an object, you can't see energy. But this is a good thing because if you can get abstract enough, you start to see relationships between different kinds of energies. You know, grand unification theories and the like." He pulled out a hamburger wrapper out of his pocket. Scribbled on the wrapper were some calculations. "Hey you guys, speaking of unification, if you look here, you can see how I have unified general relativity and quantum mechanics into a tidy little formula.”

Newcomen was quite surprised “Tell me, Diego, What's a janitor like you cheating us out of our future Nobel prizes for?”

“Well... ” began Diego.

“Everyone!” interrupted Ferrah, “especially you, Diego. Now since that I'm free, let's all go surfing!”

“I'm already packed!” exclaimed Mr. Mann, who had just arrived. “In fact, I've got a bus parked out front and there's room for everyone.”

“Even me?” asked Ferrah.

“Yes, Ms. Wopiny. I made a special seat just for you. You have taught me not to discriminate against gluttonous sloths.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mann. This is why I have loved you ever since I met you at the Weight Watchers' Convention.”

“Oh Ferrah, I love you too.”

Ferrah and Mr. Mann kissed, and the geeks smiled. And everyone lived happily ever after surfing all day.

The End.

Written by Dinah Cheshire
Exclusive property of www.applesanity.com