A Wartime Fudge Story

Dateline: Baghdad Iraq 11/6/08.

11/4/08: Fudge arrives in insured package. Postal worker enquires as to what is in insured package from Florida. I explain that it is most likely fudge from home. Why it is insured is the stuff legends are made of. Apparently, Florida Fudge, although not contraband in Iraq, has a hypnotic effect on government contractors in a war zone. I am warned by the postal worker to keep this confidential and not to tell anyone else I have said fudge. I choose not to heed her warning and open the package publically in my office that contains three women. I am immediately forced to dawn Ear-Plugs as the Oo's and Awww's build to a chocolate mouth filled crescendo. I am forced to insist on only one piece per person as there are a generous 17 pieces in the package. The disappointment builds when i am forced to lock the fudge within my desk. Since I also had a piece, there are now 13 pieces. By 5pm the office is in a fever pitch in protest over the non-rationing of the remaining pieces. To make matters worse, the department head had shown up and demanded to inspect the package for defective or damaged pieces. The remaining pieces are photographed, numbered, and each is carefully documented for cut, color, quality, and size. Two pieces mysteriously disappear during the auditing process and the department manager is suspiciously unable to whistle for 15 minutes.

11/5/08: Day two...a quiet calm has descended as the office occupants take on the character of a reality TV show: Outwit, outplay, outlast seems to be the order of the day. Various scams take place to capture the desk keys as well as favors of all types being offered for the remaining 10 pieces. I neglected to mention that one disappeared when I first entered the office in the morning. I was also suspiciously unable to whistle for approximately seven minutes. By one o'clock, at least a dozen senior personnel have come by to "just say hi." This is the most contact I have had from senior management outside of meetings. I am forced to turn away all request until a uniformed soldier, just from outside the wire, asks "please' for a single piece of fudge. There are 5 left by the time the package has been opened and the office staff insists, good for one, good for all. Again, i am suspiciously unable to whistle for 7 minutes. By early afternoon, I am forced to give all but two pieces away for the most terrible of fudge emergencies:

  1. I am having an insulin attack and need fudge immediately or I could die
  2. Give me a piece or you're going home
  3. I need to verify this fudge is legal
  4. Having so many pieces in one place is dangerous for moral
  5. The enemy can hone mortars in on high concentrations of sugar
  6. The actual quote "Give me a piece of fudge, or give me death!." (True story)
  7. "You know the keys to the drawer cause an unnatural bulge in your pocket.I'll hold them for you."

    11/6/08: Day three...today. I am forced to give up one of the final two pieces to a senior manager whose dog has died. I find out later in the day that the dog died the previous year. This causes me to give up the final piece as a reward for said information. This only leaves the crumbs in the bottom of the container which suspiciously disappear when the cleaning staff comes in to mop the floor. I am visited later that day by the postal worker who informs me the exact number of days it will take if more fudge is actually sent today.

    Support the war effort: make more fudge Mom!