We tend to move our lives in imperceptible ways, a tad to the left then back to the right again, until we notice we may have not made any real progress at all. Dora, our protagonist of last week’s episode, also felt her life was going in circles. Then she heard the voice of Dr. Adcock, a scientist being interviewed on Progressive Nebraska Radio about IBS’s, ignorant-based calories relentlessly entering our bodies, useless sources of energy that mess with us mind, body and spirit. Dora’s life was about to change, as Dora tries to get her question in front of expert Dr. Adcock and unlock the secrets of her unremarkable, ignorant-based diet.
Sitting at her kitchen table, Dora stared at her computer screen, and as she began to type her first words to Dr. Adcock, an overwhelming sense of sadness overtook her. While she had tried every self-help course and diet plan imaginable, even a cabbage and water plan for a month, she could not shake the feeling that there was something wrong with her physique and constitution. It was like a physical cloud of shame hanging over her, like a nasty spell that she could not shake. The thought that there may be some mysterious unhealthy force at work in her own body was driving her to get her question aired on Progressive Nebraska Radio with Dr. Adcock. She began to type.
Dear Dr. Adcock:
I was driving home from work today when I heard your interview on PNR. I almost had to pull over when I realized that all of the shame, I’ve been carrying all these years about my body could be a result of some mysterious and needless energy source, the Ignorant-based calories you mentioned last week. I am desperate to find myself again and to get some control over my life, and I believe your research may hold the key for me. Out of respect for your time, I will go straight to my question: What is wrong with me? Do any of us have control over our lives, or are ignorant calories you referred to in you interview on the verge of defeating us all?
Yours truly,
Dora from Trendy-Mart
Dora’s stopped and looked at her message, and then, with a wish and a prayer, she hit the send key, closed her laptop, and headed to bed. The rest was up to cyberspace.
The sun had barely etched through her window when she heard her phone vibrating across her bedside table.
“He..hello. Hello,” Dora answered.
“Hello, this is Progressive Nebraska Radio,” came the automated voice. Please press the pound key if your birthday is November 4, 2001.”
Dora had to think about it, but hurriedly fumbled for the pound key. She heard a click on the other end and thought she’d been disconnected.
“Miss Hubbard? May I speak to Miss Hubbard please,” came a female voice.
“This is me, I mean it is her. I’m Dora.”
“Miss Hubbard,” this is PNR, Progressive Nebraska Radio. We received your question late last night and Dr. Adcock would like to speak to you on our show today. Would you be ok with talking to her live…today?”
“Today? Really?” Dora said, jumping out of bed, “You mean Dr. Adcock took my question? Well, yes! Yes, I’ll talk!”
“We go on the air in three minutes, and we’ll call you back just before you go on the air with her, ok?”
“Three hours? Ok I’ll be ready…”
“No, no Miss Hubbard, three minutes. Can you take the call in three minutes? We’ll call you right back in three…” and before Dora could even answer the station manager had hung up. Dora scrambled out of bed in a panic, starting her coffee, racing back across her apartment to throw on a pair of jean and t-shirt, but no sooner had she fluffed her hair, the phone was ringing again.
“And now our next caller,” she heard a radio voice say, “is a woman who wrote to us with an urgent question, one that addresses an issue of concern for our expert, Dr. Adcock, a pioneer in the study of ignorant-based caloric intake and sustenance research. Our caller today has a lifetime of struggling with some deep-seated shame about her body and is hoping Dr. Adcock may be able to turn things around for her. What do you think doctor?
“Yes, I read Dora’s pleas for help and indeed it sounds like there are some ignorant-base calories unaccounted for. Dora, Dora?” Dr. Adcock called out, “Are you on the line?”
“Ahem, hi, hello, this is Dora. Thank you for returning my email and for having me on your show today.”
“Well, welcome to PNR. Glad you could be with us. How are you doing right now?”
“Well, I haven’t had my coffee yet, but I’m ok.”
“I understand you listened to our last broadcast, and were hit with a startling realization,” said the doctor. “Can you tell us a bit more? How can I help you?”
“Uh, well. I was driving home, listening to you talk about these needless calories from bee stings and toothpaste backwash and realized that you may hold some answers for me. We’d just been talking at work…I work at the Trendy-Mart… about the calories in unlicked envelopes, and I suddenly realized I may be under the influence of those IBS’s you talked about.”
“Yes, yes, I understand, Dora, and you are not alone. But there is help. It sounds like you’ve tried about everything you can to get your weight under control, but somethings missing here I feel. Did I hear you say that you work at a discount store?”
“Uh, yes, I do,” Dora replied.
“I may be mistaken, but could it be possible that you are in contact with a lot of rather, not to be insulting, but rather untidy surroundings?”
“Oh, its filthy there,” Dora stated, with a disgusted tone, “I mean, the place needs to be hosed down.”
“Just as I thought. Dora, and I think I know your problem. You are getting your ignorant calories, hundreds of them each day from the ingesting of prehistoric micrometeor dust,” the doctor postulated.
“Meteor what?” You mean like the space type? Are you saying I’m eating small meteors made of ancient dust?”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking, you are!”
In her tiny apartment, Dora felt the urge to cough several times, and leaned over to put her air purifier on high.
“I thought asteroids were way out there in space?” Dora winced.
“Yes,” the doctor continued, “but they break down into tiny bits and fall to earth over time and, well, Dora, and for all my listeners out there, new research has just been done involving the composition of common dust, and you know what we found?”
“I can’t imagine,” Dora excitedly answered.
“We found that the small particles that make up a common dust bunny are exactly the same as those found in meteorites, and in fact they are constantly entering our atmosphere in small chunks, building up in little piles.”
“Oh my,” Dora said, “Lately, they’ve been working me in Lawn and Garden, and I’ve noticed a ton of dust out there. Do you think…?”
“Dora, I don’t think, I know! You’ve been succumbing to a concentrated dusting of micrometeorites and all their traces minerals, especially, I suspect, palladium, one of the worst offenders of ignorant calories. Palladium in itself is not so bad, but it tends to weigh us down and makes us feel lethargic. Have you been feeling sluggish lately?”
“Well, I just got out of bed, but at work I don’t seem to have any energy…”
“…and do you feel the urge to shower all the time?”
“All the time, and I even rinse off at lunch time!”
“Well, there you go, Dora! I believe that you are a victim of meteor dusting, specifically palladium poisoning. You are being blasted with meteor dust, and your body is collecting it! I bet your IBS score has skyrocketed lately.”
“You mean I’m hoarding cosmic dust and carrying it around all day?” Dora exclaimed?
“Well, yes, in a matter of sp….”
“What do I do with all my palladium? Am I poisonous or contagious? How long do I have to live? Oh, no, no…Should I notify my next of kin or quit my job or give my cat to a friend?!”
Dora was whimpering now and heard the doctor’s voice fading away…
“Doctor?! Are you there?! Help me! I don’t want to die ignorant! I’m not a cosmic hoarder, really, I’m not. Help me please, help me…” Dora groaned.
She felt the gentle hand of Mr. Clemendorf on her shoulder, shaking her…
“Dora, Dora. You’re here, Dora, wake up. It’s me, Mr. Clemendorf. Dora? Dora?”
“Wh..wh… what?” Dora said, sitting up to brush off her clothes. Have I been poisoned by a meteor?” Am I dead?”
“Dead? But your pay is gonna be docked if you don’t wake up and get back to work. Break’s over.”
Mr. Clemendorf grabbed his Diet Coke dropping from the vending machine, turning back to Dora before he left. “Hey,” he said, “we’re switching you to Appliances this afternoon, so, let’s get out there, ok? Appliances! Let’s go!”
Dora wiped her eyes and looked around, still trying to shake off the voice of Dr. Adcock. She wasn’t dying after all, not from envelopes, or bee stings or meteor dust. Suddenly she didn’t feel ignorant at all, but ready to tackle the afternoon. As she turned to clock back in, the late afternoon sun shone across the break room table revealing a thin layer of dust. Dora stopped for a moment to look, and then shook her head.
“Not my dust, not my problem,” she thought, grabbing her ID badge, “I’m in Appliances today.”