Solving Charles

It is a well known fact, across the universe, that problems are constantly arising and being solved. But the real problem is that not all of these problems are solved. So the universe is left with an ever growing stack of lists. These lists consist of all the problems yet to be solved. Most of these problems arent solved because the people trying to solve them are thinking much to hard to solve a problem this simple and so the problem remains completely unsolved until someone dimwitted enough to solve it comes along and solves it. However, in todays universe most of the dimwits around are to busy doing dimwitted things like for instance, trying to figure out which nostril that booger is actually in or if the keys in their hand are the keys that were in their hand a few minutes ago. These of course, are not the problems plaguing the universe today, these are the problems plaguing the universes only hope in getting rid of the problems that plague it. And, if by any chance you happen to know someone who is incredibly dimwitted but still retains the ability to solve incredibly complex simple questions like "Why are we here to begin with?" and "What is that pink thing you're chewing?" then please report him to your local Dimwits United office so he can be put to work picking his nose or staring placidly at a set of keys.

Of course if you happen to know a dimwit like the one just described it is quite possible that he has already been to the D.U. office and has decided it's much to complicated for himself and left. But should you stumble upon him in the street feel free to point him in the general direction of the D.U. offices. But this story is not about the dimwitted, it is about a man who thinks he is dimwitted but is in fact quite brilliant and could solve all of the universes problems if he could only realize that he didnt have one of his own.

Charles Bumpkins, yes I said Bumpkins, works in a seventeen story high rise building, mostly occupied by law firms and insurance brokers, which means that although many hundreds of people worked there, only two or three people who didn't visited the building each day, two out of three of whom were quite likely there to inspect the well being of the building itself and not particularly concerned with the well being of Charles or any of the many hundreds of people who called that particular building their place of employment. However, if any of those two out of three people had cared to ask the man at the front desk in the main lobby on the first of those seventeen floors how his day was going he would have simply replied,"what?" so it doesn't much matter that noone was particularly concerned with poor Charles' well being because he didn't particularly care about theirs either. So it was all fair to him. But one midsummer thirteenth of april, a young man, who stood a good three inches taller then Charles, strolled in and asked on which of those impressive seventeen floors he might find one Charles Bumpkins. Of course this was the first time in his seven months of boring employment at this desk that anyone had strolled in and asked him where they could find him so he was at a bit of a loss for words, and all he could manage to say was,"what?"

"I said, I'm looking for Charles Bumpkins."

"He would be the guy at the front desk with the terribly placid look on his face, you can't miss him,"grumbled Charles, placidly.

"Oh! Well in that case I would love for you to come with me."

"Who? Why? and where?" grumbled charles, now working very hard to suppress the whoops of joy threatening to burst out of him at any second.

"Well,"started the man,"for starters, I am Glod Raggamuffin, you are Charles Bumpkins, or at least that's what I'm told, and I want you to come with me to a meeting so you can help me figure something out."

Charles' joyful whoops died in his throat and choked him mercilessly for about one point three seconds, at which time he proceeded to fake a continuation of the choking to buy more time to think up a reason why he couldnt possibly go to this meeting. He found none that sounded at all convincing and decided to comply with the man, who he now realized had a green tongue and very tight pants, and go to this so called meeting.

Uploaded 09/11/2008
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