Page 35 - Like No Business I Know

King of the Franks
(Fantastic Transactions 2, 1997)

“Well, how about it, Doc?”
Russ Pepin finished buttoning up his shirt as he waddled into the
cardiologist’s consulting room. It was a bare-bones functional cube,
quite unlike Pepin’s own rococo office at One Pepin Towers.
“Sit down, Mr. Pepin.”
Dr. Zephulkar pointed to a vinyl-covered chair across from his
desk. As his patient slowly settled into its confines, he pushed an x-
ray into the clip of a fluorescent light box on the wall.
“You have the coronary arteries of a typical 55-year-old American
male,” began the doctor.
“Oh, good: I am 55 years old.”
Russ Pepin began to swing his legs, which did not reach the floor,
back and forth, his normal response in a seated position to good
news.
“Wrong, Mr. Pepin. I see in your chart that you have not had a
physical exam in several years. It is only the onset of symptoms that
brings you here today—am I correct?”
Russ Pepin began to feel some of those symptoms immediately,
but dismissed them as insubordinate. “I suppose so.” His legs
became rigid.
“Let us look at the facts. You are four feet nine inches tall and
weigh one hundred eighty-seven pounds. You are aerobically unfit
and your serum cholesterol is elevated. In short—” Dr. Zephulkar
tried to catch himself but it was too late. “In sum, you are an accident
waiting to happen. We have not discussed diet or stress. I am aware
that you are in the food business.”
“Yes.” The patient sat up straight and proud. “I am known as
Pepin the Short, King of the Franks. My hot dogs, sausages, and
lunch meat are found in every major supermarket in the country. My
image appears on every label. Children love me. I do my own
commercials. Have you seen them? The latest one is for a pre-
packaged school lunch called ‘Grub in a Tub.’ It’s got a bologna

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