"We're tired of complaining!" cried a male resident of Imperial County, Calif., responding to a recent outbreak of a not-seen-before 'Complaining Virus' that afflicted citizens of the surrounding towns.
The virus was highly contagious and spread from adults to children with rapid aggressiveness. Within hours of the first reported case, the entire town began to complain. They complained about the government. They complained about their jobs. They complained about their parents. One child was interviewed by a local CNN affiliate: "My parents have told me, 'I love you' for my entire life. It's an unoriginal phrase, really. Why can't my parents be more creative? Huh? And why is this interview so boring?"
Doctors hadn't seen anything like it. Thankfully, they were in immediate contact with a candy manufacturer in Chicago, Ill. "It's not a cure, necessarily, but we've figured out how to halt the spread of this virus, and, strangely enough, that prevention method is Lemonheads. Lots and lots of Lemonheads," said one specialist in Los Angeles.
Bite-sized, tart, long lasting-the lemon candies would need to be delivered by the cases. And Stew Weber-truck driver, Chicago resident, die-hard Cubs fan-was the man for the job. "These people needed help. And, yeah, this was the longest trip I've had to make, but it was worth it. These people were in serious trouble," said Weber.
Weber was no stranger to complaining, and boasted that boxes of Lemonheads had "saved his life" in 2012 after watching the Cubs see their worst season since 1966.
So, on the road he went, towing over five thousand pounds of the lemony candies. He would have to log over two thousand miles of flatlands, mountains and desert to reach the complaining victims of Imperial County, Calif. No small feat. But regardless of how important his delivery, Weber was committed to following protocol on Hours-of-Service regulations. "Really, a box of those Lemonheads would have kept me going the whole way, but my EOBR (electric on-board recorder) made sure I knew when to take a nap, when to take a break," said Weber. "Heck, that thing made sure I didn't eat too many Lemonheads. That would've made me too content."
Upon arrival, residents complained. Weber's truck was too loud. He looked a bit too healthy after traveling so many miles. He ought to have looked more tired. They didn't like the way "Chicago" sounded. And though the contents of the truck would save their lives, Weber went unassisted as he manually unloaded box after box of Lemonheads. "Oh, fine," infected citizens replied, as Weber hand-delivered boxes of Lemonheads to households and refused to leave until citizens agreed to taste the candy.
The results were incredible. "Thanks," one victim said after a minute of eating Lemonheads. Soon after Weber's arrival, the complaining stopped across the county. "How could this be?" one doctor said in an interview. "Three ounces of lemony goodness, and we've prevented an outbreak that was sure to bring this country to its knees."
"I'm just doing my job," Weber responded. "When you witness a Cubs season as bad as 2012, you start caring about people. It's weird, you want to help after so much disappointment." The residents of Imperial County are reluctantly thankful for Weber's help. Actually, no, they aren't. They're pretty indifferent to everything. But at least they no longer complain.
