buffet

I am a skinny man. I have always been one. My mother is skinny also, as is most of her family, so it is probably safe for me to assume that I will always be this way. I could probably figure out why, through some genetic trait that gives me a higher metabolic rate, but I find it oddly easier to simply label the cause of my lack of weight as inconsequential. Anyway, the cause is unreconcilable, and I must simply learn to deal with this horrible affliction.
Affliction? I don't understand, you may be thinking. Oh, yes being skinny has its advantages, and those out there who do not share my problem may be taking this as farcical theatrics, but I beg you to learn what horrors I feel from it. Listen to the story of a man who does not fit into his own society because of an innate quality out of his control. Hear the feeling of my story, one of a man at whom no advertisement campaign is directed. Learn the horror that I feel when I must turn down seconds and the embarrassment I go through when firsts are not even completed. But do not misunderstand me, I do not want your pity. I need nothing of the sort. You see, I am a man of action, and by being of such a disposition I find ways to avenge myself when I am wronged.
In my response to those I feel neglect me and my kind I liken myself to a political activist. Sure there is a shade of dark underworld dealings that my actions necesitate, and it is easy to see those and miss the point to my actions, but to do so would be a grave injustice. I also realize that the target of my avenging actions is only a small portion of my true enemy, but when people later view my actions in a historical context I feel they will see with what universality it can be applied to the rest of those wronging me. And in the future I will branch out and widen my scope of attack.
I am a buffet buster, or rather the head of the corp. My enemy and foe is the restaurants and eating establishments which surround me like kids around an ice cream dispenser. "All you can eat;" they say in a remotely spiteful way, they must realize that I lose in such a deal. I can't eat as much as the man next to me I respond, I should not pay as much, I don't have the same opportunity, its not fair. But my complaints fall on deaf ears. They thought that I was jesting, and I think that they had some sort of pleasure in seeing me squirm and complain, knowing that they were in control, that my voice could not be heard. But it is now heard, and if one was to determine who was in control now they would surely have to take a long look in my direction. Yes I am the leader of the buffet buster.
They print the slogans, and in so doing they court their own disaster. They dug their own grave, I merely was able to push them in. All you can eat, there is no asterisk at the end, no clause which excludes my action. I think of myself as merely a union official, someone able to organize the masses of consumers who individually have no voice. Together, however, we have a voice. And because of my organization things are being done. But I can not take all the credit, my troops deserve it as well. They are the unsung heroes of the cause. They are the momentum of my mind.
My champion and right hand man, Lester, is a perfect example of a professional buffet buster. He is the underdog, the man who at first glance you would not think could be a part of my team, but you have not seen him ankle deep in spent chicken wings and still asking for more. You have not seen the intensity with which he can attack a buffet line, knowing exactly which foods to hit first, and cleaning them out. He is by no means a skinny man, there is a plumpness about him, yet he is also far from large. But he eats well over his weight class. It was he who inspired the idea of the buffet busters in my mind.
It was a late night and I was in dire need of a meal, but to my anger the closest place to tide my famine with was a buffet joint. I despised buffets at this point in my life, an anger fueled by years of shame of being full after the obligatory salad plate. But I had no other choice, so I subsided my fury. I was seated in a good location, right next to the food. The place, I imagine because of the late hour, was empty except for one gentleman seated two tables down from me. It was Lester, and although I had caught him in mid-meal his performance that night was astounding. In the twenty minutes that it took me to fill up on my salad and small entree plate (as I said before I was rather famished) he had tore down four plates of mashed potatoes and roast beef. I sat in awe and watched the bewildered employees who were caught off guard by his insolent way of responding to their proddings about closing time with a resounding "I have not ate all that I can yet."
Although I had completed my meal, I felt compelled to stay and see just how much this man would eat. For a while I thought he would never stop. I am sure that the employees were thinking the same thing, I could tell by the open mouthed stares they gave relentlessly to his continued requests for more soda. But he eventually quit, I like to think out of sheer boredom rather then by some physical constraint. After he had finished and began to leave I took the chance to express my delight in his ability.
Lester, I came to find out, was a very interesting chap to say the least. He was without residence, a drifter it seemed. But he was not stupid, he was an educated man. He was quite proud of his eating ability, and responded to my appreciation for it with genuine humility. We quickly became friends and over the course of the next few weeks the two of us had conceived of the buffet busters. Sure, we had different motives, I was compelled out of a need to right an injustice and he simply loved to eat and piss people off. The two of us, over those few brainstorming weeks, devised a scheme by which we could make money off of Lester's stomach. We would arrive at a buffet just before it was closing and Lester would continue eating until they told us that we would have to leave. At first the rewards were just small change. We would get a free meal and gift vouchers for more free meals if we left. The managers were understandably angry and quite willing to dish out what ever it took so that they could get home. I don't think that you could really call us buffet busters at that time, we were more like buffet nuisances. But the idea had begun, and now we just needed to bolster our ranks with some recruitment.
You would be surprised with what ease you can start a good team of buffet busters. There is an endless amount of people out there who have the ability and desire to become involved. I went to soup kitchens and observed likely candidates who I later approached with offers. I used some of my social connections to get in touch with a group of semi-dissident ex football players who were wonderful eaters. I took many recruiting trips to various buffets, looking for prot�g�s and prospects, only offering jobs to those who had some special gift with a knife and fork. After a long month of looking I had a rugged band of rookies, 20 of them in all. They were an odd bunch; four big offensive linemen, a husband and wife duo who tipped the scale at a combined weight of 600 pounds, six scrappers with a similar build to Lester, three brothers who looked nearly identical but had completely different tastes in food, a older man who swore by his A1 sauce, and four lonely guys who I never saw eat but had the motivation in their eyes of men driven by an intense hunger. Yes, they were odd, but together, as a team, they were the buffet busters.