Fast Freud

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Fried Freud

Off in an alternate timeline to our own dimension, Sigmund Freud opened a restaurant instead of going into psychology. He built a great restaurant called "Fried Frued" and served many deliciously fat foods. His masterpiece of the menu was his sausages. His mix of spices and meats kept people coming back time and again. The only problem was the occassional complaint. "This sausage is too big to eat in one sitting," a coustomer complained. Indeed, he'd noticed several people leaving portions of unfinished sausages. So he reduced the size of the sausage, and adjusted the price accordingly. Now, however, he had the opposite problem. "Still leaves you hungry for more," another customer complained. He played with the size, bouncing back and forth, trying to find the right size for a sausage. After almost a year of trial and error, his customers were tired of eating sausages that weren't the right size. His restaurant started loosing money, and in desparation he called on Ferdinand Feghoot.

Ferdinand was quick to arrive, and listened intently to his friend's problem. "I just can't get the right size!" Frued finally shouted in frustration. "Do you think it might represent an inadequacy of some kind? A problem with my father, perhaps?"

"Sigmund, Sigmund," Ferdinand said soothingly, "Even you should know that sometimes a sausage is just a sausage. I think I have the solution."

"Great!" Freud declared. "How big should they be?"

"I said I have a solution, not the answer," Ferdinand said with a smile. "I will need you to set the center table of the room, just as it would be for a customer eating a sausage. I must get something from my family space-time device, and I'll be back in a jiffy."

Freud did as he was instructed, and Ferdinand returned with a bottle of prune juice and a bottle of Castor Oil. He set the prune juice down on the first table as he entered the restaurant, crossed to the other side, and sat down with the Castor Oil.

Freud was befuddled and confused at this point, but Ferdinand made no attempt to explain. He simply sat down, stared at the center table, and took a quick swig from the Castor Oil bottle, and jotted down a number.

Freud winced at this, having recieved many a dose from his father when he was little. But Ferdinand seemed unaffected, and crossed the room to the table with the prune juice. He proceeded to follow the same process, staring at the center table for awhile, and taking a quick drink of prune juice and jotting down another number. Then he frantically wrote all over the paper, working some complex mathematics that Freud had never seen before. Finally he circled a number at the bottom of the page.

"There you are, Sigmund. Given that the density of your sausage is 1.25 grams per cubic centimeter, and given that the best diameter for a sausage is 32.5 millimeters, and after having calculated that 547.3 grams of sausage should be put on each plate, I recommend that you serve 5 links, each 17.15 millimeters in length. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must leave right away."

Ferdinand bolted for the door, leaving Freud a bit stunned and uncertain. He followed Ferdinand's advice, however, and his sausages became a greater success than ever before. There were no remaining peices of sausage on the plates, and no one complained of being overly full, or still being hungry. Everything went wonderfully.

About a month later Ferdinand returned to see how the restaurant was doing.

"Ferdinand!" Freud shouted in greeting. "It worked, Ferdinand. Everyone loves the size of the sausages. I just have to know, though, how did you figure out the proper size for the sausages?"

"I thought it would be obvious by my quick exit, dear Sigmund. I used a pair o' laxatives to determine the proper gastronomical unit!"

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