The blitzel stopped working. It started just fine: the engine whirred and the tumbler tumbled. But then, with a screech and a shudder, the machine gave up.

            The chief machbelly ran into the engine room, shouting, “The blitzel isn’t processing the data! The entire project will be ruined.” She glowered at the engineering staff, her face glowing redder than usual in the operating room’s lights.

            Stan, the operator, shrugged, shook his bald head, and flipped an entire row of switches, one by one. “Nothing’s working.” His deep voice reverberated around the room, echoing over and over, slowly fading into gibberish.

            “Try harder.” The chief machbelly placed her heavy hand on Stan’s shoulder.

            “I’m ding the best I can.” Stan’s voice dropped to a whimper.

            “Well, it’s not good enough. Fix it, or you’re fired.”

            Stan rolled his desk chair back two feet and stood, crossing his beefy arms over his huge belly.  “If you’re so velitious, you do it.”

            The chief machbelly crossed her arms over her chest, matching the engineer’s stance. Clearly a showdown was in place and she was determined to win. “You’re the operator, no, I mean engineer. I’m the boss.”

            Stan chuckled, shook his head, and said, “I’m out of here.”

            “If you leave, don’t comeback.”

            The door slowly shut, leaving the chief machbelly alone in the air-conditioned room, surrounded by numerous gauges and dials. She had never run the blitzel and knew nothing about how it worked, but she was determined to succeed.

            She rubbed her hands together, leaned over the console, located the compression dial and turned. One notch. Then two. She rotated the power knob to the left, the one click more.

            The blitzel remained silent.

            She tapped each of the ten gauges, saying through gritted teeth, “You must work. You must work.”

            The chief machbelly jumped back when the console shivered, groaned, squealed then emitted a blood-curdling yeow.

            Pressure increased, slowly, slowly, slowly. The power gauge moved upward. The voltage likewise increased.

            And then…and then, the blitzel roared to life.

            The chief machbelly rubbed her palms together. “I don’t need Stan or anyone else,” she said. And then smoke streamed out from under the desk. A nose-twitching stench that slowly filled the operating room.

            Flames reached toward the ceiling as the chief machbelly ran out of the room.

            Stan laughed at her smudged face.

            “I guess you do need me afterall.”

            The chief machbelly waved her right hand at the door. “Get in there and fix it. Now!”

            “Only if you give me a substantial raise.”

            The stench began filling the outer office.

After receiving a written promise, Stan returned to the operating room, a smug smile lighting up his face.