You employ Cap'n Crunch at one of the newer Pennsylvania State prisons. He's struggled (some might say "brownied") his way into the prized position of top kitchen steward, the guy who bosses the prisoner slave-labor to make and serve the meals to the prisoners. Like many others employed in the prisons, Cap'n Crunch is a martinet, one of those amusing fellows who likes to dress-up and strut around in uniform. Intoxicated with his own importance, the glorified mess-cook dresses up in a captain's uniform. He'd carry a 45 caliber side-arm and a swagger-stick if he could ge away with it. He has to settle for a monogrammed ladle. When Cap'n Crunch was promoted into his important position he resolved to make a name for himself. Not being too bright, he though that public employees get praise by "saving" tax money. It's very important to him to win the admiration of his fellow state drones; it's that adolescent peer pressure business which most guys outgrow before they reach Cap'n Crunch's ripe age. In order to attract attention to himself, Cap'n Crunch decided to starve the prisoners he was supposed to be feeding. He dreamed up ways to "save" money by serving substandard foods and much less of it. True, the prisoners have no way to feed themselves, they must rely on the prison messhall. It's also true that meals are a critical element in the peaceful order of a prison, but Cap'n Crunch didn't care. He wanted to be noticed by his peers and superiors. He wanted to be important. The chief kitchen steward bought cheaper foods, unedible foods, even spoiled foods. He drastically reduced the rations served to the prisoners. The inmates complained, but Cap'n Crunch didn't care, In only a few months he "saved" thousands of dollars from the prisoners' food budget. He was a great success, a very important prison culinary potentate. But, what to do with the "savings?" He couldn't report the savings to Central Office in Camp Hill. That would only result in less money in next year's budget. The money had to be squandered in some way which would make Cap'n Crunch appear like a great fellow to his peers, but not benefit the prisoners. So, we come to Cap'n Crunch's Sundae Bar! The kitchen potentate served feasts and banquets to the prison staff. The foods and money stolen from the prisoners was spent on the prison staff, five days of feasts at taxpayer expense. At the heart of the festivities was a sundae bar. Cap'n Crunch spent hundreds of tax dollars to buy a hundred and fifty gallons of premium ice cream, a half a gallon for each prison employee. That's ten times as much as is fed to the 1300 prisoners when they are lucky enough to get their bargain brand. The sundaes went with the daily cake, cookies and soft drinks. The guards got lasagna, spaghetti, ravioli, omelets, sausage and on and on; three meals a day, five days a week, paid for by the taxpayers and stolen from the prisoners. The prisoners got stew which contained a little meat of unknown origin. The guards got Swedish meatballs. For good measure, the Potentate invited all old retired prison guards back to share in the feasts. Cap'n Crunch was a great success. He was very important and admired by eveyone except for the prisoners who were fed "cheese grits," course hominy into which processed cheese melted.