There was a monastery that operated under a code of silence. One day, there appeared on the bulletin board, signed by the abbot (actually, by the costello, who was the abbot's right-hand man), that declared a special day in honor of the community's 1,000 year of existence. It was declared that on this day, the eldest monk would be allowed to speak. The excitement was almost palpable as the day approached, with each resident wondering what would be said. On the appointed day, they assembled at breakfast in eager anticipation. The wait was extended as it took a bit of time for the eldest resident to get himself up and running for the day. Finally, he appeared, shuffled to his seat, and looked around at his fellow monks. He cleared his throat, worked his tongue around, and made a few unsuccessful attempts at speech. He finally got things working and said, "You know, I hate oatmeal." After this successful, if somewhat disappointing performance, the abbot decided that it would be good for morale if this were to be made a yearly event, with each monk being allowed his day, in descending order of age. A year passed, and again the anticipation was rampant. As the assembled throng waited, the second-oldest monk took his place, looked up, and said, "I really like oatmeal." Another year passed, and anticipation was very high since it was assumed that the speaker would now address a different topic. On the great day, the third-oldest monk looked about him and said, "I cannot take this constant bickering about the oatmeal and have decided to leave the order."
