Notes on a Holiday Luncheon.

 

Embroiled as we were in the drama of a Holiday Luncheon, we thought it wise to begin adjusting our group expectations to life in near-term containment. I felt constrained to tell the person I'm mad at to consider whether 'getting ahead' is worth all it's made out to be, especially in outlying areas. She would like to think about slamming a door near someone whose opinion I value, but since I've already attached a note to her bottom shelf, we've all agreed that problems could stop mounting once we get time to take a leak. This would be a strictly private function, as is sometimes the case.

Our group meets near a bridge during a month like no other. Our Leader, who goes by Bill Toomis (not his real name) has purposely lengthened the time it takes to reach a firm consensus. He ushers each of us onto a rounded scheduling platform and pretends to communicate through pre-verbal formulae. This involves the alteration of specified tissue, to tempt one or all of us to back out at the most inopportune moment. I make my best effort to insinuate that these types of enjoyment are of limited issue, but fail miserably, as can be seen in abandoned dress factories the world over. Why does it feel like I'm saying this inside a pure-blooded spring? I'll tell you why: because it isn't. That's why!

There's a lad who tags along sometimes—this is when, with all the Summer heat, we've had it up to HERE! I took his Dad aside and warned him, in no uncertain terms, that he had to enroll his son into another temporary program. Also, he needed to restrict the boy's intake, or get busted trying. He looked deep within me in an effort to appeal to my better nature. I slotted him in for a 2:00 PM rebuke. His wife brought in some chewy snacks, so we sat down near a tree in a Park not far from here. He showed me a picture of his adopted turtle.  I asked if he'd be willing to take my wife to the movies (she's handicapped). He told me that he  thought I'd never ask. I said 'what took you so long?'. He stared at me with a dull gleam in his eye, coughed, and went to sleep. I never heard from him again. What a prick!

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