The Annual Meeting

A door opens and closes. Footsteps ring out across the hard wooden floor. There is the slap and whistle of a posterior coming to rest on cushioned seat, followed closely by the clearing of a throat.

“A-hem. Good afternoon everybody. I would like towelcome you all to the seventh annual meeting of the Society Of Invisible Persons. Before we get down to business I just want to thank you all for coming down here. I know how difficult a journey it can be for some of you.”

“Will there be coffee?”

“Who said that?”

“I did. Michael Jones.”

“Well, Jones, you know the rules. If you have a question put your hand up.”

“My hand is up.”

“Oh. Well in answer to your question, yes, there will be coffee available Now, before we continue , are there any other questions?”

In the silence the wind outside can be heard clearly. It seems louder than it was before the meeting started.

“No questions at all?”

Somewhere in the distance, a car engine fails to start.

“Is there even anyone there?”

“Yes.”

“Besides you, Jones.

The ticking of the wall clock seemes louder and more deafening than ever before.

“Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“I guess so.”

“Why don’t we continue the meeting in the pub?”

“That’s a great idea! Except…”

“What?”

“How will we get served?”

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Schmurgen Jonerhaffs

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