The Plan
Meetings like this always put me on edge. Twenty minutes of circular discussion, a handful
of joints are passed about, and the only thing that gets accomplished is deciding what type of
food we're going to call out for. When I signed on for this they told me we'd be changing the
world, not sitting on our arses getting stoned all bloody day. We're supposed to be an
environmental protection group for Christ's sake. So far the only thing we're protecting is me,
from chronic insomnia.
I should have known when they told me the name of the organization that it'd be a huge
waste of time. I mean, 'Mother Earth's Avengers'? Ridiculous! Sometimes I think the only reason
I joined is because the name reminded me of my favourite comic book.
There's our fearless leader Travis, waddling his way into the meeting a full hour late as par
usual. Probably got held up buying a trunk full of crisps on the way over. Just look at that fat
bastard. Honestly, what kind of ponce manages to be a five foot two, three hundred pound
vegan? Just how many of those veggie burgers he's always going on about does he eat in a day?
Oh, here he comes:
“Oy there Clyde. Good to see you again. Y'alright?” And once again, he talks right in my
face. I'll have to make sure to clean the spittle and crumbs off my jacket after I leave the meeting.
Phew! From the smell of it, he's had some onions on his veggie burgers today.
“I'm just fine Travis old boy. How are you? Anything special on the agenda for today?”
Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be just as much a waste of time as the 'Save the whales' leaflet
campaign from last week. Maybe we'll think outside the box and boycott a fast food chain for the
umpteenth time. Not that any boycott would keep this porky bugger from stuffing his face with
whatever he can find. When I was in college, our student activism group held protests, rattled
cages, really got things done. These people just sit around complaining about paltry first world
problems.
“Some big things in the pipeline Clyde. I think you'll approve. We're about to come into our
own as a voice for mother nature.” My, my, he did say that with more conviction than usual.
Perhaps we're using a fancier letterhead on the leaflets this time.
Everybody else is here at long last. God, look at them all. To an outsider it must seem like
this is some kind of dread lock enthusiast convention. The stink in here is unbelievable. Don't
these people realize that slapping on a half gallon of patchulie oil doesn't mask the fact that you
haven't bathed in six weeks? If anything, it makes it that much worse, like piling peat moss on
top of a stack of burning manure. Oh well, Travis is starting the meeting.
“Evening everybody. It's a good turnout tonight, I see a number of newcomers in the crowd.
