The Sixth Apostle

They sat in a small, smoky room in River County's First Bank's basement. Thicker than the smoke was the denseness of the decision process. These meetings were held as needed, repeated when a local issue of mistrust or misconduct was in order, to be addressed.

The five persons, all of political status, sat at a circular wooden table of fine oak. In their hands were fine cigars of the best quality, and eavesdropping on their occult conversation were delicate, crystal glasses of imported wine. Each figure of power had their own personal ashtray which constrained stale remains of burned-out cigar butts. Cheeses and meats sat off in the corner, already taking the appearance of roadside carcasses—the dried cheeses surrounding the room-temperature meats. The State's Attorney broke the silence in the room.

"It's quite clear, then, what the decision is," he said, looking about the table, satisfied that the meeting was finally coming to a close.

The Preacher, obviously anxious after sitting for three hours in this bare, cramped room, spoke his response.

"This meeting was rather redundant, given we already knew what needed to be done." He paused, composing himself, his impatience being attempted to be undisclosed. "I assume you'll talk to the Attendant about the job?"

"No, I'll have my assistant do the hiring."

The Preacher nodded. "Very well,” he agreed.

The Banker seemed reluctant to the decision. "Must it be the Attendant?" Everyone turned from the Preacher to the Banker. "I mean, rather, we've only used him once, and that time almost cost us. Can he actually do his part without the slop? Besides, for such . . . unclean work. . . ."

The State's Attorney dropped his eyes to his lap in thoughtfulness. As First Apostle, everyone awaited his response to the Banker's concern.

It should be noted there was always a lack of hostility in this room, even in regards to the honest and justified concerns—no matter how blatant or crude one spoke. Honesty kept the tightness of trust and respect in River County's elite group, in this room. Each individual is this room was dependable on and to the next, each having their share to bring to the community, bettering it for the well-being of the residents. Much of the laws were passed in this room. "Community meetings" were a B.S. front to keep citizens content.

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[Read the rest of this story in the Steve Dustcircle anthology, NAPKINS, found at http:/www.stevedustcircle.us ]