WHO ATE THE DANISH?: The Twelfth Chapter of Alex in Blunderland


“Consider your verdict” the King said to the jury.

“Not yet, not yet!” the rabbit hastily interrupted. “There’s a great deal to come before that.”

L. Carroll     “Who Stole the Tarts?”


Who Ate the Danish?

It was another of those meetings that Alex hated; the kind that ate up a lot of time, the kind where the incompetents had much to say about nothing, the kind where the wrong decisions were made for (apparently) the right reasons, the kind where group thinking in parallel fashion created an atmosphere in which dissention was not tolerated.

During the meeting Henry exerted his pseudo importance by demanding to know who entered the meeting room first. The basis for his demand was his perception that someone had eaten all the creame-filled Danish before the others had arrived. Henry huffed and puffed and interjected words like “Indeed” and “How dare you?” He believed that these comments leant strength to his argument.

Myrtle finally spoke up to inform Henry that he, Myrtle, CFO, had signed and distributed a memo weeks ago. The memo stated that “meeting food” would be limited to plain and sugared doughnuts. Danish and other fancy pastries were no longer to be purchased due to the austerity budget that the corporation was on.

“Do more with less, walk the talk” blubbered the fish from his bowl.

The beaver, who had been sharpening his teeth on an aluminum chair leg, stood up – – – straight. It was a three-point support system; his two legs and one cross-hatched tail (with the tail doing most of the work). “Wait a second there Bub” he stated directly at Myrtle. “Do you think that ommiting pastries at an important meeting such as this will save our company from bankruptcy?”

“The tag is Myrtle, not ‘Bub’, an’ the green ain’t the point; the rap it sends be the point” responded the CFO.

“Point of order. Let it be noted. Table the pastries” cried out the fish.

The moose felt that he had to be heard. Something had been rattling around in his head; however, he could not form it into concise thoughts. Finally he bellowed out “We need to form a group, a secret society. We need to do this for our own protection. If we say it is a ‘service organization’ maybe we can even enhance our power. We will need secret signals, phrases and handshakes.”

Fred looked at the moose and asked “What is that on your antlers?”

Only Fred had noticed the two pieces of clothing stretched across the wide beams of the moose. Once it had been called to their attention everyone sat staring at the clothing. There was a yellow tutu with an attached T-top. It was bedecked with chartreuse sequins. The other piece was a full length gown, red in color and black sequins were sewn in strategic areas.

“Oh my” said the moose as he, apparently embarrassed, quickly reached up and removed the two pieces of clothing.

He was about to hide them behind him when the Coquettish Round Queen walked in the door. “Oh there they are” he said reaching for the clothes. “I hung them there last night to dry” he lamely added.

Everyone was looking at the queen and then shifted their gaze to the moose.

“What?” asked the moose (to everyone and no one) as if he did not understand what they were thinking.

“I have never been so humiliated in my life” screamed Lola. “I thought we had a commitment” she said to the queen as she stomped out of the room.

Everything became very quiet. Alex sat at the table with his head in his hands. The beaver went back to gnawing on the chair leg. Fred grabbed a sugar doughnut and threw it forcefully into the fish bowl. Myrtle was diligently taking notes and Henry was busy adjusting the knot on his power tie. The moose smiled knowingly at the queen. The queen didn’t seem to notice because he was trying to pull his Lycra hip-huggers up to a position just below the navel. It was a useless struggle due to the rolls of fat he had to deal with.

Pfeffer finally arrived at the meeting and seeing the chaos stated “In conclusion I make a motion.”

Henry followed without waiting for the motion to be defined. “I second it” he officiously stated.

The fish stuck his sugar coated soggy face out of the bowl and stated in a confident voice “Meeting adjourned.”

Everyone departed agreeing that it had been one of the best and most productive meetings that had occurred in a long time. Well – – – – almost everyone. Alex and Myrtle walked away scratching their heads.


About Waldo "Wally" Tomosky

I am proud of my work life (not the jobs, just the work).  Bait monger  Lawn mower  Paper boy  Windshield cleaner in a drive-in theater (if you don't know what a drive-in theater is there is no sense in you reading any farther)  Snack shack janitor in a drive in theater (ditto for drive-in theater)  Milling machine clean-up boy in a tool and die shop  Plastic injection press operator  Centurion in the US Army  Factory hand  Apprentice boy  Tool and die maker  Software user manual writer  Computer programmer  Ex-patriate par excellence  Engineering manager  Software test manager  Retiree  University administrator  System analyst  Retiree (2nd try)  Licensed amateur paleontologist  Retiree (3rd try)  Shovel bum (archaeology)  Retiree (4th try)  Delivery driver  Retiree (5th try)  Graduate student (skipped AA and BA due to the level of difficulty)  Retiree (finally got the drift of it) I have been writing for fourteen years and have fifteen books on Amazon/Kindle. Some horror, some twisted, some experimental, some essay and a few historical. I think that now I will really, really, really retire and just write. Lets see if I can do retirement correctly this time!
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