Nerds In A Heated Argument [FICTOID]

The 457th meeting of the Gnomes, Elves, And Spacemen’s Marching Society began as acrimoniously as ever.

Before the gavel could be hammered down there were floor calls for the impeachment of the club’s president.

“Out of order!  Sit down!” the president yelled, gaveling the meeting open.

“Point of order!” said the protester.  “I am sitting!”

The president pounded the gavel again, a keepsake from the previous president to remind him of happier, more productive times.

The protester seemed to chomp at the bit in their eagerness to introduce their motion.

The president cast a sidelong glance at the huge slush pile of introduced yet unvoted on items dating back over 35 years.  “Keep your shirt on,” the president croaked, throat already aching in anticipation of the yelling to come.  “First we introduce old business -- “

“This is old business!” the protester shouted.  They peered at their vintage pocket calculator in a futile attempt to decipher it.  “This motion was introduced September…wait, trying to read this…”

“Just give up,” the president said.  “Without a quorum we can’t vote on it.  Do you see a quorum?”

The protester looked around the empty utility shed where the Gnomes, Elves, And Spacemen’s Marching Society had been meeting since everybody else left the club after a near riot between Star Trek and Star Wars fans at a convention icebreaker.  The only two members left in the club were the president and the protester.

“I’m getting bored,” said the president.  “Maybe we can switch roles for a while?”

The protester shook their head, and the president remembered why they hated them so:  They were a synthesis of every hackneyed idea ever encountered.  “No can do,” said the protester.  “A new election must be announced sixteen weeks in advance in the club newsletter, The Tesseract, and we haven’t published an issue in 27 years.”

“28,” sighed the president.

© Buzz Dixon