The Greater Delaware Procrastination Society Reacts

“We can no longer sit idly by and allow this to keep happening,” Tom Behren, Jr. shouted then pounded the counter in Frank’s Diner gaining the attention of Marge, the sole waitress, and Art, the cook.

Tom Behren Jr, Dennis T. Hernandez, Bob Lee Colwell and Condredge Baxter-Halloway III had been sitting in their usual spots at the counter of Frank’s Diner, located on the main drag of Shawnee Ferry, Delaware, for over three hours.

“What is your problem?” Marge carried a pot of steaming coffee in one hand, fixed her beehive hairdo with the other and smacked her chewing gum loudly. “Do you need more coffee? It’s fresh.”

The men shook their heads.

“We’re good for now,” Bob Lee Colwell said. “Check back when the coffee’s lukewarm.”

Dennis T. Hernandez nodded. “I agree with Tom. The time is now. If we delay making a decision, all could be lost. The fate of the world lies in our hands.”

Marge listened for a moment, rolled her eyes and walked away.

“I beg to differ,” Condredge Baxter-Halloway III asserted. “I am of the opinion we are overreacting. Let’s not be hasty. We should deliberate and discuss the situation before rushing headlong into perilous territory.”

“We have been assigned the job of providing a guest speaker for our annual meeting,” Bob Lee Colwell said. “The meeting is in five days, and we’ve been hemming and hawing for four years. I recommended a name the first time we met, and I stand by the nomination. We need an author who knows how to relate to our members.”

“Do we really need to meet?” Dennis asked.

Tom nodded and opened his copy of the Constitution of the Greater Delaware Procrastination Society. “On page two, it clearly states the society shall hold an annual meeting for the membership and provide a guest speaker to entertain such crowd.” He looked up and adjusted his glasses. “We are overdue to hold this meeting. If we don’t proceed, the Society could be endangered.”

“Fine!” Condredge Baxter-Halloway III threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “The 1985 meeting will not be a failure because of us.”

Marge looked at Art and whispered, “It’s 2021.”

Art took a puff of his cigarette then said, “Yeah, but don’t tell them.”

“Who is going to contact the author I suggested?” Bob Lee Colwell asked.

“You recommended him. You contact him,” Dennis said, draining his cold coffee and holding it up for Marge to see. “Decaf, please.”

“Okay. I’ll handle it. I’m sure Zane Grey will be an excellent orator.”

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