DDR: The Council
Several Allisons sit around a long, curved dais at the end of a meeting hall. The walls are made of gray matter and several of the seats are unoccupied. The council continues their business without full attendance. Quorum is one member, making council decisions erratic and disorganized. But tonight, they have an especially unhelpful combination of representatives.
“Maybe I’ll skip DDR,” supposes one Allison, the Czar of Productivity.
“Fuck it, go have a good time with your friends. The tasks will be there for you on Friday,” says another Allison, head of the Own Self division of the Department of Managing Expectations.
“But you have plans Friday,” sighs Allison, Chief Engineer, Clerk, and sole member of the Task Force on ADHD.
“I agree with Allison!” Allison blurts out from behind a large Monster Energy can that instead contains the remainder of two leftover lattes. “Friday is occupied, Saturday is occupied, Sunday always becomes occupied – despite my objections! – and then it loops! Rinse and repeat, no accomplishments done! Allison has shared with me the Great List of Tasks and they’re nearly impossible to complete on schedule!! I’m so tir— blnblblbl” The representative from the Department of Managing Expectations has taken a finger to the bottom of the can, tipping it up and into the mouth of the Allison who had the floor. She nurses from it, placated temporarily.
“I think that’s enough from our resident Architect of Anxiety.” She continues, the others glad for the sudden calm.
“Ladies and gentleladies of the Council,” she sighs, her voice brought down to a near-seductive pitch, “How permanent is any configuration, especially one of such beauty? Do we not wish to hang while the hanging is good?” The other Allisons are intrigued. One has even stopped sucking on her can of coffee and now listens intently.
“Are we not incredibly lucky to be in such good company as this? Such lovely people?” She turns her focus to one member in particular, asking rhetorically, “And is this permanent?”
The hooded figure tilts her head down and shakes it solemnly.
“I would continue, but I’m about to reach the character limit. So the question is simple: Do we want to dance, or not?”
at the Insanity Complex
100 Skate Park Drive
Madison, AL