A glum Mr OC enters the meeting room, glum because terrace and roof gardening is on the agenda. It has taken years to order the gardens to
his the Inmate
Committee's satisfaction ... years of keeping out yappy dogs,
hyperkinetic kiddies, and midnight drunks for the pleasure of working
small plots, peaceful afternoon sunbathing, pleasant sunset
get-togethers, impromptu barbecues. The IC can tell from his face
it's bad news.
"Here's the latest, my dear fellows," he says, brandishing some papers. "Thomas the
Brave Bastard deeply resents his failure to hijack
our IC and against all odds ingratiated himself with Upper Levels of
Command. Now he's convinced them ..."
Summoning his best operatic breath and timing, he continued, "Thomas the Bastard is now in charge of gardens. And he's going to build a greenhouse on our roof to replace everything!"
Did the impossible just happen? Every member is stunned speechless. Their beloved gardens in the sky.
"To continue ..." Mr OC sighs. "Everything goes. We can throw out our waiting list for small-plot gardens, no more outdoor green oasis." He lays his head down on the table.
"Justification?" Gonzo the treasurer manages to croak.
The heavy head lifts a fraction. "Ecology .. solar .. organic .. whatever .. he just sold a bill of goods about providing residents with free vegetables year round. It's all the urban rage now, 21st century technology."
"Oh dear lord ..." murmurs Ophelia.
"Call the city! He can't do this!"
"OC, are you okay?"
George slammed his fist down, "What's next? A cow and a flock of sheep? Free milk and meat?!"
"We could have chickens," Bella whispers, "eggs."
"Shut your face you half-wit!"
Ms Etoile found her voice and cried, "Free veggies, my ass! What's the cost of putting up a great jeezly plastic tent?! All the necessary equipment? And who's the expert going to run this horticultural enterprise?"
OC: "Guess who."
Bella slinks off to commune with the House of Smirnoff.
"Technology costs a lot of money," snarled Gonzo.
Mr. OC raises his weary head and says with a wry smile they've never seen before,
" ... one thing. It's all dependent on the City Engineer's report."
Thoughts tumble about. Gears are meshing. Ideas gestating.
Luanna bursts out, "We can tell the Engineer what Thomas the Bastard won't!"
Several excited yeas.
"The cracked flooring blocks ..."
"The rotting membrane under the blocks ..."
"The leaks in apartment ceilings below ..."
"Thomas the manager has no qualifications ..."
Smiles of satisfaction glow as plans are made.
It's not over till it's over.
Another feckless day in the life ...