The Bearded Men’s Society – Part Two
Finally, the silence was broken.
“What would happen if we all resigned?” said the Canadian. “We could do it. I don’t see why we couldn’t.”
“Ach du himmel! Ve could not resign,” said the German. “Ve have very important job. Millions rely on us. Zink about the global markets… Ze economics… Ze broken hearts…”
The other three just stared at the German. He raised his voice: “You must understand. Ze change would destroy ze whole world economy!”
The door flew open and in stepped Bob, the society’s attendant, followed by a sharp bitterly cold wind.
“Blast! Shut the bloody door.” Shouts came from the group. Bob slammed the door behind him.
“Gentlemen, the last two have arrived. They are getting changed in to more comfortable attire and should here shortly.” Bob walked around the room picking up empty bottles and straightening as he went. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”
The Russian perked up. “Dinner! Great! I almost forgot.” The group agreed dinner would be great.
Bob rolled his eyes and said under his breath: “As if any of you had forgotten.” Overloaded with bottles, he managed to open the opposite door and exited.
The men went back to drinking. Just as the warmth returned, the door flew open again letting in the same cold rush of air. Two men walked into the room.
“Blast it again! Shut zat damned door. We’re not Eskimos.”
The Canadian spoke up: “Finally! We’ve been waiting for you.”
The American and Italian had arrived with the latter speaking first: “Ciao, everyone. We have arrived.”
“La-dada. We were done hours ago. What’s your excuse?” The Russian got up and stood in front of the fireplace to warm his hands.
The American rolled his eyes. “We may have small territories to cover, but we have larger populations.”
The men turned to chatter of comparison and who has the most work cut out for them.
Bob entered and announced. “Dinner is served, gentlemen.” With that they all began to stir from their chairs. In the corner, the grandfather clock started to strike six. They all stopped and turned to look at it.
The American spoke: “Gentleman, the hour has arrived. Our job is done. May I propose a toast?” He had poured himself a glass of whiskey. “To another year of delivering presents and a job well done. I wish us in the Bearded Men’s Society another Merry Christmas. Until next year!”
Finally, the silence was broken.
“What would happen if we all resigned?” said the Canadian. “We could do it. I don’t see why we couldn’t.”
“Ach du himmel! Ve could not resign,” said the German. “Ve have very important job. Millions rely on us. Zink about the global markets… Ze economics… Ze broken hearts…”
The other three just stared at the German. He raised his voice: “You must understand. Ze change would destroy ze whole world economy!”
The door flew open and in stepped Bob, the society’s attendant, followed by a sharp bitterly cold wind.
“Blast! Shut the bloody door.” Shouts came from the group. Bob slammed the door behind him.
“Gentlemen, the last two have arrived. They are getting changed in to more comfortable attire and should here shortly.” Bob walked around the room picking up empty bottles and straightening as he went. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”
The Russian perked up. “Dinner! Great! I almost forgot.” The group agreed dinner would be great.
Bob rolled his eyes and said under his breath: “As if any of you had forgotten.” Overloaded with bottles, he managed to open the opposite door and exited.
The men went back to drinking. Just as the warmth returned, the door flew open again letting in the same cold rush of air. Two men walked into the room.
“Blast it again! Shut zat damned door. We’re not Eskimos.”
The Canadian spoke up: “Finally! We’ve been waiting for you.”
The American and Italian had arrived with the latter speaking first: “Ciao, everyone. We have arrived.”
“La-dada. We were done hours ago. What’s your excuse?” The Russian got up and stood in front of the fireplace to warm his hands.
The American rolled his eyes. “We may have small territories to cover, but we have larger populations.”
The men turned to chatter of comparison and who has the most work cut out for them.
Bob entered and announced. “Dinner is served, gentlemen.” With that they all began to stir from their chairs. In the corner, the grandfather clock started to strike six. They all stopped and turned to look at it.
The American spoke: “Gentleman, the hour has arrived. Our job is done. May I propose a toast?” He had poured himself a glass of whiskey. “To another year of delivering presents and a job well done. I wish us in the Bearded Men’s Society another Merry Christmas. Until next year!”
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