Tags
Stevens sat in the high-backed leather chair and folded his newspaper.
Placing it on the table beside him, he gently pulled his glass of aged
scotch and finished the last. He had just about decided that he really
should order another drink when he felt a hand pat the side of his
chair.
"Stevens" the man said, "good seeing you here. Would you mind terribly
if I joined you?"
"Of course not, Ingersol, please do" Stevens said, waving his hand at
the chair on the other side of the small table. There was something
about the younger man that always made Stevens feel old and, possibly,
feeble as well. With only 12 nuclear weapons, Ingersol was one of the
newer members of the club. With over 5000 deployable nuclear warheads
at his disposal, Stevens could barely remember the time when he only
had 12 to manage.
As if on cue a punctilious waiter, dressed in a crisp white shirt and
a red vest, arrived to see to their needs. Ingersol ordered a good
Kentucky bourbon, neat. Stevens took the opportunity to finally get
another scotch.
"So, how have things been?" Stevens asked, once they had the drinks
firmly in hand.
"Well, Stevens, thank you so much for asking. My neighbor has been
making some rude noises lately. I think I make him nervous."
"Most get used to it eventually" Stevens said, feeling that it was
somewhat his responsibility to help the younger man. "Only the members
of the club here can really understand the great responsibility we
bear. Few members though we may have."
Ingersol sighed. "Yes, I suppose that it the case" he said, looking down
at this bourbon.
Ingersol picked up the newspaper that Stevens had left on the table and
started going through it, rather half-heartedly. Stevens watched the
light from the high window of the room filter down onto an empty spot
on the floor, along its way illuminating the cigar and pipe smoke drifting
through the air. His mind wandered from this to that.
A man approached from across the room. He was dark and wore an
impeccably tailored Saville suit. His black beard looked as it had been
trimmed by a fleet of barbers it was so perfect. He nodded and sat down
on the chair opposite them.
Stevens nodded back at him. "Rashani. Good to see you again." He tried
to give him his best smile.
"You are very kind to remember me" Rashani said, looking very serious.
"Not at all" Stevens said. "We all know each other here, don't we?"
Rashani was the newest member of the club. He had only developed a
nuclear capability the previous year, and now managed 2 nuclear
warheads — although there were some who thought that it might be as
many as 6 warheads by the end of the year.
Ingersol cleared his throat. "I am so sorry, Rashani, that I haven't
gotten the time to welcome you here."
Rashani seemed to smile, and nodded. "It must be difficult for you,
I know" he said. "This is a most exclusive club."
Ingersol placed his drink on the small table. "It is not so much that
we discourage new members" he told Rashani. "It is, rather, the fact
that we wonder if they will conform to the code of conduct of the club."
Rashani's smile faded. He stared at Ingersol intently. "Is there
something about my conduct that you object to, my friend?" he said to
him. "Do I not also have two hands and two feet? Is not my suit as
nicely cut as yours, my shoes as expertly polished?"
Stevens thought he should intervene. These young ones were so
headstrong. They hadn't the experience of the older members of the
club, who had through the decades learned to treat each other politely.
"Well I don't think that anyone would say that, specifically" Stevens
told Rashani. He gave Ingersol a stern look. "If you are offended,
Rashani, we apologize."
Rashani gave it some thought. His smile returned. "Thank you, Stevens.
But I still do feel quite the outsider here."
Stevens took a sip of his scotch. "That will pass" he said, tipping his
glass at him. "That will soon pass. And then, I think, you will want to
stay with us for the duration."
Ingersol excused himself, saying that it was time for lunch. Rashani
asked to borrow Stevens' newspaper and set to work reading. Stevens'
mind resumed its wandering to and fro. It was so quiet in the club that
often you could lose yourself as the sounds of the outside world faded
into silence.
This Insubstantial Pageant Faded 
NOTEThis is to kinda-sorta make up for my ROB post the other day on N. Korea.Very occasionally, I can be serious. :pAnd here's just a little supplement. (Rashani in the video no relation to Rashani in the story.)
That guy's hair is as long as mine. :eyes:(Bet mine didn't cost near as much, though. :D)Interesting story, Edward. Too bad that those who actually have control over those nukes aren't nearly as experienced and/or civilized as those in your gentlemen's club.:up:
:lol:That Kaintuck stuff will knock the oneriness outta anybody, won't it?:lol::heart:
a great read Eddie,when I see in a page of read a verbal exchange of under 20, I know it has to be a man's group alone… :lol:women talk! instead of 19 exchanges btwn 3 women it would have been respectable number of 4937283828376374 :p
😆
That's because the club guys drink more scotch and bourbon. :pThanks for the Comment, Star.
It does me. 😀
:lol:that it is !
:lol:I think I've read that little book on the Knob Creek whiskey bottle. It's not really very interesting — mostly just about whiskey for some reason. :p
PS. I don't like Knob Creek as well as Jack Daniels.
Glad you liked it, Darko. You know, I forgot all about the cigars. Damn!
I like the story, kind of contradictory one. Calm afternoon in a gentlemen club, whisky and bourbon, smell of cigars.There is just what kind of club this is, that is disturbing 🙂
I`ve seen it in movies, of course. I don`t have any nuclear warheads. Yet :whistle:
meister kafka would be pleased. :up:i do hope rashani finds a way to blend in as he adds more nukes to his prized collection.
I might have a few extra nukes laying around here, Darko. Help yourself.:D
@ Scott.And that he finds a good vegetarian restaurant near the club. :lol:Thank you.@ Darko, StarHow nice it is to see you kids playing quietly and sharing the nukes instead of fighting over them. You both get ice cream for lunch. :p
Really good read Ed. I thought there was some similiarity to the N. Korean post the other day. Then wondered if this was the beginning of a longer story you're writing.
I anticipate that this club will grow considerably the coming few years.More whiskeys. More chats. More nukes.
😆
I really like this story, Ed. Like Darko, I instantly get the drift of Pall Malls and Davidoffs in my nostrils, though you didn't mention them at all. This is the magic of good litterature, which I am sure you know. My mind completes the universe, fills out the empty spaces. I am there, sitting in an easy chair in a corner behind today's Times, discretely eavesdropping, brasillian fairtrade coffee on the small table to my left, my old plateaux Briar pibe resting in the glass ashtray.My business here? I am afraid that would be my own, sir.
Thank you all for your comments. This is all there is to the story — it is in the Tiny Tale group. But what I'm thinking of now is that perhaps there really should be some tobacco smoke in it. I'll think about it and see what I can come up with. @ Allan.Perhaps the scariest thing these days is that you really don't have to belong to the club anymore — you can be a street vendor. @ Martin.I will respect your privacy at the club and not inquire. And yes, it is quite all right if you smoke, in fact there is a small sign on the wall, SMOKING PERMITTED, as you come into the club. This is a realatively old-fashioned club you see, having been founded in 1945. Old school, old ways.
*lights up his hundred year old meershaum pipe and blows smoke rings.
😆 That gives me an idea, Scott. Next time I go in to get blood drawn I think I'll sit down in the chair and shout "Watson, the needle!" 😆
Okay, it seems by popular request I really should have put some smoking into the club.Here's the original paragraph:Ingersol picked up the newspaper that Stevens had left on the table and started going through it, rather half-heartedly. Stevens watched the light from the high window of the room filter down onto an empty spot on the floor, his mind wandering from this to that.Here is the modified one:Ingersol picked up the newspaper that Stevens had left on the table and started going through it, rather half-heartedly. Stevens watched the light from the high window of the room filter down onto an empty spot on the floor, along its way illuminating the cigar and pipe smoke drifting through the air. His mind wandered from this to that.Thank you all my Opera friends for your suggestions. :up: :up: :up:
a very good touch indeed. "now watson what's the delay… bring that bloody needle man!"