We Are Not Prepared

Several concerned parties, the City Council being the most concerned, have spent the day discussing this Friday’s council meeting. For the first time in a very long time, they are in unanimous agreement on one thing: they have no idea what to expect. They feel, as Financial Chair Wilkins put it, “lost in the woods.”

Members of the Council have even made house calls to various folks that are on friendlier terms with our neighbors hoping to get some hint as to who Jackdaw is, what He or She wants, and more importantly, what is being expected of them. The answer they’ve gotten has been a near-universal “We don’t know.”

Brother Louis was finally consulted, and he was less than helpful as far as the council was concerned. Invoking the wisdom of Mr Fred Rogers, he explained what it meant to be a neighbor, and how to talk to a new friend if you don’t know if you have anything in common to talk about. Very wise advice, but not quite what the Council was hoping for. Mayor Amundsen relayed the news to Edna, and she swept in like the Wicked Witch of North-by-North-West, explained that they would act as though they just bumped into The Pope on the bus- Be quiet, be respectful, and don’t think you know everything. She then explained that she would cater this, and admonished everyone that should they stick their foots in the town’s collective mouth, the “[redacted] tax on goods and services for politicians” will generate enough revenue to “…replace every road in town, paint every fence, and rebuild the elementary school every summer for the next seven generations.”

The Council is taking all of this under advisement and has moved to hold the meeting out on the lawn of the Museum as “Well, It’s supposed to be a beautiful summer day. No sense receiving important guests in a stuffy office when the A/C is on the blink.”

Ombudsman Barnum shot Brother Louis a questioning glance as he said this, and seemed relieved at the shrug and nod he received.

On a related note, Edna’s will be shutting its doors at 2:00pm on Friday. If you are still in the restaurant at that time, you will be press-ganged into labor.