A Chair Burning, and an Unfortunately Outspoken Girl (3.)


Froddy Pollericks was giving the introductory speech, as he is wont to do. A few years ago (I suppose it really has been that long) there was a healthy, heterogeneous pool of MC’s for chair burnings and I toyed with my parameters depending on who started things off.

However, there is something about politicking positions like these that attracts the most officious and unfortunate of our species. Just as bad money drives out good, Loud Frod Pollericks had installed himself as sole king of chair burnings.

If he ever relents in his daily expressions of scorn for other burnings their invasion will be a forgone conclusion.

He had a new spiel on symbolism today which was a trifle less putrid than usual. I gave my customary blank stare and nod of approval whenever he glanced my way, for he was keenly conscious of his audience and sometimes pretended interest in my cosine functions. Namely, the ones which were plotted from his burnings. Because he really just wanted to talk about himself, and I remain deeply disturbed that we once snogged for upwards of two minutes.

Then why willingly set eyes on him, even attending his burnings? Masochism? Perhaps, but years of this practice have bestowed upon me an amazingly good stomach.

Though things were admittedly rough at first.

Loud Frod pontificated with the silly gestures and stern face that betrayed his innermost happiness, leading me to picture the gut that would have swayed upon his portly frame were not our Lifestyle Aesthetics System too kind to allow it. Then predictably, ever so rousingly, his voice rose to a crescendo and he threw the first grenade.

The chairs in the nearer portion of the tensor-dome exploded in a shower of dirt and synthetic materials, bouncing off the inside of the dome, and everyone else quickly joined in.

This is the only place in the city where there is bare ground, as the plebs had an original thought during its planning and voted to leave the most likely place for burnings without paving, stones, or bouncy-turf. Their legacy is a little plaque for ingenuity in the mayor’s office, and the Municipal Crew’s thanks for not having to repair any materials shattered under the periodic detonations.

Nota Bene: I do not mean to give the impression that the explosions are the crux of burnings – they aren’t.

The reason why burnings need some time to get going, and also why they capture the interest of the crowd, is that things don’t catch fire very easily under the tensor-domes. There is true strategy involved in producing the first flames, and when the telltale glow pokes forth I need to pay attention to my Patented Liliolophus Object Counter (PLOC) as participants start throwing more pieces into the pile.

In this easygoing confusion no one else (especially not Loud Frod) had noticed the girl waving her hands and protesting shrilly. This was about to change.

© 2012, Elizabeth Cook

 

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5 comments

    1. To be honest I am not sure what it is dealing with in general, but Froddy is definitely the pompous and overpowering reflection of the comissioner my committee answers to in our student government. Whom I detest, because he has 0 common sense. I just keep adding in bits of the strange or frustrating things I notice around me

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