Skip to main content

The Baby's Breath Garden Circle & Philosophy Club

Volume 31, Issue 10,11 & 12, December 20, 2017
By

David Jure, Victoria

      It started small. John just stopped wandering the streets at night with his camera and grew roots in Eugene’s restaurant, addicted to coffee, conversation and repetitive Greek music. Others joined him. The staff grew used to him and his knot of conspirators, for if the overthrow of government was mentioned once it was mentioned a dozen times. Quick to detect failure of attention in his brood, John taught the necessary cynicism for the times and soon lesbians and sensitive radicals were leaving the restaurant in droves. One who followed, but not too closely was Dave, who envied John’s slouching posture and amber glasses. Dave took notes, thinking one day to blow the cover off the whole sordid scene. But he had certain reservations. A member of the group was Doug, the world’s most knowledgeable man, who read the encyclopedia for breakfast, lunch and dinner and practised wise ways in all things. H443 the robot cruised through the restaurant. Doug could not be exposed. He knew too much. He belonged to secret Bhuddist orders, knew masons personally and divined the meaning of Gilbert and Sullivan. The restaurant rocked with laughter as the circle lampooned all that was lampoonable and Dave stared wistfully out of the window wishing that such days would last forever. He did not have infinite patience. He knew of no store where it could be obtained. When was the revolution, when the outcome? Some day the background music might stop. He looked at the circle, examining faces. Rick was the fox, with his red hair, Gord was the dog with his whiskers, John was the lion for obvious reasons – O mighty one, he Dave knew not what he was. Doug was the hawk with piercing eyes and sometime frequenter Willem was the jackal, cowering and coveting. Empires rose and feel, table stones tumbled off their supports at Stonehenge, and the group was still there, with the music playing, hacking and hewing at the asses in power