Exit to the Right ??

They watched as the door opened in tune with the resuscitated thunderstorm. And they groaned as once again the first thing to enter the room was a smell somewhere between a sulfur bath and a sewage farm. Ed twanged, "Look, it's the Coordination Chair. And he looks positively, as if someone had dragged him backwards through a cesspit. The news he carries should be exciting."

Ross, sitting on the council as Coordination Chair – a position with the unfortunate side effect that it required of him to be personally present at the tasks, though he wasn't usually actively fighting – sailed into the room. With him came a ton of the black ooze before an upraised hand of David could freeze him in his place.

"That's it, I call it: this rug will never make it through the night," said David with a pout. He pointed at a wooden chair that the assistant, who had been blown into the room at Ross' tail, scurried over to pick up. She managed to offer it to Ross, before he could sit down on one of the sofas.

Ross looked longingly at the comfortable, soft leather that cocooned the other three men. After the day he had had, there was little he wished more for than some luxury. It would remind him why he did what he did. In the end, his obedience won. He dropped onto the straight-backed chair with a sigh and huffed, "All power to you, Team Leader." Then his upper body sank forward and only his propped-up elbows on his knees prevented that it fell through to the floor.

William began to pour his fellow council member some sherry into a sherry glass. It was an elaborated, crystal thing the size of a thimble. Ross looked up at the offered glass, laughed, seized the bottle and gulped its entire content down.

"What happened to you, Ross?" David inquired when Ross made no move to talk on his own.

"The tasks, David." Ross pushed his hand through his hair. It came away tarry black. He shook it to get rid of the bulk of it. David swallowed hard as the splashes docked to sofas, side tables and the rug. Ross rubbed the remaining mud between his fingers lost in thought. "They surely love their filth. Don't worry, we offered them a great show, though not all of it went as planned.

"How could it, when it turns out that our Strategy Chair is a disloyal traitor?" Ross blustered and raved. "I should have become suspicious when he told me to place him on the board. But you see, Boris and Michael had shown up unexpectedly to volunteer. It had baffled me even more. I thought that the Strategy Chair wanted to balance their appearance with a show of the council's own strength. So, I put him as requested to the other big task, the jousting with boulders," he explained. Agitation dripped off him along with the ooze. "Yet, instead of fending off a pair of those always present oversized ears that threaten to hit you with their clubs, he whispered our secrets into them."

"To what end?" William asked incredulously.

Once more Ross pulled his fingers through his hair. Before he could shake them though, the assistant who had returned with a new bottle of sherry and a towel, handed the later to Ross. He rubbed his hands viciously, while he spoke without looking up. "Believing in the polls that had us loosing, our second in command meant to bring himself into an even better position for an impending race for a new team leader. But he hadn't calculated with Bellona's bridegroom who confronted him, money sack swinging and stone pushing with his chest, while throwing accusations and swears left and right. How curious is Fortune, who raises nations, teams, humans to greatness just to plunge them later into poverty, as she shifts those empty goods from here to there. But not today." Ross wadded the towel, mangled it, then shook his head. It rained mud when he continued, "Boris curbed the Chair's unrestrained, but fearful spirit. He ran over the opponents' lines. To cut it short: The victory fell on us."

"Great. We won another task. Applause, applause."

Ross dared for a second to let his hurt show about the dismissal of his efforts and accomplishments by David. He had come for some words of praise, maybe even a bit of commiseration about what he had to endure in the field. But all disappointment regorged in the end into kneading the towel that was now as black as the Coordination Chair.

Meanwhile, David thundered on. "What about the vote? Were the polls as correct as our dear Strategy Chair thought? Did we lose? Are the Tortoises doomed to a term without power?"

Ross leaned back, folded his hands behind his head around the balled-up towel, and closed his eyes. He stretched his back. "It looks like all the crystal balls were malfunctioning. The vote, too, is ours."

Ed clapped once. William emptied his sherry glass. Dave rolled his eyes. "Why haven't you started with this news?" he kvetched.

"I thought treason of the second in command deserved immediate action," Ross defended himself.

"Good point, Ross." David finally had some words of approval for Ross. They did more for him than all the sherry in the world could have done. "Let's take charge. After the vote is before the vote. Too many in our own ranks grumble or openly oppose my lead."

"What is on your mind, Dave?" William asked, relaxing into his place on one of the sofas for the first time that evening.

David rubbed his hands and chewed on his lower lip. "The Strategy Chair must be disposed of. What he has lost, our flimsy-floppy-fluffy-flaxy haired boar has won."

Three out of the four man giggled. Ross asked confused, "Who?"

"Boris. Apparently, his hair deserves a mention ever so often," Ed explained, then turned back to David. "Don't you think we should rather award him a clammy handshake and send him back to his regional post where he wouldn't get so much spotlight?"

His head shaking, David rolled his shoulders. "No. He did support me once. Sending him back where he came from, after today, while a Chair opens, would be the wrong message. Besides, I rather keep him close - for now - while I figure out what his game is. He's obviously ambitious. But is he still loyal and supportive? Let's sprinkle him some crumbs and see how he reacts to a gift." The team leader took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. "This is all a bit of a conundrum, my rug is a goner, and I am developing a headache. Leave me. All of you. Go, inform both men of their fate. Meanwhile, I will decide what else will need to be done."

"I will see it done," Ross nodded. He looked at the towel, then down at himself and added, "After I cleaned myself."