‘Well. Are you going to say something, Mary, or will I?’ asked Felicity.

‘They are loud, are they not, Sarah?’

Sarah nods her head and adds in; ‘Deafening is more like it. I can hardly hear Beatrice when she speaks.’

‘What did you say, Sarah? I cannot hear you because of that boisterous table next to us.’

The monthly meeting of Australian Publishing Consortium was meeting at our local haunt, the White Sheep in beautiful Northport, New South Wales and this group of young people, troublemakers for sure, were just ruining the meeting.

‘Felicity, are you or Mary going to say something?’, asks Agnes, the group’s most prolific author with six self-published books under her belt.

‘I agreed with Agnes,’ chimed in Arthur, who rarely attends the meetings but today showed up and has now entered the fray, encouraging the admonitions of the troublemakers at the table next to us.

‘Look at them. No consideration for other patrons of the establishment. Loudmouth hoodlums. What did you call them, Agnes?’

‘I did not call them anything, but if I had to label them, it would pests or rabble-rousers. They think they own the place with their boisterous conversations.’

Marisol chimes in: ‘Now, Agnes, they seem to be younger than us, don’t you think? Remember when we were younger? We were a bit rowdier just like they are now, remember?’

‘Everyone, I heard enough,’ states Felicity. ‘As the group’s moderator, I feel I should be the one to go over there and confront the noisy group and ask them to tone it down. I will be right back.’

Felicity walks over to the other table and with an authoritative voice stands near the table and says: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are a group of authors trying to conduct a meeting in the table next to you and since you came in, we have had a terrible time in carrying on a conversation since you have been so loud. Can you tone it down some so we can hear ourselves?’

There was silence at the young people’s group’s table. There was a sense of triumph with the Australian Publishing Consortium group. Felicity had made her point and the table next to our group was speechless.

A young girl, could not have been over nineteen years of age, stands up, looks at our table and then addresses Felicity.

‘Ms, we had to raise our voices in order for us to hear ourselves since your table was very loud the moment we walked in and sat down. Your voices kept rising in pitch and we had to compensate by raising our voices. So maybe it is your table, the one that should tone it down.’

Our table is in shock.

It turns out that the troublemakers were not the group of young people at the table next to us.

It was us!

 José Nodar    ©    2023