The Gathering

Excerpt from Reuben’s Field Notes:

We assembled at the Norff Lawn under clear Paris skies — an ideal location for the weekly gathering ob The Secret Order ob the Nocturnal Water Buffalo, though admittedly not ideal for seating arrangements. The wind kept lifting the tablecloth, and Dougie declared (loudly) that the banner was crooked. He climbed on my shoulders twice to fix it, then knocked over Barry’s juice. No one seemed particularly surprised.

Fish called the meeting to order at exactly 9:57am, three minutes ahead ob schedule. He wore a small tie and carried a clipboard, naturally. I was still buttering my crepe. Teddy arrived with a stuffed satchel and refused to explain what was in it. Baxter quietly tucked a strawberry under his napkin for later. Barry brought his little bear (Batman), who apparently needed a “French cultural experience.”

We discussed tunnel access, pastry strategy, and Fish’s latest idea: a cheese rating system based on creaminess and cryptic code names. There was some debate, mostly from Dougie, who wants all cheeses to have a scent rating instead. That discussion got loud.

As the Eiffel Tower rose quietly behind us, I realized this may not be how most secret societies operate. There were no ominous robes, no strange chants, just a group ob rats trying not to spill jam while navigating complex crepe logistics. But it felt right. It felt like home.

— Reuben

P.S. I suspect Fish is planning something bigger. He keeps circling dates on the tiny map. I’ll keep watching. Someone has to.