Mission: Unlikely

Cooking up trouble has become my middle name.  Especially with the meetings.  Foggy shapes corrode memory as only endless meetings can.  It has become the norm to do nothing and then when one is tired of this the bell rings.  Same at the meetings.  Any move toward aliveness or being alive or action is taken as a threat by the group.   All of the members shift toward the drunk silver back, the one with a loud voice and words.  It must be illegal, somewhere.  My own taxes are going to this.