By Lloyd Omdahl
“Meeting will come to order,” Chairperson Ork Dorken of the Community Homeland Security Committee proclaimed as he banged his chipped Coke bottle on the table to encourage the town’s 13 electors to hurry.
“We have serious business for this review of our security program,” Ork added.
“Shouldn’t this be an executive session with only town citizens present?” asked Old Sievert. “Let’s lock the doors for security.”
“Okay! Okay!” responded Holger. “I know you and Dawg had a spat but that is no reason to throw him out of the meeting.”
“Dawg stays; we lock the doors, and that’s it,” ordered Ork.
“Now let’s get a Russian Report briefing from our IQ Division headed by Chief Security Officer Garvey Erfald,” continued Ork. “I now yield the floor to Garvey and Assistant Officer Little Jimmy.”
“What’s this IQ stuff?” asked Orville Jordan, the ex-depot agent who was still wearing green eye shades after being retired for 22 years.
“That was Garvey’s code for his unit,” explained Little Jimmy, now enrolled in a counter intelligence course with David Duke Technical College. “He thought IQ was a clever cover.”
“Never heard of that place,” Madeleine Morgan, an escapee from Montana, admitted.
“Of course, you haven’t. It’s a secret intelligence institution. How could it be an intelligence school if it wasn’t secret? That wouldn’t be very smart” replied Little Jimmy defensively.
“How come Little Jimmy gets an official position?” protested Einar Stamstead. “Some of us have seniority for appointments.”
“This job is strictly on merit,” responded Ork. “We can’t have just any jerk running this program. Besides he’s the only guy in town with a computer and we need communications.”
Einar looked around at the other electors and sat down. He guessed that the one with the most seniority was Old Sievert who still got al of his intelligence by rubbering on his party line.
“Let’s get to the briefing…let’s get to the briefing,” Dorsey Crank demanded half-standing. He was red in the face and he wasn’t even a Republican.
“Since little Jimmy did the technical work, he will start the briefing,” Garvey said as he turned to
Little Jimmy who was shuffling through a thrift store briefcase. It had a genuine padlock that was giving Little Jimmy some trouble.
“First, we decided we should have a plan before we do anything,” Jimmy reported as he pulled out a few papers
“At plan? blurted Dorsey. “I thought you guys were making the plan.”
“Well, we didn’t want to go out on a limb so we thought we ought to involve the people.” Little Jimmy explained.
“I don’t want to be involved,” Dorsey was red again. “I just want something done.”
“Remember when we were planning for direct enemy attack on Minot and Grand Forks airbases? That planning took 14 months.”
“That was planning for a whole state,” Dorsey argued.
“Well, remember that Bismarck and Fargo were offended because they weren’t considered important enough for the Russians to bomb? They raised such a big fuss they got included and nobody got bombed anyway… at least on the job.”
“Then the U.S. Civil Defense got into the act – that added at least six months to the planning,” noted Dorsey.
“But if our plan takes 14 months, the Russians will have come and gone, the election will be over and you know who will be re-elected,” predicted Madeleine.
“Here! Here!” Ork rushed in. “This is an intelligence plan and we can’t have politics in intelligence so let’s cut the extra appraisals.”
Just then Mathilda Dvorchak opened the door and hollered “cookies are done and still warm”.
“Without objection, we shall adjourn until next Saturday when Matty bakes again,” Ork declared and banged his Coke bottle for emphasis. The mice got the room back in 10 seconds flat.