Chinese Medicine was the fourth president of the Astrophysical Lit Club. He had taken office because the lone elector, Gorgeous George, had been his dorm mate back at Princeton, before the war. When the war did come, Slope, as the president had been nicknamed, and George spent their service time as part of a music corp, the type of band that played the troops into battle. Now Slope helmed the biweekly meetings which consisted of him, George and Juggs Grotto.
As the club came to order each Tuesday and Wednesday evening, Slope would have his nose buried in a journal of scientific conjecture. He paced along the walls of George’s uncle’s garage behind the strip joint by the freeway. They used the garage because the recent downturn in the economic well being of their market shares were tumbling down and down and week by week Slope and George were losing everything. Except for Tuesday and Wednesday nights. That club was the ledge and these three were the last fingers holding on.
They wore old wartime t shirts with glittery lettering saying things like, Let’s Make An Orchestra!! Emphasizing LMAO. George wore a fluorescent yellow shirt that said, Ritard. with some eighth notes dangling around. George was the one who came up with Slope too. Slope mumbled from the magazine while pacing next to a beat up Cadillac. George kept the minutes. Juggs popped up from the backseat of the Caddy screaming, “Oh shit! My number is coming up!” Then she darted out to work her shift next door. George pilfered under seats and inside ashtrays and when he had found enough change for a couple of beers he called to adjourn since Juggs was the mathematician of the three and there could be no verification of the scheduled discussion. Slope got his mind off acceleration for a few hours.
Presidents of the Eastside Astrophysical Lit Club. 1. Gorgeous George, 2. Honorary in absentia Leonard Nimoy, 3. Juggs Grotto, 4. Chinese Medicine