“Okay, guys and gals — and whatever you self-identify as — gather round, find a seat!”
The school auditorium is lined with fold-out chairs. In the back, tables are lined with covers, two water coolers, a tray of veggies and non-dairy ranch. The few dozen vegan-ites find their spots and gaze up at the podium on the stage.
A nice, mousy lady named Ms. Lafferty was conducting this meeting of vegan minds. Wiry glasses, slender body, she looked like a human bean stalk. Which was appropriate, being the chairwoman of the Manzanita Very Vegan Friend Group. She had this weird tick where she would pull at her right ear lobe when nervous.
“Alright, alright. I hope everybody got to try some of the delicious veggie tray Isla made for us!” She punctuated this by clapping her hands a little too much. The semi-circle reciprocated with a meager trickle of claps. “Now, as we always do with our get-togethers, let us begin with the vegan verse!”
In unison — save for two people — the Manzanita Very Vegan Friend Group chanted:
“Mother Earth, thank you for letting us be woke. We humbly accept your fruits and vegetables, and we promise to reap what we sow. Thanks for keeping us hella healthy. May you give us the strength to ensure we can annoy on all social media platforms. Namaste.”
Once the prayer ended (why it concluded with “namaste,” nobody knew), the guys, gals, and undetermined settled into their folding chairs. Ms. Lafferty smiled at every single person, making sure to catch all of their eyes before saying, “Thank you everybody.”
She cleared her throat. “Okay, next on the agenda is newbie gains!” At this, Ms. Lafferty flexed her chicken wing arms. You could say there were biceps there once. “Who here is attending their first Vegan Friends meeting?”
The two people who didn’t recite the incantation raised their hands somewhat reluctantly. One was a teenage girl with purple highlights and a lot of metal sticking out of her face. The other was a middle-aged man who just looked lost.
“WELCOME!” Ms. Lafferty had this way of making folks real uncomfortable on command. “Usually we have fresh ‘meat’ come up here and introduce themselves.”
A couple low chuckles accompanied her pun. Otherwise, neither newbies made a move to the podium. Impatient, Ms. Lafferty focused on her volunteer. “Piercings, why don’t you go first?”
More like a telling than an asking, Piercings had no choice. She got up, said her name was Amanda, and that she was checking out the group. She was already vegan, but she had a trouble with giving up cheese. Every sentence was met with a snark comment from the chairwoman of the group.
When Amanda finished, it was Merl’s turn. Merl was quiet, saying he wanted to make a change for the better — “It’s 2018, and I’m not getting any younger” — to which Isla shouted, “Hashtag new year, new me!”
Verses versed, acquaintances met, Ms. Lafferty moved onto what she named “old business.” The treasury was short $4.65, and they were still trying to find the missing money. An elderly lady named Henrietta kept blaming a twenty-something man named Rick for getting a small latte with hemp milk; Rick kept denying it.
With that matter settled (“We’ll readdress this issue next week,” said Ms. Lafferty), Isla rattled off the stats from their annual bake fundraiser. They had sold thirty dozen baked goods, assorted from dairy-free cheesecake to avocado brownies. They netted a solid amount apparently: $358.97.
“Splendid! Oh splendid!” This was Ms. Lafferty’s comment at every number. “Brilliant. Splendid. Oh my!”
After the commotion died down from another awesome year baking with dates and coconut cream, it was time for Q&A.
Merl opened it up. “So, I know I’m new here, but, um…I just wanted to know why everybody here is vegan?”
Poor Merl. He should’ve known better than to ask a group of people why they do something. All at once, multiple voices raised to speak their opinion:
“My husband Dennis didn’t think I could do it for longer than a month. Well, it’s been four months. Dennis couldn’t believe it. He brushes it off, but I know I got him good…”
“My best friend’s friend got breast cancer, and I heard on Facebook that most women get it from processed meats. So I stay away from the stuff…”
“The drug industry don’t care if we get better. No, they hope we don’t get better. They profit off of us getting sick! We need to focus on prevention…”
“Dairy is the devil!”
Merl sank in his chair, waiting to turn invisible.
Ms. Lafferty finally quieted them down. “Yes,” she said directly to Merl, “we’re all extremely passionate about being vegan. I’m so glad we could create this group, so we can support each other. It’s tough being a plant eater and animal lover in what’s probably the most conservative town in Oregon, but we’re here for you.”
The sheep nodded in agreement. Merl didn’t know how to respond, so he just sat there.
“Any other questions?”
If Amanda Piercings had a question, her courage got lost in the throng of crazy answers Merl got. Everyone else was pretty ingrained with the process. To them, it was all straightforward. Why would anyone want to live differently? Obviously, vegan is the way to go!
“Well then. I will adjourn the meeting so we can play vegan-opoly and enjoy dessert! Who made dessert this week?”
Rick raised his hand and hollered, “Vegan chocolate chip nice cream!” As if it wasn’t going to be vegan, he put emphasis on that word.
“Fabulous,” sing-songed Ms. Lafferty. “Amanda, Merl, you’re welcome to join us! Ask us more questions as we play and eat.”
“But make sure you keep your wallets hidden!” This was Henrietta. “Else Rick’ll gyp ya of ya money!”
And with that, the weekly Tuesday night conglomeration of the Manzanita Very Vegan Friend Group concluded.
Namaste.
J. D. Lyda is the most passionate health and fitness writer in the world. Check out his site to see how he creates engaging articles and kickass social media. Feel free to contact J. D. Lyda to see if he can rep out consistent, quality content for you. Follow him on Instagram for his personal fitness and nutrition.
