A busy morning at the Brew & Burp

Buster, as usual, was holding forth on timely topics in his customary loud roar at the Brew & Burp Club on Water Street overlooking the floodwall murals with a glimpse, if you cock your head just right, of the Mississippi through the Themis Street floodgate.

As a lawyer-turned-auctioneer, Buster could easily be mistaken for a Baptist preacher whenever he got on a roll. His commanding oratory skills were why most everyone at the Brew & Burp just assumed he was the honorary president of a loosely organized group whose only purpose is to consume large quantities of coffee. Given the membership's average age, the burping came naturally.

"What's the world coming to?" Buster bellowed in a near shout. This was a signal to Brew & Burp regulars that they were about to be told.

"Used to be, people had manners and common sense. If folks argued in public, it was done with a good dose of politeness."

Bud, whose malfunctioning hearing aids left him comprehending only part -- the portion he wanted to hear -- of what was being said, took a long sip of steaming-hot coffee from his personalized Brew & Burp mug just like the ones Rose Mary, the proprietor and only woman allowed at the morning meetings, sold for $7.99 to the occasional tourist who wandered in.

With a cross between a harumph and a mutter, Bud mumbled something about a perfectly good day going down the tubes now that Buster was on his high horse.

"When did people start taking matters into their own hands?" Buster wanted to know. "Nowadays, if something doesn't go your way, you don't accept it and move on. No, by gum, you make a stink about it."

Most everyone at the Brew & Burp read the newspaper. They were all subscribers, but for the most part they preferred to fight over the only copy delivered to the club and paid for by Rose Mary out of her tips.

Recent headlines had caused a lot of head-scratching at the Brew & Burp.

"It just shows how much our society has eroded when a mayor and city council members can't agree on a single thing." Buster was just warming up. "I'll bet if you put that bunch in a leaking boat they'd all squabble about the seating assignments instead of bailing."

Buster added a large quantity of sugar into his freshly filled coffee mug and stirred studiously. No one else spoke, because they knew Buster wasn't quite finished. He never was.

"The mayor down there should set a better example."

Bud came to life.

"I had a mare once, a gaited mare. That was like riding in a rocking chair." Bud laughed at his unexpected rhyme.

Buster scowled, and Bud instantly knew their minds were on different tracks.

"And holding street rallies when you don't like what a jury decides," Buster carried on. "If I had tried something like that when I was a practicing attorney, I would have been drummed out of auctioneer school."

Holding up the newspaper, Buster shook his arm for effect. "And a boy wearing a kilt! Good golly! In my day any boy wearing a dress would have been afraid to show up in the locker room after PE!"

Most of the assembled heads nodded in agreement -- with the sudden realization that the general membership of the Brew & Burp had, for the first time in a long time, agreed on something Buster said.

It was turning out to be a good day after all.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.