On a scale of one to ten, Yachiru ranked the meeting so far as a two. As in, she had managed to convince Nemu to sneak around the room picking up sprinkles for her, which was good, but Nanao had been adamant about sticking to the rules and going through the old business. All of it. In order. "The fundamental right of deliberative assemblies require all questions to be thoroughly discussed before taking action!" or something. It was the worst.
Well, it HADN'T been the worst, just the nearly worst, but then the report on the new society website happened. Kiyone Kotetsu, rather, happened. Kiyone had volunteered to work on the website before the website was a problem. The website became a problem. Unpleasant spam creatures became a problem. Viruses became a problem. Nemu's creepy adoptive father-slash-cousin-once-removed getting access to the forum became a problem. Kiyone did not know anything about websites. Even Yachiru could tell that Kiyone knew nothing about websites. Kiyone had tried hard. She had found helpful manuals at the library. She had asked her roommate, who also knew nothing about websites. They tried harder together. They raced each other to become proficient in the use of Machine Code. Kiyone won, then dodged the boogers and dirty socks her roommate threw at her. It was gross. Immediately afterward, they learned that easy-to-use software for building and maintaining websites already existed, and did not require any specialized programming knowledge like Machine Code. Particularly not Machine Code. Learning Machine Code was a terrible waste of time. Kiyone and her roommate drowned their sorrows. Kiyone built the new website with relative ease using easy-to-use software designed for that purpose. Kiyone then produced a powerpoint presentation about her long journey to website creation and shared it with the rest of the society at the annual meeting. Yachiru fell asleep and drooled on the table.
Yachiru dreamed. In her dream, Baldy was chasing her around the salvage yard to take back his stolen afro pick. "But you're bald! Bald!" she kept yelling back at him. "It's shaved! Shaved!" he replied. Over and over. Finally she got the jump on him over a rusty yellow microbus. She put him in a headlock and drooled all over his shiny pate. "If it were shaved, I would see hair! There's no hair there!" "Nooooooooo!"
There was so much drool. Yachiru woke up with her face in a pool of it, the bitten, squashed and otherwise abused ex-wax pear half in her mouth. Nemu poked her as if she had tried the maneuver several times already without success. Yachiru sat up, wiped her face on her sleeve and stretched. Nemu smiled a tiny, tiny smile and pointed to an unfolded napkin on the table full of sprinkles. They were sorted by color and size. Yachiru grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, then tried to start listening to the old business again while she ate the sprinkles one at a time, in order from least to most favorite color. Important president business indeed.