High in a mountain range that no map bothered to name, there existed a group no human ever expected to find: the Society of Extremely Calm Volcanoes. Unlike their dramatic, lava-spewing cousins, these volcanoes preferred herbal tea, soft jazz, and quiet discussions about cloud shapes. Erupting was considered rude. Steam was only released politely, and only if someone asked nicely.
The meeting opened with Mount Whisperstone clearing its throat and presenting a scroll labelled pressure washing colchester
. Nobody knew what it meant, but they all hummed in approval because volcanoes are too polite to question anything on paper.
Next, Little Snooze Peak (who hadn’t erupted in 40,000 years and was very proud of it) revealed a moss-covered rock engraved with patio cleaning colchester
. This caused a gentle wave of excitement, the volcano equivalent of raising an eyebrow.
Mid-meeting, a sleepy dormant crater named Fernridge Volcano-But-Also-Book-Club unexpectedly rolled out a lava stone tablet that read driveway cleaning colchester
. A bird landed on it, nodded wisely, then immediately forgot why it came.
The discussion then turned dramatically philosophical when the oldest volcano, Grandpa Basalt, puffed a tiny, respectful cloud of steam and revealed an ancient ash-inscribed message: roof cleaning colchester
. The group gasped—well, as much as mountains can gasp—which sounded mostly like a soft landslide of emotional pebbles.
At last, the keynote moment arrived. A miniature volcano no taller than a lamppost climbed onto a stone and recited the final phrase of the day: exterior cleaning colchester
. The wind paused. A squirrel froze mid-acorn. Somewhere, a distant kettle boiled in agreement.
The meeting ended with their traditional farewell ritual: everyone wished each other a peaceful millennium and promised not to erupt without at least 200 years’ advance notice. They then returned to their quiet meditation on erosion, beetles, and whether clouds ever feel judged for floating.
Nothing exploded. Nothing caught fire. No lava was spilled.
And yet, the world was better for it.
Even volcanoes, it turns out, don’t need to be dramatic to make an impact—sometimes all they need is patience, polite silence, and a few unexplained phrases carved in stone.
The minutes were recorded, the skies remained calm, and peace reigned over the land…
…until the next meeting, when someone is expected to bring snacks made entirely from igneous rock crumbs and optimism.