literature

Lay on the Table: DenmarkxReader

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“Decorum!”

The sound of the gavel against the block resonated in the entire room, once again catching the attention of the preoccupied delegates of the committee.  

You glanced at the timer. It had been twenty minutes since the delegates of the United Kingdom and the United States of America had been engaged into a heated debate against the delegates of the Russian Federation and the People’s Republic of China. This shouldn’t have happened if the delegate of France did not interrogate China using by America’s data after China’s manifestly controversial speech. Tackling sensitive topics such as religious freedom could never get so disruptive. Being a close ally of China, Russia requested for a moderated debate and defended China, inviting a clueless America to take a stand about the matter. Naturally, the United Kingdom would not permit America to stand alone. And now that they were involved, nobody would be willing to take the role of the loser and would defend their ally until death. What a great way to start the day. Hooray.

The rest of the committee? They’ve been absorbed with their own trivial matters while the two couples headed with their debate. You had to bang the gavel a gazillion times in order to keep them in line.

Careful not to be heard over the microphone, you sighed. A few hours ago, you were as stiff as a block of ice, getting all nervous as this was your first time to shoulder the responsibility of governing the committee. All eyes were on you and having your boyfriend seated as one of your delegates was totally not helping.

It’s that time of the year again in the World Academy. Annually, the prestigious international school would host a simulation called the Model United Nations. As high school students, you get the chance to represent your homeland acting as ambassadors and defend its foreign policy in discussing certain global issues. But this year would be a little different for your part: you were assigned to be the Chairperson of the Human Rights Council.

“France moves to lay the agenda on the table.”

The blond addressed the committee after the thirty-minute debate was over, seeing that the situation would lead them nowhere. Smart move, Francis.  

“Thank you, delegate.” you said. “This needs a majority vote. For those who are in favor, kindly raise your placards.”

Countless placards, with their respective country names, paraded in the air.

“Those who are against?”

Only a handful arose, mostly comprising of the debating parties of Russia, China, United Kingdom and America. Figures an unfinished business.

“This motion clearly passes. The first agenda has been laid on the table,” you declared.
You spent the day seated in front of everyone, banging the gavel and observing everyone’s behavior, reprimanding some of them for being unruly. Nobody had to tell you that you were even worse than your German classmate Ludwig.

The day went on.

In the back of your mind, you were wishing for something entertaining to happen. Another fight? A boxing match perhaps, although it might be the last thing to expect. A group country promotion? A song and dance number? Maybe a little bit too early. A diplomatic protest could be fun; one of them approaching you, crying over a stolen idea. Anything… Any show would do.

When it was only a minute before resuming to formal session, you asked the staff to bring the delegates back inside the room. Speeches were made at the podium, some of the delegates already indorsing their draft resolutions. Admittedly, it was one of the dreariest parts of the session for a delegate: just having to sit your ass down a comfortable chair matched with the dim lights and the lull blabbing of the speaker in front. Go figure.

Knowing the possibilities, you observed the committee more keenly. And there they were, back to their transactions. Greece was discreetly inclined on his seat, eyes closed. Poland was having a low chat with Lithuania, suppressing giggles. Some of them were passing love notes to each other (of course they were love notes!), including Spain and Italy. While doing your surveillance, a staff approached the dais, handing a note addressed to the Chairperson. From the edgy handwriting, you knew who it was from.


Smile, sweetheart!


You wondered how you looked like at the moment. What kind of composure do you have for him to write you such message? Once again you read the letter. Could it be that you looked like an old hag, a dragon lady with horrifying wrinkles? There’s nothing to blame but the committee itself. Formal sessions could inject that huge amount of stress in you.

Terrified by your own imagination, you crumpled the paper in your fist and fixed your eyes back to the delegates. Alas, the delegate of the Kingdom of Denmark was grinning ever so brightly at his Chairperson, the kind that could light up an entire city. You pretended not to see him and masked your straight face again before distraction could tickle you.

“DELEGATES!” you addressed the committee as a warning. That ought to set them straight again. Greece sat up at once and rubbed his eyes in slight surprise which made you almost smile. “The Chair is fully aware that this day had been exhausting, but please be reminded of proper decorum during formal session. Thank you.”

Being the brats that you are, it’s a great challenge to maintain their short attention span. Lazy afternoons often lead to a disinterested crowd but the entire day justified it.

“Are there any motions on the floor?” you asked, voice back to normal volume.

Denmark raised his placard, waiting to be recognized. Seeing that he was the only one, you had no other option but to call him.

“Yes, delegate of Denmark. To what point do you rise?” you asked.

Straight face. Straight face. Straight face.

“A point of information, Madame Chair,” the Dane said, loud and clear.

“Granted.”

“The delegate of Denmark is wondering if it would be possible for the Chair to join this delegate for dinner.”

The seemingly unreceptive committee went back to life after hearing such statement. Ten seconds ago, they were as lifeless as comatose patients but now suddenly energized as if electrocuted. Everyone cheered. You wanted to hit your head on the desk, but instead you smiled rather absentmindedly.

“Decorum, delegates!” you said as you banged the gavel. “Sorry delegate but that is out of order. You may take your seat.”

Denmark gave his puppy dog pout as he collapsed back to his seat, earning you a negative response from the committee.

“Poor Mathias!” you heard from the sympathizers.

“Decorum!” you emphasized with the gavel, back to being the dragon lady. There had just been a notification from the Secretariat that you needed to dismiss them in a minute. “The Chair insists a delegate to motion for the suspension of the meeting until tomorrow, eight a.m.”

There were some who didn’t let their guard down and raised their placards.

“Yes, Liechtenstein?” you recognized. “To what point do you rise?”

“The delegate of Liechtenstein moves to suspend the meeting until tomorrow, eight a.m.”
“Thank you, delegate.” you said. “This motion needs to be seconded. Are there any seconds?”

Once again, a sea of placards appeared in the air.

“Objections?”

For a moment, everything was still. Nobody dared to make a move as if a single movement would cause an explosion.

“Seeing none, the meeting shall resume tomorrow at eight a.m.” you banged the gavel for the last time, only for the day.

The delegates packed their things, eager to vacate the room in a flash. Lukas, the delegate of the Kingdom of Norway and a close friend of yours, approached the dais together with Mathias.

Your boyfriend gave you a peck on the cheek and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Actually, Madame Chair, the delegate of Denmark wanted to say something else.”

Mathias’ face turned bright red in embarrassment.

“What is it, Lukas?” you asked, a sly smile etched on your face.

“N-n-n-n,” Mathias stuttered, trying to get a hold of Lukas, but you squished his face.
“What is it?” you insisted.

“Ish n’thing,” the Dane managed through his constrained mouth.  

“The delegate of Denmark said he wanted to lay you on the table,” Lukas snickered. But unknown to the three of you, Lukas was heard through the ultra-sensitive microphone and the rest of the delegates who hadn’t left the room roared with laughter.

You felt your cheeks burn but you laughed along.

“You naughty little monkey!” you leaned closer to the Dane only to stretch his adorable cheeks. With Mathias and his antics, no two days would ever be the same.
Based on someone’s collaborated observations in her MUN experiences. I hope it wasn’t too dry! If there’s something you want to clarify, just ask me. ^^;


Lay on the table: to put a pending matter aside in order to attend to more urgent matters.

And yes, because of its pleasurable name, lay on the table has been one of the most popular jokes in our department. :D

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DUDDEEE I CAN RELAAATEE