It is a singles club for single people (meeting once a month) and the organizers have given the attendees two bars of soap and a knife. 
 
  
"We're giving each of you a knife and two bars of soap and now we'd like you to create something," says the pregnant woman with the boy haircut standing at the front of the room. 

"You want us to whittle something?" says a woman sitting across from me.  She is removing her cell phone from her big American designer purse and placing it on the table alongside the soap.

"Yes.  We'd like you to whittle something," says Boy Haircut.  "Of course we encourage you to talk with your fellow whittlers.  After all, we are singles wanting to be couples."

I am looking at the woman with the big American designer purse and when I look too long she says:  

"Can I help you?" 

"You're like one of the Borg," I say then removing my soap bars from their individual boxes.

"Borg?  What's that?" she says forcing out a crooked half mouthed smile.

"The Borg were a race of beings and they were all connected.  It's from Star Trek."

"How am I like one of them?" she says making her half mouthed smile even more crooked. 

"Your cell phone keeps you electronically connected to your collective.  Without it you'd feel vulnerable, isolated, even scared.  Each ring of that phone is a confirmation to your ego that you, are.  The more it rings the better you feel.  In reality, cell phones are electronic antidepressants."     

After a pause Big Purse stands then says:      

"I've got three kids at home and a babysitter I can't afford just called me to ask where I kept extra diapers 'cause kid number three just shit on the albino bearskin rug left by my ex-husband."        

"What audacity..." says the elderly single woman sitting to my left.

"My word..." says the single woman sitting to my right.

"Jeez..." I say.

"Goodbye," says Big Purse then pushing the blade of her knife through both bars of soap (like a shish kabob) then finding another seat.

After a few minutes the elderly single woman sitting to my left says:

"What are you whittling young man?"

"What are you whittling, ma'am?" I say.

"I've carved a dove standing on a small bird bath," she says then holding it up for all to see.

"How 'bout you?" I say to the single woman sitting to my right.  "What did you carve?"

"I've made my initial, T for Terry.  I'm Terry," she says then holding it up for everyone to admire.

"T for Terry, very nice," says the pregnant woman with the boy haircut then stopping to examine my carving.  "Tell the class what you've carved," she says to me.

"Whatever it is it's nice," says a woman who was sitting on the other side of the room and is now standing alongside me.

"The more it rings the better you feel," says the woman with the big American purse then pushing her knife into her soap bars again and again.

"What is it young man?"  says the elderly single woman sitting to my left.

After a pause I say:

"I've used one of the bars of soap to create a replica of the back end of a 1969 Chevy Impala, the trunk is open.  In the open trunk of the Chevy Impala that I've whittled can be found assorted bags of groceries.  Using the other bar of soap I've carved out a miniature woman and notice please that she's bending over and that's me standing behind her balling her while she's reaching for the bags of groceries."