Tales in Hot Pink is a weekly column by our fearless leader. Like all management, he is not required to tell the truth, represent himself accurately, or trouble himself with reality in any way. And, in keeping with our corporate style, he is not bound by good taste or specific subject, so he may ramble wildly from topic to topic. As his employees, we encourage this, because the day is long and we are frequently bored.
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Refrigerator Evolution
As a high ranking executive, I rarely use the office refrigerator. I'm too good for the office refrigerator. I don't bring my lunch in a paper bag, like the little people do. In the morning, at around ten, with my five dollar cup of coffee, I go directly to my office. No stopping at the break room for me. Then, at eleven, I leave for lunch. After lunch, I usually go directly home. Because I'm a high ranking executive. So, when I opened the office refrigerator for the first time, I was understandably shocked and horrified. "Sweet merciful heaven," I cried, slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. "What's the matter?" Don asked. He was by the coffee machine, drizzling some into a cup full of sugar. Curious, he walked up behind me and looked over my shoulder. "Mary Mother of God…" he whispered. T.R. was reading the newspaper, and the commotion got his attention. He joined the fray, bobbing his head over my other shoulder. "What's everyone looking at—Jesus Wept!" "What is it?" Don asked. "I don't know," I said. "It's breathing," Don said suddenly, panicked. "I can see it breathing." "Nobody make any sudden moves," I said. "Those white things on the top could be eyes." "Maybe we don't have anything to worry about," T.R. said. "I think it's smiling at us." "Where the hell did it get teeth from?" I asked, my voice cracking a little. "And what if it's not smiling at us?" "What do you mean?" Don asked, not taking his eyes off the creature for a minute. "In the animal kingdom, baring your teeth is often a sign of aggression," T.R. realized aloud. Don let out a little whimper. "No one panic," I ordered. "There's three of us and only one of it…I think we can overpower it if it attacks." "No way man," Don started to cry. "We're through, man. We're toast. Stick a fork in our asses, we're done, man…" T.R. slapped him across the face. "Snap out of it. We're only going to get through this if we keep our heads." Don nodded, but he was still whimpering. "Should we get it something to eat?" I asked. "Think about it for a second," T.R. said. "It lives in the refrigerator." "You're right," I admitted. "Stupid idea." "You got plenty of those," T.R. mumbled. I flashed him a quick look. Without moving my head, of course. Quick movement could mean death. "Sorry," he acknowledged apologetically. "Just slipped out." "Okay," I said, willing to ignore it. "T.R., you get its attention, I'm going to call the police." "What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped. "I'm not staying here." "I'll call the police," Don offered. "No," I stood firm. "I'm the boss, I call the police. And then I'm going home for the day." "You're just going to leave us here?" Don screamed. "Don," I started, trying to think of something to say to relax him. I couldn’t think of anything. "Yes I am," I said. He started to cry. "So what the hell am I supposed to do to get its attention?" T.R. asked angrily. "I don't know," I said, beginning to take my first tentative steps away. "Talk to it or something." "Talk to it?" he asked. "Yeah," I said, continuing to back away. "Say soothing things." "Soothing things?" he asked, bewildered. "Yes," I said. "Soothing things. Tell it it's pretty. That you like its hair. Or fur. Or whatever the hell that stuff is." "Hey there, little guy," T.R. said, bending forward and trying to be soothing. "Exactly what the hell did you used to be? Piece of pizza, maybe? Ham and cheese sandwich?" I continued to take small steps backward. "You're a cute little…thing, yes you are," T.R. continued. When I thought I was far enough away, I broke into a run. I just panicked. I forgot to call the police, I forgot to tell anyone what was going on, I just ran out of the building, got into my car and drove home. I spent the rest of the evening in the bedroom closet, hugging my knees close to my chest and rocking back and forth. I'm curious about what happened, but I think, for my own good, I should probably take the rest of the week off.
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| A collection of more diseased madness below. Check
out a few, and then buy The Reluctant
Prophet. We won't tell
anyone what you spent your grocery money on. No one needs to
know. We can keep it just between us.
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