This goes out…

***NOTE: If you’re not a fan of adult language, beware.  This isn’t a treatise on the F-bomb or anything, but there is at least one word which may make some people uncomfortable.  You have been warned.***

…to all of you out there who are playing hookey, who are reading livejournals during class, who are posting when they should be working — oh wait, that’s me. ;-P

After re-reading a few posts, I realized that I had promised to tell the Epic Story Of Bonk and Fire. So here goes.

The Epic Story of Bonk and Fire

Once upon a time, I had a dinner party. Yes, I actually had a dinner party, in an apartment that was big and clean and wonderful. I know that’s difficult for you to believe, but work with me here.

I invited fair damsels and brave knights (read: a few co-workers) to my party. All were kind and jovial and generally well-behaved. Wine flowed freely, and cheese spread, well, spreadily. My guests draped themselves over chairs, whispered quietly in corners, absent-mindedly pet the cats, and relaxed on the couch. All was lit by lovely candles placed strategically throughout the room.

One of my guests, we’ll call him LaidBackMan, was on the couch with his glass of wine, chatting up my boss.  I happened to catch LaidBackMan out of the corner of my eye, and I suppose he caught my attention because he had stopped speaking (LaidBackMan is quite the talker). He was looking intently at something beyond the field of my view, and I, being my curious self, turned to get a better look. As I did so, he said, in a very calm voice,

“Pardon me, is that cat’s tail on fire?”

He said it the way you or I would say, “Pardon me, do you have any Gray Poupon?” Well, without the pompous accent to be sure, but I think you get the idea.

By this time I had followed his gaze over to a table where Bonk was calmly standing, her tail perfectly poised over one of the I-must-have-ambiance-at-my-dinner-party candles. And in fact, her tail was on fire. Not just wisps of smoke, or a good singe, but actual FLAMES on her TAIL. Bonk seemed perfectly oblivious to her condition, so when I ran over and started smothering her tail with a towel to put out the flames, she turned and looked at me like, “What the fuck? I’m just standing here minding my own business, and you have to come over and molest me??”

With the fire out, we all had a good, if somewhat guilty, giggle, and went on with the party. Later, in the middle of dinner there was a momentary lull in conversation. My boss started giggling a little. A kind of naughty giggle. We all looked at him in anticipation, as it was clear he was about to share whatever it was that had got him looking like the cat that ate the canary. He said, trying not to laugh,

“Man, that was some hot pussy!”

After the collective *gasp* from the table, the obligatory moment of silence as we all digested the fact that those words, had, indeed, come out of his mouth, the giggle fit began. Tears were streaming down our faces and we could not stop laughing. All of us except for TheBoss’Wife. TheBoss’Wife was slowly shaking her head in embarrassment and resignation. Very quietly she said,

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

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