A Meeting of the Minds

Right now there is a closed door meeting between the two head honchos. Harms and I are looking through the window like a couple of Peeping Toms, and it looks serious. Could they be discussing the inappropriate stretching or perhaps Harms' abundance of cleavage? They're not loud enough for us to eavesdrop through the wall, so we are utilizing the lip reading skills we've honed during our time in Special Ops. We're watching intently and no dice! We can't read his lips through his mustache.

A brief flash of panic runs through us; What if we're on the chopping block? What if they know Harms didn't really run the Relay for Life? Nah! Surely they would fire the ugly people first. But if they did let us go, we have a Plan B. We will set up our back alley abortion clinic. I've already planned to take the knife I keep stashed in my pencil cup. Why do I have a knife in my pencil cup, you ask? It is to emphasize the fact that I don't make copies. I shouldn't have to explain any further.

Now HR has entered the office. It's official, someone is going home. We will spin our Wheel of Justice to determine who that may be. I'd like to fire the asshole who won't sign my confidentiality agreement. However I don't wear tight tapered pants and deck shoes so I'm not the boss. C'est la vie!