By Chris Cottom
I imagined our Christmas Social being as Bacchanalian as the autumn paperclip audit. Yet by six-thirty, Front-Desk Philippa is offering tequila body shots off her midriff, while Brenda from Special Collections is promising daily tantric sex if I’ll cash in my pension pot to go fifty-fifty on a Polynesian beach hut. Over by the vending machine, their oiled pecs gleaming, Mike and Gordie from Security are stripped to the waist for a best-of-three arm wrestle. When Muriel calls for nude Line Dancing, I sidle upstairs to the reference section for an hour alphabetizing physics textbooks. I know how to enjoy myself.
Wow! Where is this Library? I want to meet these people!
I laughed out loud. Several times. I was picturing that M&M commercial where the green candy says, “Oh, it’s THAT kind of party?” Haha, this was brilliant!
Great one. The title makes one to read this instantly. Immediately you understand the narrator is not sarcastic. And the ending is a great, funny twist.
Very funny! I really enjoyed it.