Bad Poetry

Office work

A second offering of James Tate imitation. Enjoy!

Office Work

All of us were seated at our desks as usual. Jenny was busy taking a call. Mark was busy writing up the quarterly reports. Suddenly, the door to Mr. Johnson’s office burst open and a small man holding a pair of trousers ran out cackling maniacally. Mr. Johnson followed him, pantless, bellowing and waving his arms. The small man was running fast, and he had gotten a head start, but Mr. Johnson was gaining on him, puffing and red in the face. At the last possible moment, the dors to the office elevator slid open and the small man darted inside, leapt into the air, and pushed the “Close Doors” button. The doors slid shut on Mr. Johnson’s nose, and he was left standing there, red-faced, with his shirt hanging down over a pair of clean white boxer shorts. He turned around to face the office, which finally seemed to acknowledge his pantless, breathless state, clearly agitated. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to force words out. Then Mary, in a voice that was full of the good sense that most professional typists seem to be endowed with, said, “You should really stop hiring dwarves as office assistants, sir,” not even pausing to look up from her assignment. Mr. Johnson looked at her, eyes boggling with rage, but then his mouth snapped shut, he stomped back down to his office without a word, and slammed his door shut because he knew what we all knew. Mary was always right.

Have a great day!!

posted by Andy W. Anderson, Ph.D Candidate @ 9:49 AM