pork Chops & Apple Sauce

Work these days has been busier than normal. I am not sure what it is, but I am finding myself putting in more and more and getting less done. I sat there thinking about this in the building’s cafeteria or so it is called. Really it is a restaurant. How many company buildings have a full on “Cafeteria” with not one but two full time “five star chefs”? Then there is the gym. A full scale workout facility right here in the building, which by the way, the employees have 24 hours access to. I see their plan I thought. Next they’ll put in little sleeping rooms to keep us here permanently.
I sat eating and watching the big screen television on the wall which was airing the local news, and I heard her voice. “Can we join you” she said. I didn’t have to turn to look, I knew the voice. It was Kacey, the self proclaimed leader of the “Lunch Table Girls”. Talk about a gluten for punishment. I nodded my head as if I were too engulfed into the news program to answer. They all gathered around and began to sit with their trays of salads and weight watcher chick crap, while I had spread out in front of me 2 fat pork chops, mashed potatoes with gravy and a big ol’ hunk of chocolate cake. I went on eating as if I were not the least bit interested in their presence or their perceived status. Glancing around the table I did notice that the LTG had grown, not only in numbers, but in size. “Just be cordial and eat your food and politely excuse yourself, don’t say a word” I thought. This group took pleasure in engaging me, lifting me up, sparking my interests only to deflate and leave me feeling low, embarrassed and ashamed. Not this time, not today.
They talked and I ate as fast as I could without looking like I wanted outta there. They were discussing AVON or something of that nature and how BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. Their conversation switched to these “Sex Toy Parties” and I could feel the hook in my mouth. Apparently several of them had recently attended this “Female” only ritual where the host presents several adult items for pleasure, ease and comfort and gags. The premise is that they all gather and discuss and I assume try out all of these items in which they purchase their favorite to take home to spice up their miserable relationships (I know that sounds harsh, but I know these chicks and their men were probably thrilled just to get them out of the house for an evening). They giggled and talked in low voices about some “Dolphin” thing and another mentioned that her man really likes the BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. I was just about finished and ready to leave. I took the last drink of my milk and
That is when it happened
One of the newcomers to the group, a heavy portly beast of a woman (imagine Elvis in his final days) commented on how much her husband adored the “Edible Undies” that she purchased. She even felt the need to inform the table that they were “strawberry” flavored. My head spun as images flooded in. The thought of this woman’s crotch wrapped in a “Fruit Roll Up”, all that heat and sweat turning the berry panties into jelly, all the while her husband pretending to enjoy, wishing he were dead. I could not control myself. These burning thoughts swimming around and around. I lost it. Milk shot forth through my nasal passage spraying the table and the LTG. I fought to keep down the pork, the potatoes and the cake. Seconds (which felt like minutes) passed and my dry heaving, coughing gagging spell subsided. I looked up and saw the eyes upon me. Little droplets of milk and other substances freckled the faces of the women at the table. I wiped my face off with my napkin and excused myself.
I left the LTG there. I assume that will be the last time they associate themselves with me. “I gotta get out of this building more” I thought.
In other news, I am traveling this week in a city near you. Should be back in time for HNT. If not maybe Kiss My Mike will present his own HNT.