Monday, September 15, 2014

Short Stories & Such: Retirement Party Food Fight

Retirement Party Food Fight

Everyone cheered as I stepped into the staff lounge. All kinds of faces stared at me. Their little twinkling eyes and recently whitened teeth suffocated me.  My only salvation was the ridiculously huge banner’s reminder that it had been 40 years of the same job. God only knew I was ready to retire.
My coworkers, on the other hand, must have been glad to take some time off from their duties and throw this party’ cake and ice cream… the whole bit.
“Speech! Speech! Speech!”
Of course it was going to come to this. I might as well join the festivities and take this opportunity to thank everyone for their ongoing commemoration of the end of the line. I wasn’t going down alone, though.
“I’d like to thank each and every one of you for this joyous occasion. You don’t know how much it means to me to know there are people who will miss me.”
“Ahh, chucks!”
“Keep going Alexis!”
“Nevertheless, I want to repay you by telling a story. Please, bear with me.”
I looked around the room and I spotted him. How fitting it all seemed. The gray streaks of hair on the side of his temples circled toward the back like a skunk’s tail.
“There was a time that I believed everybody’s business was their own, until Facebook showed up and taught me otherwise.”
The mass laughed and clanged their glasses of ginger ale and soda.
“Learning to Google and all that has brought to my attention certain events I would rather forget… events where a certain individual posted photos of himself spanking a life size gorilla doll wearing the mask and underwear I designed for the advertisement shot a week later.”
Suddenly, the room fell quiet and all eyes met mine. It was not easy standing in front of everyone who confided in me for the past years, but this dark secret must be told.
“That individual is Mr. Ryan, our boss.”
They all turned to witness the reddening cheeks of Mr. Ryan.
“He ruined the chance for me to sell the contract and step up the ladder.”
Some shook their heads and skewed their faces in disgust. They understood.
Mr. Ryan backed away from the center and picked a sandwich from the snack table. He threw it in my direction. I ducked, but it hit the person in front of me. She turned and threw something back, then, everyone started a massive food fight. I hunkered in a corner while glasses were tossed high in the air. Only the sound of sirens echoing in the distance broke it up.
They found Mr. Ryan covered in lettuce, cream, and other pastries. If only my coworkers knew the truth. Mr. Ryan was not the sort of man to offend anybody, but it gave me great satisfaction to see he get his “just desserts” for making me retire before my prime. 

You can read the original version on Writer’s Digest under 'Chilo" for the February 28, 2012 Writing Prompt at

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