Slap Happy

     I look out my office day after day. I see the building across from me. I look and watch and think while I eat at my desk. Every day I see what goes on.
     Another person is sitting in his chair eating his lunch, probably watching me watching him.
     A cleaning woman vacuums an office on the first floor that’s where the cheap offices are, cheap in more than one way. Her boss gets her not so unwillingly to sit on his lap. Then they do it- sometimes more than once, depending on how early they start. I guess they don’t see or care that the window is not shaded. Or maybe they just don’t care. I know that woman.
     There’s a fat man in the office next to them. He always eats four Big Macs and two orders of fries with a giant soda. I wondered how he managed to get up to go home. Maybe he didn’t, I never looked before I went home myself
     There is a woman who would turn the radio on and do all her old dance moves.
     Boogie on, skinny woman.
     A man on the third floor would lie down on the couch in his office and fall asleep. His secretary would come and slap him until he finally woke up, then he slapped her this happened every day.
     A woman on the eighth floor had her daughter in for lunch. She was thoroughly fascinated my the verticals, flipping them opened and closed until her mother finally could take it no longer and made her sit down, she gave her a box of paper clips to play with. She always put them all together in one long chain. Then she put them around, causing them to whip around like a helicopter blade.
     The guy on the top floor in the impeccable suit usually always spilled coffee all over his pants. His dry cleaning bill must be astronomical. I wondered if he would ever run out of suits. For the rest of the day he sat behind the desk with no pants on- even during afternoon meetings.
     On the eighth floor a secretary came in, sat behind the desk. She acted as if it were her office and that she was in charge. Then she faced the window and read one of those cheap romance novels.
     The woman next door to that sat there eating a container of yogurt decided she hated it, so she heaped spoonful after spoonful of it, flinging at the window. Then she opened a drawer and pulled out an enormous chocolate bar and ate it in about a minute.
     A man in a greasy short sleeve shirt with a red tie that nearly covered his belly was on the floor next to the Big Mac guy. He turned on a little TV and watched what looked to be a soap opera. He put his feet- with no socks on. He had the ugliest feet I’ve ever seen. H ate a great big bag of pork rinds and a bog milk shake. How did he eat that without getting sick? I nearly got sick just looking at it. Then he would open his pants.
     The rest of the offices were empty most days. Every now and then I would go to lunch. In a way, I kind of missed all he fun. It was kind of hypnotic. And then, I wondered if anything happened that was different while I was away.
     I also wondered if anyone ever watched me. Most of them looked busy- at least at lunch. But there was a little paranoid spark that couldn’t help but wonder.

15 November, 2003
This was a whole lot of fun writing. I could barely keep a straight face as I wrote it, especially the “slap” part.


2 Responses to “Slap Happy”

  1. With all that eating and losing of pants I can only say, along with you, boogie on, skinny woman!

  2. thums up!!!!

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