Chicken

chicken-1082328_960_720The eyeball of a chicken is stationary; thus, a chicken must move its head to vary the range of vision.

And thus was so in that office – it felt like all the staff had moved their heads in unison to follow Mike as he walked in that morning, as if their eyeballs could not work of their own volition and needed the involvement of shoulders, neck, head to allow them to trace his orbit.

I could already see what the outcome of the day would: Mike had really messed up and would be dead meat BEOD.

Still, he walked in head held high, now going past his desk. Wait a minute, this has just got a lot more interesting?! He just walked past his desk? Where was he going?

Mike continued walking to the end of the open-plan floor, turning into the managers’ offices area. Now the staff looked like Meerkats, lifting their torsos and stretching their necks, desperately trying to see which office he was going to go in to, but once he’d gone around that corner hed gotten out of sight.

“Rich, I’m going to the loo” – I said, raising from my chair.

“Oh? Yes, I see. Go on, then”

I wasn’t fooling anyone and to be honest, I didn’t care. I walked quickly, turned right but, off course, I was too late. He had already gone in.

“What do I do with myself now?” I thought, hovering in front of the closed doors. I couldn’t hear any sounds coming out of any of the rooms… Well, I might as well actually go to the toilet. Walking past the men’s, now I could actually hear something. Was that Mike? I peered in and yes, it was Mike. He was throwing up and had not even bothered to close the cubicle door.

“Mike, you OK?!” -well, obviously he wasn’t.

“Lucy, sis, I don’t think I can go through this day. I can’t remember a thing form the party last night and I feel like I have the mother of all hangovers” – he replied through dry heaving.

“Oh crap, Mike. You are in deep shit! You really can’t remember a thing?”

“No, Nada.”

“Well, let’s just say that by the end of today we will probably be both fired.”

“That bad?! What on earth…?”

And it just kept getting worst. Mr McManis had just walked in the toilet.

“Morning, Mr McManis” – week voice coming from the loos.

“Morning, Mike. I can see that the day is not starting that well for you. And good morning, Lucy. Unusual to find you in here?”

“Err, yes, Mr McManis, I was just leaving.”

“Seeing as your brother is not looking fit for purpose just now, feel free to stay. Don’t mind me.”

He walked into a cubicle whilst Mike sent me desperate looks of what-on-earth-did-I-do.

Washing his hands a few minutes later: “Well Mike, do come down and see me in my office when you feel a bit less worn out?”

I rushed to Mike’s side the moment the door closed behind me: “you kissed the boss’s daughter last night.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did”

“That’s something I would definitely remember! And why would I do that?!”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Shit”

“Right, then, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Was she drunk?”

“Nah, just you.”

“Clearly. I would never go a mile near her if I wasn’t. I remember what happened to James when he broke up with her. Poor bastard didn’t last a week in the office.”

“Hmm…”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Just the whole office. You won at darts and, to celebrate, you grabbed your team member – the aforementioned Marta, the boss’s daughter, you know, and you kissed her. And then she kissed you back. And then you guys were kissing for a very long time…”

“And I can’t remember it! What a waste!”

I am pretty sure that the thing my eyes did then is what is generally described as rolling around in their sockets.

“I’m out, Mike. Back to work. Sort it out?”

“I’ll think of something, sis.”

I grinned back at him and at that moment his phone biped. I hanged by the door, curious, as he digged it out of his trousers’ back pocket.

“What the… How does she have my phone number?”

“Marta?”

“Oh, she’s asking me out for dinner?! That’s one date I am not chickening out of.”

“OK, I can see where this is going… I’ll start looking for a new job, then…”

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