Scene 1, Act I.
Location: Work
I sit at my assigned desk for the day, minding my own business (reading texts from last night-no idea what I’m talking about? click here) in a quad with three highly toxic, 40 (possibly 50) something women (who have nothing better to do with their lives than obsessively gossip about one another while pretending to be eachothers bffs) when a friend comes by my desk to ask me if I want to go for break.
Friend: Wanna go for break?
Me: Sure man, let’s go.
Toxic 40something woman (one who never actually comes to work but insists that she’s always there and always tired from all the work she’s been doing—also incredibly anal about the ergonomics of her chair): Oh, what’s that scar?
note: Friend has big scar on left leg because she was run over by a car. Not joking.
Friend: Who me?
Toxic 40something woman: Yeah. How did that happen?
Friend (in the most deadpan demeanor ever): Oh, it was a shark attack.
Toxic 40something woman: What?!?
Friend: Yeah, I was scuba diving in Belize and it just happened.
note: I have now swiveled around in my chair to face the wall because I am silently laughing uncontrollably.
Toxic 40something woman: Well that’s why I never go swimming. Shark see some pretty legs in the water and it just take a bite like that. Ugh Ugh, not me.
me and friend exit quad silently.
Uncontrollable laughter ensues.
True Story.
The End.
