Since it’s 1:52am as I start this, and since I’ve polished off the first (!!!) pot of coffee, my sense of well being has been restored to optimal parameters, (for you gamers out there, it’s like I just picked up 14 med kits). That being the case, I wanted to share a story:
My lovely and talented wife, colloquially known as SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED (SWMBO), called me at the joint and asked if I was busy… After being married to this sweet, unassuming, 5 foot nothing, wisp of a woman for this long, I knew that meant “Stop EVERYTHING !!! I’m HANGRY !!!”
(As an aside, Hangry is a distinct combination of being so hungry/angry at being hungry, you find yourself in a mood where tearing the head off a grizzly bear with your bare hands to steal the Salmon it just caught, well, yeah, that seems like a good idea…)
In my most pleasant dulcet toned voice I assured her I would be right there with copious amounts of food for her and her co-workers… I know what the term “Running the Gauntlet” means. I also know that, according to those “people” she works with, “Sharing is Caring” and, conversely, not sharing equals a slow and painful death by a thousand staples followed by my lifeless body being fed into the paper shredder for an environmentally friendly and proper disposal.
As it turns out I had several racks of smoked ribs and an entire Angus Beef brisket that someone ordered and failed to pick up. (Which is why deposits are not refundable, kids)
I proceeded to wrap said ribs up in my pink butcher paper, sliced and diced the brisket up and made Nachos so as to stretch my meager offerings to the High Priestess of The Office Where She Who Must Be Obeyed currently holds Court, stuffed everything in my pre-heated Igloo Cooler and hot footed it over to Her Majesty’s Temple of processed cellulose fibers and organic ink.
Upon arrival at the Daytime Domain of my Lovely Wife, I heaved my cooler out of my trusty steed, and was immediately accosted by the resident lower level workers who ran away as soon as I declared what my mission was… For even they know not to face the wrath of my Hangry, itty bitty wife. Stepping lively over the lifeless bodies strewn hither and yon, which grew more dense as I neared her office, I sighed a prayer of relief that I had brought so much food – a simple sammich would have been a Death Sentence. Surely, she would have blown up with the force of 157 Hiroshima-type Atomic Bombs had I been so derelict in my duty to make sure her appetite was quenched.
Quaking with fear and trepidation, I quickly dispatched the assorted packages of Smoked meals to their awaiting, gaping maws… Soon the sound of rending plastic, torn paper and shredded foil was replacing by a crescendo of “NOM NOM NOM NOM” !!!!
A veritable blizzard of napkins was seen as Sparks and Smoke sauce flew in every direction, pitiless in it’s destruction of white blouses and colorful skirts…and still the Orgy of Consumption continued unabated… (By The Way: Orgy of Consumption is the name of my new band!!!)
Seeing that I had survived relatively unscathed, I made a hasty retreat, hauling the heavily scarred Igloo Cooler behind me, leaving only satisfied *BURPS* behind me… That is until…
I noticed, in the bottom of the cooler, a sauce laden Rack ‘O Ribs. It seems that the foil, which should have been holding all that juicy rib goodness had ruptured, allowing moisture of the best kind to permeate the pink wrappings. Seizing my chance at Tom Foolery, I stepped into the department Head Honcho’s office and declared “It’s your lucky day!!!” and placed the goo-laden packet on the corner of his desk. Since I knew his schedule would not permit him to eat right away, I felt smug in leaving my gift of Smoked Offerings…slowly gluing itself to his nicely polished desk.
Later that same day, I got wind that 7 mechanics, armed with pry bars, pneumatic chisels and a crane finally removed the ribs from Honcho’s desk…
He’s looking for a replacement desk, by the way… It didn’t, sad to say, survive the encounter, He did mention, however, how good the ribs were, though. So that’s nice.