www.cyberslayer.co.uk

 


Dear Friends:

When I came into the office this morning, I noticed a sort of
general feeling of unfriendliness and since several of you have
openly called me a dirty son-of-a-bitch to my face, I know I must
have done something wrong at our office party last Friday.  The
Office Manager called me today from the hospital and so this is my
last day here.  I would like to take this way of apologizing to all
of you.  I would prefer speaking to each of you personally, but all
of you seem to go deaf and dumb whenever I try to talk to you.

First, to our dear and beloved boss, Mr. Simons, I am sorry for all
the things I called you Friday afternoon.  I am very much aware
your father is not a baboon, nor your mother a whore.  Your wife is
a delightful woman and my story of you buying her for fifty cents
in Tia Juana was a fragment of my imagination.  Your children are
undoubtedly yours too.  About the water cooler incident, well, you
will never know how badly I feel about it and I hope they didn't
hurt your head when they were trying to get the glass jug off.

To Miss Ashby, I express my deepest regrets.  In my own defense I
must remind you that you seemed to enjoy our little escapade on the
stairs as much as I did until the bannister broke and we fell eight
feet to the second floor landing.  In spite of the rupture you
incurred when I landed on top of you, I am sure you will admit that
when we landed it was one of the biggest thrills you have ever had.

Sam Franklin, you old cuss, you've just got to forgive me for that
little prank I played on you.  If I had known you were goosey, I'd
never have done it.  It could have been a lot worse if that fat
lady had not been standing right under the window you jumped
through; she broke your fall a lot.  People have been killed
falling three stories.

George, I can't tell you how sorry I am that I went all over the
office, telling everyone that you cheated on a third grade exam.
You know I was kidding...how could I know you did a thing like
that?  But for Emory to say he was going to record this in your
personnel file...well, don't you think that is going too far?

Miss Jenkings, I sincerely apologize for saying that you were HIV
positive.  I'm sure this rumor will cut way down on your extra-
curricular activities, and all I can say it that it was the punch
talking, not me.  Perhaps you can bring in a certificate from your
doctor?

Fred Owens, I know you are not a convicted felon, and that you
didn't leave the party early because you had to report to your
parole officer.  I was just joking when I said I was going to
report you to the cops.



Mr. Gray, I regret telling the firemen it was you who turned in the
alarm, but of course, I had no way of knowing they would have such
bad attitudes bout it.  Those fire hoses sure have a lot of
pressure, don't they?

Bill Thomas, I know how you must have felt about me.  Opening the
door to the mop closet suddenly must have startled you and Miss
Finch quite a bit, and when I think of how hard you bumped your
chin on the sink when you bent over to pull up your pants, it makes
me sick.  We'll have to get together for dinner some night after
the dentist finishes your plate.

Hermon, putting that tennis ball in the toilet was unforgivable.
I wasn't thinking about how many people would be using the toilet
after drinking all that punch, and the way that thing flooded all
over the floor and out into the hall...well, you would think they
would make the neck of those toilets a little bigger, wouldn't you?
I notice this morning that most of the water has been mopped up, so
I guess that little stunt really did ruin your week-end.  Sorry
'bout that.

Miss Brown, the only excuse I can offer for stealing all of your
clothes and hiding them when I found you had passed out in the
Ladies Room, was that I was drunk.  Also, I want you to know I was
very embarrassed when I could not remember where I hid them and you
had to go home in that sofa cover.  Running your falsies up the
flagpole was a bit too much, I guess, but like I said, I was
little drunk.

To all the rest of you, I am sorry.  Setting Mrs. Botts' lace
panties on fire seemed funny idea at the time, and it makes me sad
to hear that her husband is divorcing her because of it.  Going wee
wee in the punch was in awful taste, too, and not telling until you
all drank it was even worse.

Now that I have apologized to all and know I am forgiven, I have a
big surprise for you.  Even though I don't work here anymore, I'm
going to do my damndest to get back to the office picnic next
Friday.

                              Regards,


                               Stan