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Episode 20: Frat House Follies – Part III

Alex was typing a memo to his boss, when he walked into the room, interrupting Alex’s thought process (like usual).

“Have you seen the temp receptionist?”

Alex accepted that he would have to ride out the conversation, so he turned to engage with his office mate.

“Yes. And?”

“So, I was speaking to her all nice, trying to plant the seeds, when she stood up and I saw her stomach.”

“She’s pregnant.”

“Well I know now! That was a close one!”

“Yeah, could have been awkward.”

Alex went to turn back to his desk, however he was interrupted by a little voice in his head.

“Let’s have a little fun…”

“No, I should really get back to work.”

“You work so hard. Treat yourself. He’s ripe for the picking…”

The little voice contorted Alex’s face let out a wry smile. Alex was consumed by the Little Devil.

“Soooo, have you made the opposite error and mistakenly thought that a woman was pregnant when she wasn’t? “

“Oh yeah, but I have never actually asked. Could you imagine?”

“Disaster.”

The Little Devil dug deeper.

“When you started working here, was there anyone in the office who you thought might have been pregnant?”

“Oh totally, there are a couple of fatties here.”

“Did you actually think they might be pregnant though?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“But you never asked?”

“No, but after chatting to them a few times I figured they weren’t because they never mentioned cravings or kicking or mood swings or any of those other pregnant things.”

The Little Devil set the dynamite.

“In an ideal world, if you were to ask a co-worker if she was pregnant, how would you do it?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Of course.”

“And I’ve got any means possible to ask the question?”

“Ahhhh, sure. Within reason.”

“That’s two different scenarios. Which is it? Within reason or any means possible?”

The Little Devil was tickled with intrigue.

“Fine. Any means possible.”

“I would set up a fake awards ceremony in the office. A real black tie affair. I would be the awards presenter; like Billy Crystal at the Oscars. Tuxedo, bow tie, shiny black shoes. We’d hold it in the boardroom and there’d be waiters walking around serving Champagne and nibbles. I would set up a stage with a podium and people would come up and collect their award. The awards would be bogus – everyone would get one. Stupid awards, like best hair or most adorable laugh. So, everyone would be having a great time, enjoying the nibbles, basking in their awards and THEN I would call out HER name for… say… best typist in the office or something. She would come up and get her award, I would shake her hand, congratulate her and THEN, looking down at her stomach, I WOULD SAY:

‘And I believe there are TWO congratulations in order, right?’

“And I would look at her, then down at her stomach, then back at her, pausing, with a big goofy grin on my face, just WAITING for her reaction, with everybody in shock, staring silently at us.”

Fully satiated, the Little Devil disappeared into the inner depths of the psyche and Alex returned, unsure how to process what he just heard.

“Well… I can see why you asked for any means possible. That one been on your mind a while, buddy?”

“Nah, just came to me.”

This is the Chronicles of Creepy Pants.

Stay tuned for Episode 21: Storm in a Pee Cup

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4 thoughts on “Episode 20: Frat House Follies – Part III

  1. I’m pretty sure that happened to me. And I wasn’t pregnant.

    Okay, I’m just fucking with you. BUT, as a fan of the loose, empire waist dress, I have been asked, on occasion, if I’m with child. My response is, “No. I’m just fat.” Always with a smile, of course. One woman who runs a Thai place that my husband and I frequent has asked me THREE times if I’m pregnant. Two of those times occurred within a few weeks of each other. I’m thinking, “Yeah, bitch. I told you I wasn’t preggers last time. Do you really think I’ve gotten so big that you’d notice I’m pregnant in just a few weeks? Maybe you think I lied to you last time? Or maybe you just insult all your chubby clients?” Of course, I told her the second time, “No, I’m still just fat.” I’m going to start telling people that I have a stomach tumor, burst into tears and then just walk away. That’ll get ’em.

    • Perhaps you could tell her that the food made you bloated and demand a refund. Or maybe just don’t tip her. I think verbally mistaking a patron as being pregnant is universally considered bad service.

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