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It's eight-thirty p.m., the outside temperature is sixteen degrees, there is a foot of snow on the ground and I'm in my bare feet running for my life. All because I like to kid around at work. That's right! I was just kidding around and here I am hoofing down the street with my shirt and coat in one hand and my shoes in the other while behind me a voice is shouting, "I'm going to kill you, you little cocksucker." In twenty years, if I'm lucky and still alive, I'll probably look back on this and have a good chuckle. Yeah! Right!

The whole thing started because of kidding around at work. I'm one of three guys that work in an office with over thirty women, almost all of whom are fairly attractive. Almost all of them are married or have boyfriends, but so what? I can still look and appreciate and that's not going to cause problems, right? Now I'm kind of mediocre in the looks department, not bad mind you, but nothing special, and most of the women I work with wouldn't look twice at me outside of the workplace. But at work - a totally different story.

The other two guys are both over sixty and in really bad shape; one is eighty pounds overweight, has inch thick glasses and the worst case of BO you've ever seen. The other is tall and skinny, has a hearing aid in both ears, smokes three packs a day and has yellow teeth and fingers. Compared to them I make Russell Crowe look bad and as a result all of the flirting that goes on in the office is between the ladies and me. ...

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