330pm:  On a break, from work.  The best time of the week. Oh yeah, it’s Friday.

Beaver, Kelly, Liz and Chicken B.  Such silly goofs.

The conversation is titillating. Did I say tits?

An innocent comment, and then it begins.

What’s that hanging out of your pjs, Beav?

Are you on steroids?

Hey, Kelly, what’s with that nudist Halloween party?  Can you carry your purse?

Hey, Liz, what do you mean? Brian doesn’t think we are funny?

Let’s get together and clasp our hands together and drive the demons  out of the Beav’s pajama pants.

Shhhhhhhhhh.  Quiet down. There are people who are leaving work. With all the clasping, shaking and laughing, our coworkers might get the idea that doom is impending.  An earthquake?  A nuclear meltdown?  Or just the silly rabbits in customer service?

There they were:  Liz and Beav in pajamas. Carol in her bumble butt…. oops, bumble bee outfit, and Kelly, with her messenger bag slung over her shoulder, making feeble attempts of portraying a professional façade.

In 10 minutes, it was over.

Back to work.

Serious, concentrated, focused.

And secretly thinking….

No matter how difficult the work week, we can’t wait for next Friday, at 330pm.

 

Wolf

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