A MESSAGE FROM THE SUPPLIES CLOSET

Hi guys. I hope you're all having a great end of the quarter and an even better July. I'm sure many of you already have vacation plans--Joan, I see you already have your bags packed! Haha, yes, Aruba does sound nice. Hot hot hot! Yes, I love Buster Poindexter too. Ahhhh...

Okeedokee! To business!

The reason I requested you all take time from your lunch breaks--sorry for that but this does concern us all--I wanted to ask everyone one simple question, more of a request really. That question is, "Would everyone please stop fucking in me?"

Please? Would you? It would mean a lot. I know that you're all in a high-stress environment here, but let me assure you, having sex inside of me isn't going to make that go away. It's just going to leave stains. So would you mind?

That's great. Thank you. I know it's kind of an awkward thing for me to bring up in front of everyone, but the shear horror I experience almost nightly when people like, uh, like Martin over there--Hey Martin--ejaculate inside of me overrides any sense of responsibility to act politely. Really, it's that bad. You know how when you're at a bar and someone next to you just accidentally rubs a leg against you and it makes you feel a little gross because they've broken your "personal space bubble?" Well imagine if two people crawled into your peehole and started having sex in your bladder. Then you'll get some idea of what it's like to be me after-hours.

Hmmm...I'm looking around and I see a lot of disbelieving faces. Is it possible that you think I'm making all this up? I don't really see what I could gain from accusing a room full of people I see every day of having sex inside of me, but then I'm only a Supply Closet so what would I know, right? Well, for one, I know that Melina from Processing--hi Melina--I know that Melina likes to role play. Isn't that right Melina, or should I call you "The Captain?" Oh and I meant to ask, did you enjoy your latest overtime voyage to Spanktopia? I believe it was just last night that you sailed there with the new intern. Anal Ahoy!

Hey, speaking of long journeys, where are you sneaking off to, Joan? Trying to get to the airport early, or more likely do you have a little afternoon delight planned? I hope you're not planning on doing it inside of me as per usual, because Raoul will be restocking for the next few hours. But then, maybe you can ask him to participate! I'm sure he'd be into it. Hold on, I'll ask for you. Raoul, Raoul! Come here! Hey, what do you think about having a three-way with Joan and whoever she's doing this time? Great. See Joan, he's up for it. And yes, Raoul, she is a maricon.

Oh Rachel, you're blanching! Is it because your children are here--hello Jimmy, Janice, and... Jerry is it? Kids, let's take a little quiz. Have you ever wondered why mommy and daddy are both blue eyed and blond and yet all of you were miraculously born with curly black hair and brown eyes? What was mommy's explanation for that genetic anomaly again? Recessive alleles from grandpa, was it? That's funny, kids. Did he own a plantation? No I'm kidding, but do you know what my explanation is?

Dean. From Cost-Planning. Good work, Dean.

Oh hey Dean! Didn't see you there! What's that--you didn't know? Well, Happy Belated Father's Day, buddy. Good on ya. Kids, go ahead and wave hello to your real daddy. One last quiz children. Guess where you were conceived? I'll give you one hint:

It happened in a certain office supplies closet which is currently tired of being fucked in.

Give up? It was in me! Oh you guys are good at this!

Are we having fun yet, people?! I do so love these work functions.

And look, I know this will make intra-office affairs more difficult. I am aware of that, and God forbid fucking comes to a complete halt in the hallowed halls of American enterprise. Feel free to fuck. Fuck all you fucking want for fuck's fucking sake.

Just, for my sake, and the sake of the cleaning staff, don't do it inside of me anymore.

And so I don't to leave you in the proverbial lurch, I've already spoken to the Stairwell on your collective, fucking behalves, and he's agreed to take on a certain percentage of the current fucking going on, but only on floors 6 and above. The in-office day care is on 5 and he doesn't want to risk scarring your children the way you've scarred me.

So that's it. Just wanted to air it all out, so you know how I feel regarding the Herculean, nearly continuously parade of fucking that occurs inside of me. Ok, I have to get back to being a Supply Closet and you all have your individual jobs to do, which do not, I assume, involve fucking.

Have a great summer, have some fun, and don't forget to keep your work stations clean.