Makin’ Copies
By J.M. Snyder
I’m at the water cooler, listening to Kevin’s story of how he fought off a horde of housewives for the last TMX Elmo in Toys ‘R Us, when I hear my name bellowed from the boss’s office. “Johnson!”
The few co-workers near me scatter. I wonder if I can slink away to my desk and pretend I didn’t hear when Mr. Sanford yells out again. “Johnson! In my office, now!”
“It was nice knowing you,” Kevin says as I toss my cup into the trashcan. I know all too well what this must be about—the office Christmas party last Friday night. God! Kevin claps a hand on my back like a nail hammered into my coffin. “The Rich-Meister, caught makin’ copies.”
“Shut up,” I mutter. With my head down, I move through the cubicles in our small office like a man going to the gallows. Ahead
