Office-Wide CPR Class Day!

You never meant to fall in love with nobody. All's you wanted was a weekly paycheck commensurate with your thirty-six and a quarter hours of half-hearted clerical assistance so as to cover the 62 hours of gentle drinking there in your living room easy chair underneath a single 55 watt bulb each weekend (you once lost your breath thinking about the day that bulb's gonna burn out). How much gin does it take to drench a heart to the point of maximum absorption? You just wanna pickle yourself airtight so nothing else can seep in.

But your heart wants what it wants and it couldn't care less about how you choose to carry out your suicide. There in that tiny supply closet searching for paper clips with your back to the door you were like a jackrabbit caught in the sites of an elephant gun (ie. defenseless. (what's an elephant gun? is it big?)). You didn't hear a thing. You might even have been singing a song to yourself. You turned around and the bemused smile blocking the doorway suddenly became the only thing you'd ever let yourself think upon in the few moments of blackout consciousness you'd savor just before passing out into your pillow each evening.

Since then the basement copy center has grown suspicious of your motives since you're the only one who asks that your dupes be held there for you to pick up at 11:45 each morning rather than letting the mailroom carry them up to you. They have their theories, but would never guess that you time your copy center trips to coincide precisely with his/her visits to the basement level New World Coffee vendor. At least twice a week you manage to enjoy 45 to 75 seconds alone together, waiting for the elevator to make its way below ground level and carry you back to your desks. You assumed, since you learned of your new love inside your supply closet, that the two of you shared a floor. But unfortunately he or she was only there thanks to a tip-off in the cafeteria that your floor's supply closet was the only one that still had a box of the letter size accordian files that had been temporarily removed from the online requisition catalogue (due to ferocious outcry, the product has since been made available again). Outside of the trips to the coffee vendor, you haven't seen hide nor tail of the adorable beast anywhere in the building, but thanks to your elevator rides, you are now on single-syllable greeting terms.

Hey. (Head tilt to right.)

Mm. (Nod. But with a bat of the eyes that seems to last the duration of an Indian summer.)

Well you've got some steps planned out for how to get the two of you on panted swearing terms and it's all gonna go down in conference room 25D (unfurnished) where the one you admire from afar will be the one you admire during Volunteer Emergency CPR Class between 2 and 2:45 this afternoon. When you saw his or her name on the signup sheet, you put your name down without even checking what the event was about just so you could have the two of your names on the same sheet of paper for the entire floor to see. Then you started thinking about the CPR training they made you take during gym class in high school and how hot it could sometimes get and you thought maybe you shouldn't miss the opportunity to show him or her just how you look when you press your gently parted lips up against a dyked out lady's asphyxiating plastic head. He or she will have no choice but to slip into a daydream of you pouring your caring and your warmth into your fingertips as you slowly pull the zipper of the dummy's blue jumpsuit through the teeth until that plastic gay lady just wants to drip from the baby blue polyester like a goldfish from an unknotted plastic baggy.

All you gotta use is your eyes (visine the red out aforehand, you dig Rummy?). When it's your turn to put the moves on Plastic Sapphy, just get down on your knees real hesitant and slow, not letting your kneecaps make a sound when they touch the ground, like you can't believe the two of you (you and the dummy) are there in that room together and at the slightest creak of the bones you might jump up and run from the room out of fear of making a terrible mistake for which your heart might never forgive you. Before you bend in for the kiss, put a little baby smile on your face and send a pop of your eyes up to that beautiful thing and he or she will start wishing they had called for volunteers to take the place of the polysterene field hockey enthusiast you're about to plant one on. Then just bend in and blow.

Your lips to the plastic, a grin to your eyelids, look up at him or her while you resuscitate the dummy. Let him or her know there is life to be found in those lips of yours. "A life whose every waking moment is devoted to thoughts of you. Delicious you." When you rock back on your knees to pump the air out of the braided rat-tailed dummy's lungs, give the dummy's face a smile that says, "Whether you live or die, I will not leave your side." And when you send your lips down for another kiss, do not let your eyes wander from the eyes of the one you love for one millisecond of your descent down onto that mouth. And this time pump your breath into that mouth with the pant of sweetest surrender. Also, make sure you lift your ass up in the air real high too and bob it up and down with your panting. If you do this the right way, you two will be "doing it" before you can say "that dummy's hairdo is kind of butch, dontcha think?"

Happy Office-Wide CPR Class Day!