Facts of ... Work

For the last two days, Turkey's been walking around with a weird mark on his face. There was some minimal contemplation as to what it could be. Ring worm? It was as if none of us felt mentally prepared to stumble across some sordid truth.

Today Turkey came up to my desk and announced, "Are you just being polite, or did you really not notice this?" while pointing to his cheek. I gave a shit-eating grin and replied, "I'm super polite! But, are you okay? What happened?" Turkey explained that he was playing ball (he plays ball once a week) and got hit in the face by the ball. I gasped! "Did you fall down?" Turkey beamed at my attention and concern. "I did. I did fall down! Then I shook myself off, got some water, and went right back into the game." I nodded approvingly. "That's what a real athlete does." That comes across as sort of kiss-asseque but I really mean and believe it.

Today when Turkey came back from his therapy session (I'm not supposed to know that) he gave me a bouquet of flowers. I sputtered out all the appropriate wows and thank yous and asked what the occasion was. Turkey smiled and said he didn't want to make my ego any bigger "but let's just say you're very professional and classy and it's noticed."

HA HA HA! He thinks I'm classy! Turkey then went into a meeting. The Wasp came over to ask why he gave me flowers. I shrugged. "Guess all those blowjobs are finally paying off." Yeah. Because I'm classy.