Is that not one of the most bizarre sentences you’ve read in the last 12 minutes? The troubling thing is, it’s true.
OK, there’s a pretty mundane reason for this: our PR person has come up with a new twist in soliciting donations from employees for the latest charity my company is sponsoring. Anyone can send anyone else a set of 2, 5 or 10 flamingos for a set donation. The receiving party, when they tire of all the neon avian faux fauna cluttering up their office, will call out to have them picked up, which will also cost them a donation (though this one is voluntary, but considered good form to oblige). My manager volunteered to have our office distribute and collect flamingos on the condition that no one in our office could be, uh, “flamingoed”. And so the dirty dozen (a set of 10 and 2) sit here awaiting delivery, which won’t happen until Monday.
Right now they’re all piled on top of each other, mostly sniffing each others asses or other anatomy, but two of them are eerily staring right at me. To top it off, there’s a major lightning storm going on outside and I fear that the electricity in the air will bring the inflatable menaces to life.
Where do these things come from? I’ve checked them over and the only notable anatomical feature I can see is an air intake valve on the left buttock. How do they get inflated? Do they blow each other up? And more importantly, WHY HAVE I NEVER SEEN A BABY INFLATABLE FLAMINGO?
I don’t know where this is going. I’m bored and scared. Feel free to offer suggestions.
Oh god, one of them just moved. Help me!