2016-20 (2010-18) The Holiday Games

"What?!" the PFY exclaims, "We aren't invited to any parties?"

"No," the Boss responds, "The rest of the department is, but you won't be going ot any departmental Christmas parties this year."

"But we always go to Christmas parties! We get things going and keep the momentum up! We get the party happening!"

"Yes… that's the problem. Apparently your party games aren't generally well received."

"WHO DOESN'T LOVE THEM?"

"Usually the victim."

"The victim?"

"Yes. The target of Pin the Cattleprod on the Board Member for instance."

"It was dark," the PFY responds, "And the player mistook a cattleprod for a self-adhesive tail."

"It's an easy mistake to make," the Bastard adds dangerously, "Many's the time I've picked up a cattleprod thinking it was a lint remover while grooming your predecessors before an important meeting about slashing the IT budget."

"And anyway," we pick up, "Tjhat was only one game, and only the beancounter's department."

"Yes, I heard about the subsequent game of Pin the Blame on the Accountant. I heard he thought he was playing some variant on Laser Strike."

"I think he'd been drinking," the PFY says, turning to his keyboard, Speaking of which, anyone got the little "addition" for the non-alcoholic punch?

"Or what about the Pinata disaster in HR a few years ago? And don't think I don't notice you insulting me over the IM system."

"We aren't insulting you, and it was just a couple of games that met with tragic consequences. The winner of the blindfold wheelie chair race rolled into the circle right after the cricket bats were passed out."

"He says he wad duct-taped into the chair!"

"That's just the concussion talking."

"So it was an accident?"

"Yes."

"Like the toaster in the punch bowl?"

"A warning to us all about placing an electrical appliance next to a large bowl of liquid."

"P.R. says you brought the toaster with you!" the Boss counters the PFY's argument

"Of course!" the Bastard butts in, "d'oeuvres are undercooked – and with the fish fillings it's a good idea to ensure they're cooked through. No one expected the toaster to fall off the Lazy Susan."

"Except the Deputy Head of HR who was wearing rubber gloves and standing on a rubber mat when the Director dipped in the ladle?"

"And if you look at the end of year financial transactions it may seem that there's some form of service being offered to departments with unpopular people. Th emoney gets sent to you but no IT items turn up at their offices."

'That's the problem with a December 31 close off date. They give us the money but the kit doesn't show up in time. If it doesn't get receipted in this calendar year, so it ends up coming off of next year's budget."

The Boss wisely decides not to inquire further about what happens to the money, shuffling papers so that he can read what his next topic is, short term memory not being his strong suit.

"Actually, there isn't a Christmas party at all, to prevent 'incidents.' In lieu of the cost we're giving out bonuses instead."

"Well," the PFY says, disappointment vanishing faster than chocolates at a Weight Watchers weigh-in, "Everyone likes a nice little cash bonus."

"Well, it's not exactly cash. To foster keeping money in the company we're issuing the bonus in meal vouchers."

"B-Bu… But the meals are free!" the Bastard stammers, gobsmacked.

"Not as of next year… Unless you're above 5.8 paygrade at least."

***A FEW HOURS LATER***

We glance around the darkened carpark basement to review our troops. Two dozen 5.8 and unders, all armed to the teeth wearing a variety of night vision goggles. We push down Ada's trifocal "Trident" goggles and set for EM. We glance towards the elevator and watch the car float down. A burst of radio emerges from the lift and a car unlocks.

"Sounds like we've got us a smart one," we murmur to the PFY.

"Ssshhh..." the Bastard shushes, "Situation report?"

We switch our Tridents to IR. "Okay, looks like about a dozen human heat sources. Elevator control panel says they're coming nonstop from the sixth floor," We speak up a little louder and announce "Showtime."

Two dozen magazines are slammed into receivers and two dozen charging handles are yanked back. Two dozen safeties click off. "On my mark..." We flip our goggles to Night Vision and aim towards the elevator.

The lift slides past B1 and stops at B2. The doors grind open. "Group One! Mark!" A dozen fingers pull back on a dozen triggers, releasing several dozen rounds per second. "Group One, Reload! Group Two, Fire!" A dozen magazenes are ejected from a dozen rifles and new ones are loaded while the second dozen keep up the fire.

In retrospect this was the best Christmas party in company history. Two dozen peons with fully automatic paintball guns pelting a lift full of managers with half-frozen paintballs. And security apparently noticed nothing.

Must have been a power glitch.

Happy Holidays to you all, no matter which one you celebrate. Even if you don't at all, have a good last week of December and everyone have a great new year!

I'm not going to post in Decom Admin for a while so I can focus on Fusion, I'll see you when I get done with Sector 4!