I was busy working at my desk, trying to find a way to erase Alan's crayon marks from the monthly reports when I noticed that the large potted Palm in the corner of the office was moving. It was edging towards my desk. It was then I realized that there was no potted plant in the corner of the office and after a closer examination (about 0.3 milliseconds) I realized it wasn't a plant at all, but in fact a blonde woman wearing a dozen palm branches sitting in a very large basket. Sighing, I got up and walked up to her.

"You might want to stop doing that. You're going to get dirt all over the carpet." I told her.

Harley looked up at me. "I don't know what you're talking about Alan's secretary. I'm just a pretty houseplant."

"Harley, houseplants don't talk."

"Oh." Harley seemed a little down, but had a comeback. "Well Magical houseplants do!"

"Harley. Stop. You're not fooling anybody."

She finally took the hint. "Dang! How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"I'm a smart girl, I figured it out. And the fact it was blatantly obvious had a little something to do with it."

"Darn! Jeffrey told me this was a bad disguise. I hate it when he's right."

"Well, if it makes any difference, I didn't know it was a disguise when I wasn't looking at you at all." I offered.

That seemed to brighten her up. "Really?" she asked.

"Of course dear. Now why don't you tell me exactly why you're in the worst houseplant disguise ever inching through Spaulding Enterprises?"

"Cuz Jeffrey told me too. Well, except the disguise part. That was my idea."

"Hon. Why exactly are you even here?"

It was then Alan walked up.

"Ms. Rinsler, why are you talking to that houseplant?"

"It's not a houseplant sir, it's Harley Cooper with a bunch of palm leaves taped to her shirt."

"Are you alright Ms. Rinsler?" Alan said.

"Oh, she's fine," said Harley.

"My God!" yelled Alan, obviously surprised, "A talking houseplant!"

"Mr. Spaulding, it's not a talking houseplant, it's Harl-"

"Ms. Rinsler, this is brilliant! A talking houseplant! We could make millions!" yelled Alan. "Now, tell me Ms. Rinsler, how did you teach this houseplant to talk?"

"I'm a magical houseplant!" Harley said enthusiastically.

Moron was overjoyed. "Of course! Excellent! Ms. Rinsler, take this plant down to Spaulding labs, see if they can make copies of it." He started to go into his office. "Talking Magical Houseplants! A household product! It will make us millions!" he paused a second. "I hope Microsoft hasn't done it yet." He closed the door, leaving me alone with our company's newest product: Harley Cooper with her palm branch shirt.

I turned to Harley. "Go home Ms. Cooper."

"But I'm going to be a household product."

"Go home."

Morons. Sigh. How long until Friday?