The banquet couldn't have gone better, the Chairman told himself. The people who gathered in the great hall always enjoyed the spread he laid before them. The customers' plates of finest china had been loaded again and again with roast beef and Cornish hens, with mouth-watering side dishes and a fabulous dessert bar. The people at the tables always came back for the free food, their only "payment" having to endure several product demonstrations in the lobby. Some bought the biodegradable bamboo vacuum cleaners, others just gawked at the Happy Funtime Clown Home Colonoscopy Kit, but all agreed it was an interesting evening out.

The Chairman was in the middle of the big speech, praising his client base for sticking with him through thick and thin, when he gave the signal to the waiters that it was time for the Surprise.

"And so, in appreciation for ALL you've done to make us something close to a success, we have a little something for you all."

To rapturous applause, a giant stack of gift wrapped packages was wheeled out. The immaculately dressed waiters placed a package at every place setting with white gloved hands. Everybody in the banquet hall opened their box, and in each box was a prickly desert cactus with huge sharp needles. Rumbles of confusion rippled through the room.

Finally one individual stood up. "Um, excuse me, but what exactly are we supposed to do with these?"

The company chairman looked at him bemusedly. "Why, you're supposed to SIT on them, of course."

More rumbles rippled through the room.

"What the hell kind of crazy-ass thing is this supposed to be? I'm NOT going to sit on any goddamn cactus!"

The dissenter got a standing ovation, but the Chairman was again motioning for silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, maybe I haven't made myself clear. You WILL be sitting on these cactii. In about five minutes we'll be removing all the chairs for a Knights of Columbus banquet down the hall. The cactii in front of you are considered the right shape and size to bear the weight of any of you."

One adventurous soul did some mental math and decided his jeans were tough enough to withstand the cactus, and was about to sit on the cactus. On a cue from the chairman, a couple of waiters stopped him before he could test his theory.

The Chairman chuckled to himself. "No, you don't understand. No pants."

Quite a few people were livid, although those who used these events for flirtation purposes were already dropping trou, landing fast and hard on the sharp prickles. Since they always had trouble sitting still anyway, the blood began to flow rather quickly.

Their chairs were removed to the other hall, and the waiters doused their cuts with copious amounts of lemon juice. The screams were troublesome, but the first victims did manage weak smiles. "It won't be so bad," one hoarsley whispered to her neighbor. "You'll see."

"There we go." The Chairman's voice had all the sincerity of a grade school teacher telling the Easter Bunny story. "You see? Once you get used to it, it isn't that bad."

As a few of the more timid diners began planting themsleves on the cactii, the flower arrangements were removed by the waiters, replaced by steaming piles of cow crap on silver trays with doilies.

Many accusing eyes focused on the Chairman.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to mention. There's going to be a minor change in the decorations. The flowers were rented by the hour, so we have to send them back right now."

A number those who hadn't folded yet shot each other conspiratorial looks, and as a group threw their cow pies at the Chairman. One of them landed square in the center of his white linen suit to scattered applause.

The Chairman looked nastily at the dissenters. "Listen, you freaky little punks, if you want to stay and eat for free, you WILL sit on the cactus in front of steaming plates of poo and you will SMILE as you do it."

Most of the stragglers heard this, and more than a few, who couldn't PAY for a meal in a hall like this on their own, swallowed their pride and sat on their cactii. The screams were getting to be quite deafening, especially when the plates of roast beef were replaced by the carcasses of dead Great Danes. To the diners' growing horror, the dead dogs now being set in front of them weren't even cooked; some of them were still warm. However, the ones who had rationalized the cactus decision shrugged and tucked in. After all, they'd already sat on the damn cactus, so they didn't DARE complain about the dead dog on their plate.

The rest of them told the chairman to go fuck himself and walked across the street for a Big Mac. However, they had to use the drive-through, since the Chairman had left a ring of flaming bags of dog crap around all available exits.

The moral of the story: we're probably going to use AIM for our chats soon. Don't say you weren't warned.

-- Easy E-W