Eat Me, Whispered the Corn Flakes

I screamed and ran past them all toward Bootingaily's office. The sounds of their orgy followed me like the reverberations of an earthquake. In the hall I heard a strangled cry of "Look out below, pilgrims!" and looked up just in time to avoid being hit in the elbow with a stream of sperm from the ceiling above. Two people had been doing it atop a filing cabinet.

Bootingaily was in his office, thumbing through a copy of Penthouse. His erection strained his blue cotton Dockers.

"What the heck happened here?!" I shouted. "I demand to see the sexual harrassment policy you were supposed to institute last week, and if I don't see it right now, I'm calling my editor from the nearest pay phone, as well as the editors of The New York Times, Le Monde, and This Week in Tufton Flats!"

"The policy went into effect the day after you left!" Bootingaily protested, putting the Penthouse down but using one finger to hold his place. He shoved the new employee handbook across his desk to me. I flipped to chapter seven, entitled "Sexual Harrassment in the Workplace and Profit Pusher's 'I Care' Program." The chapter was one third of a page long. These are the only words I was greeted with:

1) Employees probably shouldn't gadoogle other employees in the middle of business meetings with other companies. Under-the-table stroking should suffice in these situations.

2) Linda in Payroll likes to take it in the wetmelon only on Thursdays and Fridays for some reason. To her it's strictly a "weekend" thing. Whatever.

3) Doing anything other than groping or finger-yoidling next to the coffee machine can really be dangerous. Remember that thing that happened to Dave. Ouch.

4) Try not to go spungo in a female employee's hair if that employee has a teleconference that day.

"THIS IS IT?!" I bellowed. "THIS is what your attorneys came up with?!" "Well, first of all, it's not quite fair to call them 'attorneys'. They're still in the law school application process. But some of these guys got B's and C's in college, so it's only a matter of time before they're ready."

I hung my head low. "I give up," I said. "I don't even have the energy to write the silly article anymore. No one would believe me, anyway. I'd be laughed out of my editor's office if I tried to describe what this place was like." "There, there," Bootingaily said, moving around his desk. "It's not right that an attractive young woman like yourself should suffer all this stress. An attractive young woman whose flowing blonde hair and large, round zoomers should have you thinking about other things in life. I think what you really need is....a bowl of cereal."

"Yes," I said gratefully. "Please....please, a bowl of cereal."

Bootingaily went to a side cabinet and opened it. I glimpsed a box of Vaginalicious Penispops and closed my eyes as I heard the peaceful sound of two percent milk splash over a new bowl's contents. When I opened my eyes again, Bootingaily was holding the bowl at kind of an odd angle, sort of pressed below his waist for some reason. I didn't care. All I thought about was the cereal and how soothing it might be to my jangled psyche. I shoveled mouthful after mouthful as Bootingaily held the bowl firmly in front of him.

"That's a girl," he said, sounding pleased. Well, I thought, at least he had pride in his company's product. "Now, drink down the rest of the milk...." And I did, and I probably don't have to tell you, the worldly reader, about what horrifyingly popped into my mouth as the milk disappeared, and the evil tricks that an ogre like the CEO of Profit Pusher could conjure involving the cutting of a hole in the bottom of what had truly seemed like a genuine porcelain bowl. At first I thought I had merely gotten hold of an unusually large and firm faux-banana marshmallow, and excited by my good fortune, I began to suck on it heartily. It was Bootingaily's revolting "Ahhhhhhh" sound that clued me in to the truth. My reaction was understandably cataclysmic.

But when that terrible man, that terrible, strangely polite, and rather attractive man, made me an offer I simply could not refuse, I found myself with that hard sausage in my mouth again. I suppose there are just some men in this world who understand on some innate, primal level that no girl could possibly resist the challenge to design and oversee her own line of nutritious oat cereals, and to be offered a full-time job as a Profit Pusher consultant on all cereal matters in the eastern third of the United States.

I suppose it may not have been necessary to yoidle Ted right then and there in my girlish delight over that amazing new opportunity, but don't you see that I had just won the Irish Sweepstakes of cereal fantasy and could no longer control myself? That wasn't really me who ripped off my blouse and bra right there in the office, climbed on top of him, and lowered myself onto his throbbing gavel—it was a being I call Cereal Witch, and Lord knows I wish I could control her. I'm sure only another woman can understand the uncontrolled eroticism of breakfast in a bowl. I mean, there's milk, a bowl, and little bits of frosted this-and-that....do I have to draw you a picture?

"Yeah, shnazz me, sweetie!" I cried as I rolled over and let Ted slide Mister Salty in from behind. "Oh, you bad bad manufacturer of the most important meal of the day!"

"I think your CHOODLE'S gonna be my most important meal of the day!" came the reply.

"Wow, I'll bet YOU'D stay hard in milk!" I yelled, feeling my orgasm burst through me. The sensation of Ted spilling in my mouth reminded me of more innocent times when I used to swirl a spoonful of Eat-iskies around in there. Oh, the early morning joy!

That all happened last October. These days I come to work happy and I leave happy, and I've more or less forgotten about my silly dreams of pounding the pavement in search of headlines. After my little erotic incident in Ted's office that day, I was able to comport myself much more calmly at Profit Pusher, but I swear, there are times when I get so excited by the important work I'm doing here that I just can't stop myself from occasionally grabbing someone in the hallways and spreading my legs for nutritious, delicious wangie (or, once in a while, the tongues of a couple of the gals down in Human Resources—hey, being inventive is part of my job!) In the meantime, I'm still in touch occasionally with my old friends at the Herald-Newsulationist, but I've been awfully busy this winter on the plans to launch Profit Pusher's newest cereal, a chex-style offering we call Oh God! Oh God! I'm Gonna Spritz All Over The Good China! You'd think the biggest headache would be fielding the thousands of phone calls from angry consumers about our product names, but really, it's just having to come up with a new game for the kids on the back on every box. Take a look at this seek-a-word for me.....too difficult, maybe?