fresh buns or crusty baguette?

on the joy of workplace harassment

FRESH BUNS!

That’s what she called me.

This she?

Not my wife, but the 65 year old manager at work.

Was it a slip?

I’m not certain.

I came around the corner early for work and ready to go. Just as I rounded the corner, Vickie looked up and shouted FRESH BUNS!

I smiled and replied - I’m so glad you noticed. All of those efforts on my bike must be paying off.

She howled.

Then?

Then I turnt around and began to rumble my feet and shake my baconator.

As I did I began to sing FRESH BUNS JIMMY JIMMY FRESH BUNS BABY YEAH!

Vickie’s face turnt red.

My god, before you know it we’re going to have HR down here with some sort of harassment complaint.

I laughed. I’d complain if I wasn’t being harrassed.

Then?

I spun on my heel and began dancing merengue - just like one of my guest taught me - with one hand in front of me and the other waving in the air. The only parts of me moving move fluidly than my feet on the floor?

FRESH BUNS!

That’s right baby.

My lumpy rumpy is as exquisite as freshly baked bread.

As the ‘new …