Hark! Hark! Tis now struck six; get thee away from thy wheeled thrones and screens aglow. Let us lessen the fluorescent glare and heighten the festive glow of fir and candelabra. The outlet, Carol, thou canst find behind the coffee machine. Come now, let us unfold ourselves and make haste to conference room B. ‘Ere we enter, a chalice of holiday nog for each, I say! Thou must also flip the switch, Carol.
Let us, too, spread fully among conference room C and Janet’s office, but stay thee out of conference room A, ye who art careless in thy nogging, lest another sofa reupholstering be funded by thy bonus. My gaze finds thee, Frank.
Come, come! Into the conference room! Ho—cast your gaze upon yon victual spread; surely no office before hath seen the like. Use not thy fingers, Alan, yea though the bacon wrapp’d figs do indeed justify such gestures of yearning. Instead, thither art paper dishes and utensils of plastic, Alan. My lady Rebecca of Accounting, good thou, save me a piece of gingerbread cake, I pray you. Just there, at thy front, in the green tupperware which bestows upon the pastry the pretense of having been made at home, though ‘twas clearly purchased at market. Greg? Wherefore art thou Greg and not yet Saint Nick? What, know you not, having agreed verbally and by email to play Santa this year? Flee mine sight until thou hast donned thy red suit!
Let us go then, and create heavenly music to attending ears, by way of yonder karaoke machine. Stephen, dally not; shirk not your duty as karaoke host. See, your fellow choristers approach. Address yourself to entertain them with zeal, and with seasonally appropriate song choices. For God’s sake, let us not spoil our celebration with fucking Journey.
Nay! Prithee, send not thy lips against mine, Jacqueline! ‘Tis true, I admit, the holly leaves hang near, but since my desires run not before mine managerial responsibility, thou wilt run instead into hot water with human resources. I kid not, Jacqueline; stay thee back.
Carol? I see the tree lights are on, but also we must illuminate the Menorah. Yes, because of The Merchant of Venice. No need to be smug, Carol.