The Grasshopper, Take Two
I share glass partitions and the late afternoon sun with coworkers. They are good people.
Doreen stopped to discuss some paperwork and he picked up his refillable water bottle. She had his undivided attention while he took a healthy swig.
Immediately his eyes grew wide in horror, his cheeks inflated, and his body jerked right then left.
Doreen let out a muffled cry of alarm, dropped her books and bag on his desk, and moved towards him in confusion.
Doreen began to fear the worst.
“For the life of me,” she said later, “I was so confused. My mind started racing through the possibilities. Heart attack? Seizure? Choking?”
Fortunately Dan quickly regained mental control. Still making gurgling sounds, he jerked the garbage receptacle from beneath his desk and dispatched the contents of his mouth in revulsion.
“Uh! A grasshopper!” cried Doreen, her eyes bugged in astonishment as it emerged from Dan’s spittle before it even reached its destination.
When the drama ended, I laughed so hard I was afraid I might damage my post surgery sinuses.
Dan made some cryptic remark towards me again about “your little friend,”
“My friend?” I retorted, “You’ve had a much more intimate relationship with that bug than me!”
Then, as a sort of afterthought he replied, “If that’s its modus operandi, I’m surprised it’s not missing more legs.”
That kept me giggling out the door and most of the way home.
Today he admitted that once I departed the premises he made sure that it would never happen again.
(I’ve noticed that Dan now secures the cap on his water bottle after each use.)
**He called it 3 legged because it was missing one leg. In actuality, it was 5-legged, as it was missing one of it's 6 legs.