Fictionlet
Brigid slammed open the door. “Greg! Greg, you miserable little popinjay, don’t just sit there staring at me with your mouth hanging open, get up! Come on! We’re celebrating!”
Greg blinked at his obviously-already-sloshed roommate, as outside one of Brigid’s co-workers honked the horn of his car several times to hurry along proceedings. “Hello? What brings on all this indecent merriment?” said Greg.
“The entire office is having a party,” Brigid said, “and we’re all supposed to bring guests. Since I don’t have a date, I’m taking you. Now come on!”
“Yes, yes,” said Greg, standing. “I get that part. What I want to know is why?”
“It’s huge!” said Brigid. “It’s colossal. It’s a first in the entire history of the company and quite possibly in the history of American business!”
“What is?” demanded Greg.
“You won’t believe it,” said Brigid. “I e-mailed a client about a work order they sent over…”
“Yes…?”
“And they sent me a reasonable response!”
Greg sank back into his chair. “…for real? You wouldn’t lie to me about something like this?”
“You should have seen my boss!” Brigid said. “She wept openly.”
“I don’t blame her,” said Greg.
-The Gneech