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09-09-01, for Conjugate
Yet another round of wishes...
Not quite so calm and collected now, she flitters into the room, wings disheveled, gossamer gown slipping off her right shoulder. If one listens closely enough, one might hear her mutter something about pocket watch chains and the relative lack of couth amongst the more rowdy members in this little playgroup.
“Never again will I make a comment about chains dangling from unnamed body parts. People, that was NOT an invitation for you to go searching for their originating point. You just KNOW that's going to leave a mark.
“Now, I hear that there is yet another birthday celebration to be had in these parts. Let's see.”
She rummages through her pockets, looking for a lost Palm Pilot. “Okay, jokers. Whichever of you animals stole my notes, please give 'em back. Really.
“Give back my Pilot and I'll let you see what's in the other pocket. Anyway, word is that Conjugate has a birthday today. Here's a birthday joke just for him.
“What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?
Pumpkin pi.
“Okay, I'll admit, it's more of a Halloween joke than a birthday joke, but I was distracted this week, and it's the only math reference I could come up with on short notice. And birthday cake doesn't really fit into the ”pi“ joke scheme. I'm being cutting-edge and non-traditional in my dessert choices.
“Nevermind. Blame the animals in the back room. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. Us mythological, mysterious beings don't get nearly as much action as you might think.
Anyway, this isn't supposed to be about me. “Happy Birthday Conjugate!”
And she moves a bit more slowly out of the room, in search of some tylenol and an ice pack. With a wink, “Anyone care to join me?” <exit stage left, wings fluttering delicately behind her>
