The SPASMS Project » 2007

The little accountant looked up from his figures and consulted a small slip of paper. “Jim Prosky in sales. What about you, Gloria? Whose name did you draw?”

“Darlene.”

“Darlene?”

“Darlene. The receptionist? She’s been here for eight years, Mr. Nims. I can’t believe you still don’t remember her name.”

He shrugged. “Why waste the brain cells on her name? We never say anything but ‘Good morning. Nasty weather, isn’t it?’ Not very efficient.”

“Don’t be such a blockhead, Nims. Oh! And you’ll never guess who picked your name. Go on, guess.”

“Er… Arlene?”

Gloria made a face. “Who’s Arlene?”

“The receptionist?”

“Darlene. And no, try again.”

“Gloria, I’m not good at guessing games.”

“One more guess. Come on.”

“Oh, all right… Was it you?”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “No, I picked Darlene, remember? It was Miss Inez.”

“Miss Inez what?” Slowly, it dawned on the little accountant. “Oh, dear. She drew my name last year, too. Gave me a pair of sunglasses with feathers on them.”

“She’s still upset you never wore them.”

“I avoid wearing feathers on my person whenever possible.”

“Miss Inez thought they looked very striking, and she was quite hurt when you didn’t like them.”

“Pish-tosh! I never said I didn’t like the sunglasses,” Mr. Nims reasoned.

“Well, Miss Inez is a very nice lady, and we don’t want her upset again—”

“No, no, of course not.”

“And that’s why I’m here. Tell me what it is that you want as a gift, and I’ll tell Miss Inez, and she’ll wrap it up and give it to you, and you’ll unwrap it and look surprised. You’ll open the box, look up at Miss Inez with shining eyes, and say, ‘Why, Miss Inez! How did you know?’ right in front of everybody, so they all see how much you like the gift she gave you. And Miss Inez will feel wonderful about herself, even though she has gout and she’s never been married and has thirteen cats and thinks shaded spectacles with feathers glued to them are really sophisticated.”

“Thirteen cats? Hmm. That seems rather excessive. How many cats do you own, Gloria?”

“Shut up, Nims. Now, what is it that you want?”

“Well. Let us see. A new tape for my adding machine would be nice.”

“That’s office supplies, not personal.”

“For my adding machine at home,” Mr. Nims corrected.

“Boring. Next!”

“Well, one thing I’ve been meaning to try is this foot powder—”

“Too personal.”

“A gyroscope.”

“No.”

“A sling-shot?”

Gloria scowled.

The little accountant’s face brightened. “I know! Bullets!”

“What?”

“Well, not for me, actually, you see, my sister recently purchased a hunting rifle—”

“Oh, forget it.” Gloria pushed herself up from the chair. “You’re getting aftershave, and you’re going to like it.”

“But—” Mr. Nims stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right, Gloria. Aftershave it is.”

A week later, Mr. Nims unwrapped a bejeweled half-gallon bottle of Ali Baba’s Elk Musk… For Him and smiled up feebly at Miss Inez. “Why Miss Inez! How did you know?”

“I’m so glad you liked it!” Miss Inez leaned forward and kissed him, leaving a crimson smudge on his cheek.

Jim Prosky from sales unwrapped a can of foot powder and smiled feebly up at the little accountant. “Why, Mr. Nims! How did you know?”

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