Near Death
“Two female factory workers at the Homestead Lamp and Shade Company were on lunch break at a picnic table behind the factory. It was a sunny day, the temperatures hovering around 80. Phyllis Stevenson smoothed suntan lotion on her neck and shoulders while her friend, Meg Street, sat across from her and opened a Tupperware box.
Meg pointed over Phyllis’s shoulder and grunted. “The Fred man is coming.”
Phyllis rolled her eyes.
Their foreman, Fred Farquar, waddled toward them, his fleshy pink arms ...poking out of a short-sleeved shirt.
“This ain’t the beach, girls,” he called out. He drew up behind Phyllis, stood over her and stared down her cleavage. “You missed a bit. Want me to help?”
“Get lost, Fred,” Meg said.
“I could get lost in between those,” he replied with a leer.
Phyllis stood up and almost hit him on the chin with her head. “Leave me alone! For once and for all, just leave me alone!”
“I’ll leave you alone for twenty minutes, honey,” he shot back, startled by her vehemence.MoreLess
Meg pointed over Phyllis’s shoulder and grunted. “The Fred man is coming.”
Phyllis rolled her eyes.
Their foreman, Fred Farquar, waddled toward them, his fleshy pink arms ...poking out of a short-sleeved shirt.
“This ain’t the beach, girls,” he called out. He drew up behind Phyllis, stood over her and stared down her cleavage. “You missed a bit. Want me to help?”
“Get lost, Fred,” Meg said.
“I could get lost in between those,” he replied with a leer.
Phyllis stood up and almost hit him on the chin with her head. “Leave me alone! For once and for all, just leave me alone!”
“I’ll leave you alone for twenty minutes, honey,” he shot back, startled by her vehemence.MoreLess
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