Ms Work Christmas Party


In an act of ill-advised booze-haggery, Jodee necks two bottles of Yellowglen Pink while getting ready for her work Christmas party. She squeezes into a tight dress and combined with her high heels she pulls off the unique look of a half fed Python crossed with a cheap escort you would only consider bringing to a soft opening of a new Sizzlers restaurant.

Within minutes of entering the function room, Jodee has a glass of bubbly in her hand and is making flirtatious chit chat with a couple of managers. The pot bellied leer-lords take a big bite out of the cleavage buffet on offer and whisper inappropriate nothings to her. Each greased up comment sets her off like a Hyena on a helium bender. The sound of her cackling is suddenly silenced by the ominous shattering of her dropped grass. It has begun.

A shitcunt yells “taxi” while a flurry of designated drivers and office matriarchs swarm upon the glassy hazard. Jodee is too drunk to feel shame and decides to make her move on the top-knotted fuck-dick who cycles to work and talks about his abs in public. He is unimpressed with Jodee’s ungracious slurrying and snidely encourages her to “take it easy ay”.

She drowns her sorrows and in a rapid landslide of emotion, her face begins resembling the Joker after a particularly voluminous bukake session. Her work friends console the blubbering mess while she serenades them with a sonnet of self pity. The girls try to feed her coon & cabana to sober her up but Jodee has a better ideas. She t-rex stumbles into the toilet and feasts upon a nice fat line of powdery dexampheta-yum.

Jodee emerges from her toilety shame cocoon as a turbo charged cougar. She hits the d-floor and showcases dance moves that she pioneered while being grinded on at 3am at The Clink. Luckily for all, the music cuts out for the speeches. Red faced directors slur out a few insincere pleasantries and then the bubbly office manager grabs the mic to make an announcement, “congratulations to Kim and Mike on their engagement!”

Jodee feels the jealous clock on her biological time bomb explode, “HA! I Sucked his dick at the End of Financial Year do! HA”. Sweet Jesus of fuck. The room is tenser than the bicep in a gym selfie. Jodee’s entire cohort is staring at her while she puts the final touch on her disasterpiece: a power-yak all over the pin-striped bum-groper standing uncomfortably close to her.

The next day, Jodee experiences the holy trinity of the loser: hungover, jobless and shamed. Looks like it’ll have to be another Chrisco Christmas hamper this year ay Jodee?

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