THE LAST LAUGH

I could write a book on the practical jokes done where I work. A big book.

Katie is one of the dozen or so people in the department where I work. Yesterday was Katie's last day. She quit. First she got pregnant and then nearly nine months later she quit.

We gathered together for a going-away lunch in the conference room where we ate pizza, shared stories and laughed. Also, I was asked to bring my guitar and sing a farewell song for Katie. I agreed. But I had trouble finding a song written about girls named Katie. The only one I could find was written in 1918 and was one of the most popular songs of the World War I era. It was called "K-K-K-Katie" and it goes like this:

K-K-K-Katie

Beautiful Katie

You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore

When the m-moon shines over the cow shed

I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door

The lyrics didn't quite fit our particular situation, so I changed them and added about six extra verses. One of those verses went like this:

K-K-K-Katie

I've been worried lately

That s-something might happen while you and I did patient care

It would have been fateful

But to you now I'm grateful

For n-not letting your water break while you sat on my chair

The whole staff laughed as I took this final opportunity to poke a little fun at my partner for the past five years. Lunch ended, we returned to work, Katie and I spent most of the afternoon doing patient care together, then she left early and said "Goodbye" to the staff as she made her final departure through the doors of the clinic.

As Cindy and I finished treating patients through the remainder of the afternoon, three other female co-workers converged around Cindy and me and began talking. Kim asked Cindy, " I wonder how well Depends work for men?"

I thought that was an unusual question.

Olivia replied, "Let's ask Bruce?"

I knew the grinning faces of these four suspicious females were heading in some specific direction.

.

But where?

Then I began to feel moisture gradually engulfing the posterior portion of my pants--the part of my pants that cover the buns of steel. I sat up and looked at my chair. It was soaked. My pants were soaked. Katie had sabotaged my chair as her final act of love toward me before leaving. The whole department ,except me, knew of her intentions and sat around like vultures waiting to witness the event.

Katie did, indeed, get the last laugh.

Singing a farewell "K-K-K-Katie".

A goodbye side-hug to a nearly-nine-month-pregnant now-former co-worker.

.

.

Katie gets the last laugh.