Bill stood by the water cooler, gently sipping at a vodka-strudel martini.
"Bill?" said the water cooler.
"Stop it." Bill said defensively.
"Over here." it said again, and Bill directed his attention to where the voice indicated, which clearly was not the water cooler.
"Oh," Bill said, discovering that it was not the water cooler who was after his attention. This time.
"It's been a long time since you visited the 'Male' room, eh? 'Male'? Get it? 'Male'? Eh?"
"Stuff it, Ralph." Bill grunted.
"Eh??" Ralph goaded, nudging Bill in the ribs harshly.
"The mail's delivered to my office." Bill said finally.
"Oh ya, eh? Delivered? Got it delivered, eh? I bet, eh?" Ralph chided.
"I said piss off." Bill rallied, and the water cooler gurgled offensively.
"Great party we got going here, eh? Great party. Eh? Way up here on the 39th floor where you've got a great view, eh? A great 'view'? Eh? Oooooh."
Bill felt trapped, casting about for someone else to talk to, to get him away from Ralph. Anything but Ralph, God help him.
"Ralphie!" a mock voice called from the other side of the room, where another clearly marked, and much larger water cooler stood just slightly taller than the woman calling Ralph's name, waving her left hand in curt little flutters.
"Excuse me, won't you? Eh, exCUUUUUSE me? Eh?" Ralph said, then pranced daintily off towards the mysterious woman who actually wanted the company of this strange man. The water cooler made a strangled noise, then leaked solemnly on the stubble carpet. Bill had to agree. The man was a complete drip.
"Bill!" another, much warmer voice called. Bill looked behind him, just to make sure it wasn't the water cooler.
"No, over here."
"Ah." Bill said.
"You'd think." the man said.
"Really." Bill replied, clearly identifying the man as Crete Bonestructure.
"Is that..." Crete asked derisively, indicating Bill's vodka-strudel martini.
"Yes, get your own."
"Well," Crete offered. "I wouldn't even PRESUME to ..."
"No." Bill agreed reluctantly. "Not you."
"And Ralph?"
"Snippety." Bill said, peering over the rim of his conical glass and swilling the spotted contents around thoughtfully, allowing just a glimmer of the fourescent light to glint off the top.
"Shame. A guy like that, and Bosnia too."
"Bosnia." Bill agreed absently, paying more attention to trying to make a pattern out of the murky nodules floating in his drink.
"Could I...?"
"What?" Bill asked after a short pause, lowering his drink to chest height for effect.
"Y'know..." Crete said hesitantly, pointing uncertainly at the water cooler.
"Go ahead. It's not my belt."
Crete sauntered casually over to the circular obilesque and pulled out a cone-shaped cup from its dispenser, though not without some difficulty. He held the container under the small brown spigot, placed two fingers delicately behind its grips, and operated the small button-nozzle with his thumb, letting the clear, aqueous substance flow like water into his cup. The water cooler gurgled with exctasy and allowed a large, roughly circular bubble to emerge at the top and burst happily.
"Mmmm." Crete purred, releasing the spiggot and holding the cup to his mouth, letting its contents flow into his mouth. "Good." he said when he was finished, crushing the cup in his fist and throwing it in a nearby trash receptacle. The water cooler gurgled hopefully again, in case Crete was still thirsty, reminding him that it still had more to offer.
"So," Crete said. 'So' was Crete's favourite opening gambit to any conversation.
"Yeah..." Bill said, his eyes glazing over with nostalgia.
"Creosote hors d'oeuvre?" Crete said hopefully, displaying a silver platter of crackers topped with blackened matter which had popped conveniently into his hand.
"No." Bill replied flatly.
"Cod S'mores, then?" The platter abruptly shifted to become a plate adorned with graham crackers topped with chocolate, marshmallows and a vulgar fish.
"No."
"Yew tree, then. You must want a Yew tree." Crete insisted. The plate of cod s'mores remained. The water cooler kept suspiciously silent.
"No, no."
"No?"
"Yes."
"Maybe."
"Later."
"Okay."
"Bill?" Bill asked.
"I'm Crete. You're bill." Crete said.
"Right. Bill?" Bill repeated.
"Yes, Crete?" Crete replied.
"Have you ever...?"
"No, no, how could you even think such a thing?"
"Sorry, it's just ... womb."
"Oh. I understand."
"No, you couldn't possibly."
"Who are we?" Crete who was now Bill said.
"I'm not sure." said Bill who wasn't sure if he was Crete yet.
"I think I'm having a bowel movement." Crete who was now Bill who wasn't sure who he was yet said, thinking how he was just about to have a bowel movement.
"I'll get the spatula." Bill who wasn't sure who he was but had an idea that he might actually be Buzz Belmondo reincarnanted said contemptuously.
"I'll be waiting beside the water cooler, I said with hope in my voice as I sauntered casually over to the water cooler and leaned on it unsteadily."
"You're narrating."
"Oh, sorry."
"But what if...?"
"I'll take care of that. Who did we say we were again?"
"Never mind. I'll just be Bill and you can be Crete."
"Good, fine, excellent choice." Crete, relieved that he had something to call himself by, said. The water cooler leered at him.
"Glub." said the water cooler.
"Shh, not now, dammit." Crete said in a hushed tone, making rapid shooing motions with his left hand behind his back.
"Did you say something?" Bill queried.
"No, no, nothing, just muttering to myself." Crete lied.
"Glub." repeated the water cooler. Crete kicked its stand with his heel discretely, to which the water cooler had no end of replies.
"Glub!" it said angrily. "Glub!"
"Damnit, I said later!" Crete replied, though much louder, and a small handful of people stared at him warily. He closed his hand, crushing the people therein to death, and kicked the water cooler's stand solidly with the pointed toe of his penguin skin dress shoes.
"Ow." Crete complained, nursing his damaged toe while balancing on the other.
"Glub." the water cooler said smugly.
"You little..." Crete growled, and lunged at the water cooler, savagely ripping it from its bolted stand on the floor and wrestling with it as he staggered through the mulling crowd, shouting epithets and delivering solidly placed blows to what might appear to be its midsection. "I'll..." he managed to get out between blows, but he was weakening. His blows became less frequent and his knuckles looked bloodied -- his own blood, while not a scuff showed on the water cooler. Finally, Crete collapsed on the ground in a disheveled heap, panting rapidly and swinging at air. The water cooler rolled calmly off of his chest and came to rest at the foot of a small porcelain bidet that was the focal point of the room.
"Glub." the water cooler said triumphantly, drizzling a small amount of water by its side on to the stubble carpet where it lay.
Several attendants at the party picked Crete up and showed him out the door.
"Poor Crete." one of them said. "Struck down in his prime by a water cooler."
"I told him." another said. "I told him not to mess with them. He shoulda listned."
"Shame. Fucking moose." yet a third muttered between bites of his caviar egg rolls.
Bill went over to the water cooler and knelt by its side.
"Why? Why did you do it?"
The cooler just lay there on its side, quietly leaking. A previously unnoticed crack in its casing was clearly visible now.
"Gurgle." it said, and then expired.
Bill bowed his head for a moment and wept openly, his tears mingling with the growing wet patch from the water cooler on the stubble carpet. "I understand."