A Special Occasion

      Squealing feedback resounded throughout the opulent ballroom of the Four Seasons hotel as tight-lipped waiters poured champagne and served their guests. The feedback ended with a loud tap that echoed through the speakers hung by the plush red curtains on the walls.
      “Ladies and gentlemen,” Greg Jordan began, holding the microphone at arm’s length, “colleagues and esteemed guests, good evening; thank you for joining us here at the Hoboken Holiday Inn.”
      The audience—wealthy, to a person—chuckled dutifully at the new boss’s lame joke. Greg went on.
      “All kidding aside, we are all here tonight to honor our CEO, our leader and our friend, Arthur Milton Freedman the Third.  Arthur has been at the head of Chambers and Whitaker for over thirty years. Under his guiding hand, our firm has grown and prospered at an exponential rate. He has fostered the talents of hundreds of junior account executives—including, at one time, myself—and he has given us a lasting ideal to which we can only aspire to reach. After three decades of outstanding and meritorious service, Arthur’s journey with Chambers and Whitaker has come to an end. He is eager, I know, to engage in new and challenging pursuits, and we applaud him as he moves on to this next phase of his career. But I’ve said enough; let me leave a few words for the man himself. So without further ado, the guest of honor: Arthur Freedman.” Greg led the crowd in a quick round of applause, which died nearly as quickly as it had begun when Arthur Freedman walked in through the main entrance. 
      The throng of attendees in the Four Seasons ballroom began to murmur as the guest of honor strode down the center aisle. Beneath the horn-rimmed glasses which he had required to see ever since he was a teenager, Arthur Freedman wore a beatific smile on his face—and nothing else. His hair was, as ever, combed neatly; his pearly dentures perfectly matched the color of his flaccid penis, which hung defiantly to the right. One female onlooker took a look at Arthur’s nether regions and fainted dead away. He chose to take this as a compliment.
      With no one moving to stop him or even touch him, Arthur walked up the steps to the podium where Greg still stood, gape-mouthed and choking for words like a fish in the open air. Still smiling, Arthur plucked the microphone from Greg’s loose grip.
      “Done with that, Greg? Thanks very much,” said Arthur. “Thanks very much, my friends, for that warm welcome. I’ve never been much of a public speaker. Fortunately for all of you, I’m going to keep my remarks brief.
      “First, to my longtime secretary Jean—where are you? Oh, there you go—I would like to thank you for all the years of your support, even the last few years when you were secretly accepting bribes from young Gregory here to supply him with information on me so he could steal my job. I can’t say I blame you; I wasn’t always the best boss I could’ve been—oh, stop looking so shocked, Jean, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before!
      “Secondly, to my wife, I would like to apologize for all the long nights, the missed vacations, the broken promises; also, a special thank-you to our gardener, with whom she’s currently having an affair. Her attitude has, of late, improved immensely.
      “And finally, to young Greg here: thank you, Greg, for forcing me out of a job I thought I loved but really hated. Thank you, Greg, for helping me to find out what’s really important to me in life. No, sincerely, thank you. And thank you, Greg, for screwing your secretary in my office in front of the hidden cameras I had installed six months ago. The look on your wife’s face when I showed her the footage was the greatest gift of all.
      “I appreciate you all coming out,” said Arthur. “Enjoy the champagne.”