The Picnic

         The soft glow of the florescent ceiling lights felt like a putrid sickness raining down on Arthur Quimbley’s balding head. Standing amidst the sea of grey and pale blue cubicles his face grew increasingly devoid of emotion. The receptionist glared at him with her beady brown eyes, which sat several inches apart from each other on her plump face. With a soft thud the brown picnic basket that Author had been holding in his hands dropped to the commercial grade carpet of the office floor.
         “Samantha, what do you mean?” he asked searching for some hint of clarity in her uncaring eyes. She was looking him over now as if he were some sort of strange insect that had drifted into the office by mistake, and yet was worth further study.
         “I’ve already told you. Clarice was let go three weeks ago sir. What did you say your name was again?”
         Arthur’s face began to grow red as it often did when he grew angry, “my name is Arthur Quimbley. Quimbley! Just like my wife’s last name! You know that. Stop joking around I’m in a hurry today.”
         “Oh, and so it is,” she exclaimed with indifference. “Hold on one moment and I’ll get the office supervisor for you. Please have a seat over there if you don’t mind.”
         Arthur picked up the picnic basket from the floor and walked over to a couple of Blue upholstered lounge chairs sitting by the door. His heart pounding he did not sit, but chose instead to pace back and forth in front of the entrance. The large office was quite except for the consistent clacking of computer keyboards and the low hum of computer cooling fans. Trying to remember to keep his cool Arthur began to take deep slow breaths. Clarice was always reminding him not to loose his cool in situations like this. She was so worried about his high blood pressure, always referring to it as the silent killer. Arthur never ventured past the reception desk of Clarice’s office any more. Every since he had gotten out of the hospital Arthur could not bear to venture into any office environment.
         It was Friday afternoon and Arthur often liked to surprise his wife on Fridays by showing up to take her out to lunch. This particular Friday morning she had warned him that she would be busy working on the paperwork for the new account she had just landed, but Arthur had thought that she could use the break. She had been so distant lately, and he was worried that all of the extra hours she had been putting in were starting to get to her.
         “Can I help you sir,” said a tall slim man in a navy blue suit who was extending his hand in greeting. Arthur stopped pacing and turned to face him.
         The words almost exploded from his mouth, “I’m looking for my wife, Donald. I wanted to take her out for a picnic in the park across the street.”
         The man withdrew his hand running it through his closely cropped hair, “and what was your wife’s name?”
         Rage began to surge through Arthur’s body again and the wicker handle of the picnic basket creaked in protest as Arthur’s grip tightened around it, “I already told Samantha that I’m in a hurry and I don’t have time for jokes. Is this some kind of practical joke Donald?” Arthur glared up at the man from behind his wire rimed glasses.
         “I’m sorry sir, but have we met before,” asked the man.
         “Have you all gone mad? Don’t you know who I am? I’ve been here dozens of times to pick my wife up over the years!”
The man took several steps back towards the reception desk and reached for the phone. “I’m sorry sir, but if you don’t calm down I will have to call security.”
         Arthur stood motionless for several moments. Donald had never had much of a sense of humor, and Arthur could not understand who would have put him up to such an outrageous practical joke.
         “Listen Donald, this has been hilarious but I really don’t have time for jokes today,” said Arthur. With this he pushed past the tall man in the cheep suit and quickly navigated the maze of cubicle walls towards his wife’s desk.
         Arthur could hear the tall man’s voice calling behind him, “wait sir you can’t go back there.” Ignoring the warning Arthur continued past the water cooler and the cubicle of the guy that always smelled like peanut brittle. There was a dull pounding starting to radiate from behind his eyes and the florescent lighting was not helping the situation any. Rubbing his temple gently with his index finger, Arthur continued to hurry towards the back of the large open room to where his wife’s office was located.
         As Arthur continued to weed his way through the sea of shoulder high fabric covered walls, he noticed that the consistent clacking of keyboards had been replaced by a still silence. One by one, heads began to pop up over the partition walls, much like prairie dogs emerging from their holes. The room began to feel hot and sticky as Arthur realized that there were dozens of eyes now focused on him. Tugging at the collar of his gray polo shirt he suddenly found it difficult to breath. Up ahead he could see the glass wall that separated the roomy private offices from the cramped cubicles of the less fortunate employees. He was almost there now, only twenty more feet to go.
         Arthur’s legs began to feel as if his feet were incased in lead shoes. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the floor suddenly seemed as if he were standing on the deck of a ship that was being cast about at sea. Reaching out with his free hand he grabbed the top of one of the cubicle walls and pulled it to the ground with him as his legs gave way. Next to Arthur the picnic basket fell on is side and its contents were sent sprawling across the floor.
         Tearing off the page for March thirty first on her desk calendar, Clarice Quimbly crumpled it up and tossed it into the wire mesh trash can under her desk. Chuckling to her self she thought of the joke that Donald and Samantha had planned for Arthur. Clarice had specifically told him that she would be busy during lunch today, but she knew that he would show up anywise. Suddenly there was a loud crash followed by a commotion just outside her office. Looking up she just caught sight of a single red apple rolling through her office door.