‘Happy Corporate Halloween’

You readers are simply frightening.

It’s spooky how many of you--5,626 to be exact--have bizarre enough imaginations to submit entries to our fifth annual Halloween scary story contest. And, yes, blood-draining as it was, we closely eyeballed each and every one.

Oh, the gore, the guts, the annoying sisters who meet deservedly bitter ends, the green zombies who masquerade as elementary schoolteachers, the outer space guys who turn little boys into ground meat (yes, bones and all).

Martha Stewart moves to our house!

Christmas season presents Tickle Me Donny Osmond dolls!

Marv Albert asks, “Do you have that in a 40 short?”

Stop, stop, stop. Life in Southern California is scary enough.

Well, here are the winners--four adults and four children in the writing category, and an adult and a child in the drawing category. These lucky 10 each win four tickets to Disneyland.

Here are a few samples from those who didn’t make it:

Understatement of the Pile: “Two years ago there was a boy named Max. He was not very nice. He robbed an old lady. He felt bad. So did the old lady.”

Best Last Line: “It’s been a year since Scott’s death. I’m sad about this tragedy, but at least I’m popular.”

Call David Letterman: “It would be a scary Halloween this year when . . . your mother generously volunteered to provide entertainment (defined as singing and doing the polka) at the annual school dance.”

Take me to Funkytown: “The Boogie Man wore a white polyester suit and a gold chain around his neck. . . . Gerald could feel the life drain out of him as he was compelled to do the Disco Duck and then the Hustle.”

And now the winners:

I learned about it as soon as I entered my cubicle. It was in the interoffice mail, on my voicemail and in my e-mail. It was the Annual Corporate Halloween Party, the announcements touted, “raises, promotions, cash and surprises, Trick or Treat!” Halloween fell on a Friday that year so costumes would replace khakis. “Halloween regalia” was required to attend the party in the cafeteria at noon Halloween.

Of course, we would all attend. Costumes would range from a full-blown Glinda the Good Witch to the guys who take off their ties, jackets and belts then declare themselves “bums.” My costume was a collection of the rounded “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” symbols enlarged and reduced courtesy of the fleet of corporate copiers. Helmet made from a plastic gallon jug, tunic fashioned from a dry-cleaning bag, turtleneck, leggings and boots all made from--you guessed it--recycled materials. Recycled from year to year at that.

As the 31st approached, the anticipation built. Here and there little plastic spiders, bats, tombstones and cobwebs appeared. Ghostly screams and cackles could be heard. The lobby of the building, usually a showcase of artwork and “employees of the month and year,” became a haunted forest. Who would wear what? What about those “raises, promotions, cash and surprises?” Plans were made, the money was spent and “congrats” went around before they were even won. The corporation was dizzy with excitement.

At last, Halloween! We sped to work, arriving early for the fun. My recycle get-up earned the requisite nods and wan smiles. There were firemen, ghosts, vampires, Glindas, Darth Vaders, devils, monsters, a Christmas tree, a coven of witches and lots of bums. Upper management dressed like they always do, no costumes needed there. Not much work was done that day.

At noon via corporate PA we were informed that, “The little party is just beginning, ah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah!” So to the cafeteria we went. There was music and food and soft drinks. But no “raises, promotions, cash and surprises.” After the awards were bestowed for best, scariest, prettiest, most original (none of which were won by me!) we were told to go back to our work areas to find our “trick or treat.” The stampede of the costumed nearly cost us our lives, but back to our cubies we dashed.

On each and every desk was an envelope. Some were orange, some were black. Each envelope bore the employee’s name. The sound of tearing paper was deafening, the silence afterward even more so. For inside each envelope was the following rhyme:

Trick or Treat

you’re out on the street

What a surprise,

this is a major downsize.

Now empty your desk and head for the door

you don’t work here anymore!

Thank you for --- years of dedication.

Exit interviews will be conducted via telephone.

Happy Corporate Halloween.

*

* Peck, 41, is a computer graphic designer. She lives in Redondo Beach.