Tomorrow, as you probably know, is Friday the Thirteenth. It is a day steeped in meaning and feared by many. To some, it is a day of ill-fortune. To some, it's a day of evil spirits. To my fellow cubicle dwellers, Friday the Thirteenth marks the Day of Sacrifice.
Of all the rituals, the Sacrifice is the most feared, for if the correct preparations are not made, the consequences can be dire.
This morning, with the appearance of the Sign, it began. A cold shiver ran up my spine when I saw it. So I closed the refrigerator door.
The Sign read, in large block letters, "Any unlabelled items will be thrown out on Friday the 13th."
I must begin preparations immediately, lest my precious food items be included in the Sacrifice. They are truly ruthless when it comes to carrying out the Sacrifice. I once heard of a junior sales rep who forgot to put his name on his bagged lunch. The lunch vanished on that Friday, and he went hungry. He went hungry.
Entire catered lunches have gone to the Sacrifice. And in one instance, ten bottles of lager (although I suspect it was closer four or five... you know how these stories can become exaggerated).
On Monday the Sixteenth, the refrigerator will be clean and pure. A mixed blessing is the Sacrifice.
Cubey Terra