Standing with a vitamin water in one hand, playing with her curly brown hair in the other, Cheryl leaned on the cubicle wall. Sitting in the chair that occupied the cubicle, Laurie sat with a magazine in her hands as the two chatted for a quick break.
“Can you believe this? The new guy is skipping the work fourth party to uphold a camping tradition? Who the hell goes camping on the fourth of July?!”
Cheryl opened the bottle in her hand and took a drink. Laurie looked up at her, her golden blonde hair straightened and in a ponytail. Resting the magazine on her leg, she looked up and gave a strange look.
“Right?! How did he even manage to get out of it? Isn't the company picnic kind of a mandatory thing?”
Pointing at her with the bottle of water, Cheryl's face distorted to a level of annoyance that Laurie had never seen.
“Seriously! I've got at least two other parties I could be going to, not even to mention how we have to plan our family get together around me having to work. Twenty other people all have it off and I'm stuck here because Tom thinks it's 'Good for work cohesion' or whatever.”
Laurie set the magazine down on the desk to pick up a nail file.
“Don't we normally make the newbies bring the potluck stuff? We're gonna be down a dish for all of us thanks to that. What an ass hole!”
As she filed her nail a door opened on the other side of the cubicle and a man poked his head out. With a grin on his face, he spoke in condescending tones.
“Well girls, he wrote on his resume this is something he does every year. And if you wonder why he gets it off and not you, is because he's far more qualified for his job and definitely delivers as such. What are you earning yourself by bitching about someone else's life?”
Both girls scowled at him. Cheryl rolled her eyes and walked away like she had better things to do. Laurie also rolled her eyes as she placed her nail file down and swiveled her chair back to her desktop computer.
“Yeah, that's what I thought. Oh, and Laurie, why don't you bring something for the potluck if you're so worried about us being short on food for everyone.”
Laurie cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Sir, I've been here so long I haven't brought anything for the potluck in three years.”
The man thought to himself a moment and gave another cocky smile.
“Well, then I suppose it's time you contributed more than whine.”
Giving an audible grunt in disgust, she scrunched her face in anger and began typing.
“And make sure it's home made. None of that store bought stuff. Everyone just brings store bought stuff nowadays. It's maddening!”
Laughing as he shut the door, Laurie scowled at him.
#####
Sitting on a camping chair, Marty ran his hands through his sun bleached short hair. Dirt smeared his light complexion and ran with sweat in the mid day sun. Laughing as he reached down for a cooler, he opened it up and popped open a cold beer. His campground was now set. Tent had been erected. Campfire pit was dug and a fire started. Food was hung from the tree. How much better could Independence Day get?
“Honey, do you remember where I put my book?”
A woman called from inside the two room tent. Fabric crinkled beneath her feet as she sifted through her bag. Marty took a sip of his beer and thought for a moment.
“It should be in your bag. Did you take it out for the road trip at all?”
A zipper whizzed open and a tall curvy blonde stepped out of the mesh. She gasped and crumpled her nose in annoyance.
“Damnit! I left it in the car didn't I? I really don't want to hike any more.”
Marty chuckled and placed his beer in the cup holder of his chair. Standing up, he approached her with a grin on his face.
“Oh come now dear. We can go get it later. Just be thankful you didn't leave your gunpowder there when you were preparing for an ambush on the red coats.”
Smiling lightly, she leaned in towards Marty.
“Yes, yes. I get it. Please spare me your patriotic rant. You already got me out here didn't you?”
Grabbing her in his arms, he looked up slyly at her. She was still a good two inches taller than him. It was strange when they started dating, but he had gotten used to it.
“Alright, I know you get the point. At least I'm not at that work picnic today. Every work picnic I've ever gone to is people half-assedly trying to get along with each other. Wasting a bunch of food and making far too much unnecessary noise. Trying far too hard to impress people who are only there to judge their every move.”
She rolled her eyes and squished him in her arms. He smiled as his face dove into her plentiful cleavage. She knew how to get him to shut up.
“I know I know, hon. We've been through this. Just because you don't celebrate it that way doesn't make them wrong for doing it that way.”
He tried to pull away to give a rebuttal. She didn't let him. Keeping his face dug into her chest, she grabbed the back of his head and pushed it in. Marty started laughing and grinning like a fool as he motor-boated her breasts.
“Just remember it's not about what they're doing. If you want to celebrate independence, then celebrate it by having your desires being independent of theirs. And there's one thing I know that even they would agree would be a good way to celebrate today.”
She let her hand off his head and held him lightly. His hair in the front was ruffled so bad it made him look like he'd just escaped the loony bin. Pulling his head up and laying it on the top of her chest, he smiled at her.
“What would that be?”
Giving him bedroom eyes, she looked slyly back at the tent.
“Getting super high and having hot tent sex with your girlfriend!”
His eyes grew wide and the smile on his face somehow grew even wider. She felt exactly what he thought of that idea the moment she said it. It was poking her in the thigh as it was. He stepped back and he bowed to her, waving her into the tent.
“Well I can't argue with that. After you m'lady!”
With a swing of her hips, she booped him on the nose with her finger and entered the tent. Taking a deep breath and admiring the trees around him, he smiled and nodded.
“God bless America.”
Taking his shirt off, he entered the tent and zipped it shut.
