"Donna," I call from my desk.
   
  She appears in my doorway and looks at me sternly.  This is the same look 
she's had since yesterday after the 'underwear incident'.

  I've decided to call it the 'underwear incident'.  

  Although this is the fifth incident with underwear that I've been 
involved in during my lifetime, so there may be times when I'll need to 
clarify.  
  
  Donna seems unhappy with me. 

   I wonder why?

  "What?" she asks sharply.

   I sit back in my chair and grin, "I was just thinking we could have a 
lengthy discussion right now about why you stitch your name into your 
underwear."

   She rolls her eyes and steps all the way into my office. "I don't think 
that's any of your business."

   I smile, "Actually, your underwear and I have established quite a 
rapport.  I think it would like me to know."

  "It's official.  I hate you," she declares.

   I speak as if I didn't hear her, "So, is it because you've lost your 
underwear before?  Is this a safeguard?"

  "I am not having this conversation with you."

   "Come on, Donna, inquiring minds want to know," I prod.

  She sighs, closes my door and then sits down in front of me.  I see a 
flash of embarrassment in her eyes before she begins to ramble.  "When I was 
in college, my apartment didn't have a laundry room.  I had to wash my 
clothes at a laundromat a few blocks away.   Well, one day, I washed my 
delicates and then put them in the drier.  I had another load to do and I 
realized that I didn't have any more change.  I also didn't have any bills 
small enough that the change machine would break, so I decided to run home 
quickly and get some more money.  Of course, I ended up getting sidetracked 
with my crazy old neighbor, Edna, and had to help her get her cat out of the 
toaster oven.  So, by the time I got back, my load was done, someone had 
removed all of my clothes from the drier and placed them in some random 
laundry basket...A laundry basket that had someone else's clothes in it.  I 
started to pick my clothes out, when this big ox of a woman started yelling 
at me for touching her belongings.  I tried to explain to her, but she 
wouldn't listen.  In frustration, I decided to leave with what I had already 
found, but, before I could, the woman snatched my favorite pair of panties 
right out of my hand.  She started screaming again, saying they were hers.  
But, trust me, she couldn't have even fit her big toe in the leg hole.  By 
now, I was getting really angry, so I started to tug on the panties.  We got 
into this underwear tug-of-war right there in the middle of the laundromat.  
A crowd actually gathered around us.  Finally, the woman put her weight 
behind her tugs and was able to wrestle the panties away from me.  Then she 
left and I never saw them again.  After that, I decided to always stitch my 
name in my underwear, so that I could prove that they are mine."

 During Donna's long-winded ramble, I had bent my head back to rest 
comfortably and it is quite possible that I slipped into unconsciousness.

  I mean, who wouldn't have?

   I did, however, manage to catch the majority of it and the most important 
part.  I smiled and said dryly, "Wow, I was expecting a much more interesting 
explanation."

   Donna's face twisted in confusion and her brow furrowed, "And just what 
exactly did you expect?"

  I shrug, "I don't know.  In a drunken stupor, you went to a seamstress 
and had all of your underwear embroidered.  You know, like a drunken sailor 
and his tattoos."

  "That would have been more interesting?"

   "Exceedingly."

  Donna shakes her head like I am a total idiot.  She moves to leave, but 
then turns back around and says with a fair amount of sharpness, "I cannot 
believe that you came out into the bullpen yesterday and humiliated me like 
that."

  Ah, so that's why she seems angry with me.  I'll admit it, I can be quite 
slow.

   "You mean during the 'underwear incident'?"

   "Stop calling it that!"

   "What would you have me call it?"

   "Don't call it anything!"

  I shake my head, "Sorry, but for convenience sake when I am recounting 
this to every male I know for the next twenty years, it must have a snazzy 
title.  I'm willing to compromise with the 'panty episode'."

  Donna groans and then wags her finger at me, "I am already very angry 
with the way you handled things yesterday, Joshua.  I wouldn't push it if I 
were you. By the way, are you acquainted with the word 'tact'?"

   "Can't say that I am."

   I notice her jaw clench, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

   I nod and smirk, "Immensely.  It's refreshing not to be the one doing 
stupid, humiliating things for once."

   Donna smiles slightly, "Must I remind you of your idiotic fire-making 
incident less than two days ago."

   "That's different.  I'm an outdoorsman.  Us outdoorsman have our share of 
mishaps."

   "You were inside, Josh."

   "I was practicing."

   Donna sighs, "Well, I expected better treatment considering how 
supportive I have been of you in the aftermath of your moronic escapades."

   I shrug, "If it makes you feel any better, I would have done the same 
thing to CJ."

   Donna shakes her head and then offers me what I term a devilish smile. 

   "What?" I ask, my voice low and tentative.

   "Revenge is sweet," she hisses.

   Okay, maybe hisses is a bit of an exaggeration.  But it was definitely 
said with a snakelike quality to it.

   "What are you talking about?"

   She smiles sweetly, "You humiliated me, now it's my turn."

   I swallow hard.  I humiliate myself enough without the aid of others.

    I am actually considerably frightened, but I want to seem brave and calm. 
 I say nonchalantly and with a weak smile, "Hit me with your best shot."

    Donna raises her eyebrows mischievously a few times, then spins around 
and leaves my office.
    
    I stare at the door for a few minutes, wondering when my assistant became 
the devil incarnate.

* * *

    Okay, Donna is seriously freaking me out.  She is definitely planning 
something.  It's only a matter of what it will be and when it will occur.

    She's been giving me sinister looks all day.  I swear I even heard her 
say something about a 'money and a trombone' today while on the phone.

    I have no idea what that means, but it can't be good.

    The suspense is killing me.  I am terrorizing myself with the thought 
that, at any moment, I will be hit with a trap set in order for me to 
humiliate myself. 

    Therefore, I have decided on a plan of my own.

    I am going to beg Donna for forgiveness and give her things.

    Or a thing.  One should suffice.

    I spin around my office, in search of something to give her.  Nothing 
impresses me, so I move to my desk.  I quickly search a few of the drawers to 
no avail.  I finally reach the last drawer and smile.  This drawer has a 
secret compartment.  The bottom slides out and you can hide things in it.

    I remember the first time I discovered it.  I  felt very special and 
imagined all of the things I could hide in it.

    I remove one item and roll it around my hands.

    My silly putty.  

    A gift any woman would love, but I can't bear to part with it...Too many 
memories.

    I place it back and pick up another.  My etch-a-sketch keychain.  

    I chuckle at the drawing I made on it last week.  I was very careful not 
to shake it and it has been well-preserved.  

    Nope, can't bear to give it up...Especially not with this highly 
creative, if a bit naughty, piece of artwork.

    I place that back and remove another item.

    Ah, my Rubix cube.

    I've spent many a frustrated hour with this thing.  I even hit my friend, 
Johnny, in the back of the head with it by accident when I threw it across 
the room in agitation.

    I'm a Fulbright Scholar, a graduate of both Harvard and Yale, I help run 
a country, but this damn multicolored cube baffles my mind.

    That's just plain wrong if you ask me.

    Ten years ago, I got three sides right.  It's stayed exactly that way for 
the past decade.

    I roll it around my hands and examine our long love-hate relationship.  
Yes, we've had our ups and downs, but there's a lot of memories in this baby.

    Maybe I should give it to Donna. God knows I'll never figure it out; let 
her get a few migraines from it.

    I grin, close my drawer, stand up and exit the room.  I walk to Donna's 
desk, her gift behind my back.

    I look down as I speak.  "Um, I just wanted to apologize for how I 
behaved yesterday."

    Donna looks up at me, "So do it."

    My brow furrows. "I just did."

    She smiles at me. "No, you said you wanted to.  You never actually did.  
Guys like you always take that easy way out with apologies."

    I swallow hard.  I hate it when she's right.

    "I apologize for the way I behaved yesterday."

    She smiles slightly.  I begin to feel better.  I think the Rubix cube 
will put me over the top. 

    I whip it from behind my back with a flourish and hold it out to her.  
"Here, this is just a small token representing how sorry I am."

    Her eyebrows raise and she takes the cube from me.

    "It's a Rubix cube," she says rather unenthusiastically.

    "Yes."

    "It's a half-done Rubix cube," she says with even less enthusiasm.

    I begin to sense that my gift has not been as well-received as I would 
have hoped.  

    I grasp at straws and say, "I did half and I was...uh...kind of thinking 
you could do the other half...so that we could complete it together."

    That was incredibly lame and Donna's snort/chuckle indicates that she 
agrees.

    I suddenly feel like Tom Cruise in that movie I hate and Donna loves.  
You know, where he says 'you complete me'.  

    I don't know...I feel like I just said that same thing only with a Rubix 
cube.

    I am such a loser.  Sometimes I hate being me.

    Donna manages a weak smile, "Thanks."

    I shrug, "No problem." I pause and then add, "So, are we okay?"

    I watch her closely.  Her eyes flash with an evil gleam, before she says 
sweetly, "Yeah, all is forgiven and forgotten."

    I nod a few times and swallow against the lump in my throat.  I give her 
a small smile, before disappearing into my office.

    I slam the door shut and lean up against it.  I begin to mutter myself, 
"Ah, so that's her game.  She wants me to think that she's given up her plan, 
so that I'll let my guard down...Well, the joke's on her!  I'm hip to her 
ways!"  

    I tap my temple a few times, as if to assure myself that I am indeed 
clever enough to outwit Donna.

    Suddenly, there's a loud knock on my door.  I jump and, I shamefully 
admit, let out a little yelp.

    I turn around and open the door.  I find Sam standing behind it, offering 
me a strange expression.  "Is everything okay in there?  I thought I heard a 
dying dog."

    I smile slightly and shrug, "Oh, that was just me...I was having some 
trouble breathing cause I just ran...like a mile.  That was wheezing you 
heard."

    Sam's brow furrows and he gestures to my clothes, "You went running in 
your suit at 11 o'clock in the morning?"

    I nod and respond quickly, "Yeah, well, I'm an exercise freak."

    "That's me, Josh.  I'm the exercise freak."

    I smile and place my arm around Sam's shoulder, as I guide him into my 
office.  "Well, buddy, I guess your good, healthy habits have rubbed off on 
me."

    Sam smiles at me with what I believe to be pride.  

    "So, what can I do for you?" I ask.
    
    Sam hesitates before speaking, "Okay, you have to do the press briefing 
this afternoon."

    My eyes widen.  

    "Did I somehow miss the herd of stampeding bison pass by my door, Sam?"

    "Josh-..."

    "Because unless CJ has an injury worse than a bleeding head wound-..."

    "Josh," Sam interrupts me with a hand held up. "CJ just broke her ankle 
and is at the emergency room.  Toby and I have a meeting on the hill.  Leo's 
got a meeting with Healy.  Carol accompanied CJ to the hospital, which wasn't 
exactly smart on her part, but I digress.  You're all we've got.  Trust me, 
the President had me check everyone's schedule down to all the janitors.  
Everyone's busy.  Plus, you know what has to be covered and don't need a long 
prep time like someone else would.  It's you."

    I take a deep breath and am just about to respond when *it* hits me.

    This is all Donna's doing!

    I point an accusing finger at Sam and say rather hysterically, "Donna, 
put you up to this, didn't she?!"

    Sam's face twists in confusion and he shakes his head, "No, the President 
put me up to this."

    I shake my head stubbornly, "No, this is Donna's plan.  This is her plan 
to humiliate me.  She knows how I embarrassed myself last time."

    Sam places a hand on my shoulder and looks at me sympathetically, "Look, 
I don't know what's going on with you and Donna, but this is real.  The 
President has asked that you do the briefing in an hour."

    I shrug Sam's hand off and chuckle, "She's good, I'll give her that.  She 
managed to get you to come in here and tell me this, as well as convince the 
President to let me do the briefing."

    Sam sighs, "Okay, Josh, if Donna is planning to get back at you for 
whatever you did this time, she's not doing it this way.  I mean, do you 
really think she would try to humiliate you in such an elaborate, not to 
mention, national way?"

    I nod in agreement.  Sam's right; it's far to complicated.

    He breathes a sigh of relief, "Good, I'm glad you've come to your senses."

    I shake my head and blurt out, "No, she just wanted me to *think* that I 
was doing the briefing.  So, I would go out there. but then CJ would come 
out.  And I would be humiliated in front of the press corps."

    I can tell by Sam's expression that he is losing his patience with me.  
He says through gritted teeth, "Donna has *nothing* to do with this.  You 
have to do the briefing because there is no one else."

    I nod and smile. "Okay, I get it.  I'm not supposed to do the briefing.  
I'm just supposed to freak out about having to do it.  That's Donna's plan of 
revenge.  Very clever.  I won't be humiliated, but I'll freak out over the 
prospect of humiliation."

    Sam closes his eyes and then slowly opens them again.  "Will you be ready 
for the briefing in an hour or not, Josh?"

    I shake my head sharply, "No, I will not."
    
    Sam shrugs his shoulders in defeat and leaves my office.

    I smile, realizing I have outwitted Donna.  I did not run around the 
bullpen freaking out about my impending humiliation, only to find out that I 
would not be doing the briefing.

    I freaked out in the privacy of my own office in front of my best friend.

    I am a genius.  

* * *

    "Have you lost your mind?!" Leo barks at me, as he enters my office and 
slams my door shut.

    I jump up from my seat and attempt a smile, "Yes, but not to worry, I've 
had its picture placed on the side of a milk carton."

    Leo makes no attempt at a smile.  He only scowls at me.  

    I begin to sweat profusely.

    "The President asked that you take CJ's place at the briefing and you 
refused to because of some cockamamie story about Donna trying to humiliate 
you?!"

    My brow furrows.

    Uh-oh.

    It was all true.  It had nothing to do with Donna.

    The fact that Leo seems to be planning my murder in his head at this 
moment confirms this fact.

    I swallow hard and then speak, "Um, I think Sam misunderstood my position 
on this matter."

    "Do you have any idea how hard it was for the President to request you 
considering your performance last time?  I don't have to tell you that the 
cafeteria guy who hands out the green jello would have been his choice had 
the briefing not been during lunch time!"

    I hold my hands up to Leo in an attempt to get him to stop yelling at me. 
 "Okay, I'm sorry.  Donna has just made me a little paranoid. She's hinted at 
revenge because I humiliated her yesterday with the 'underwear incident'."

    Leo's face suddenly softens and he laughs, "You displayed the woman's 
underwear in front of her coworkers in the most important building in the 
country, while helping her piece together the most embarrassing incident of 
her life.  Yeah, I could see where she might want to get back at you."

    I smile and chuckle nervously, "Ah, so you understand why I reacted that 
way."

    Leo's smile fades away and his face turns as hard as stone, "No, I do 
not.  When you are requested by the President to do something, you do it.  
You do not question it and you certainly do not refuse to do it.  If you 
could try acting like the White House Deputy Chief of Staff instead of a 
scared schoolboy next time it would be appreciated."

    I nod meekly.

    Leo is just about to speak again, when CJ opens my door and hobbles in.

    I sigh in relief.

    My sigh in relief is twofold.
    
    A) I am relieved that I have been interrupted from this uncomfortable 
conversation.

    and

    B) I am elated that I will not have to do the press briefing.

    CJ offers us a grimace, "Turns out it was just a bad sprain.  I made the 
schmucks in the ER hurry it up, so I could make it back here in time for the 
briefing. I don't mind admitting that I threw around my status as a way of 
doing that.  Plus, I knew this was a pressing matter, since Toby called and 
said that Josh would be doing the briefing."

    I offer CJ a grin, which she does not return.

    Instead, she points one of her crutches at me. "You think I would ever 
let you within twenty feet of my press room again?  I was cleaning up the 
damage you did last time for three days afterwards.  I have the Secret 
Service on orders to tackle you and shackle you to a desk if you ever so much 
as cross the threshold."
    
    I grin, "No need to worry, CJ.  Your wonderful, if lax, relationship with 
the press corps will remain untouched by me.  Just remember, I tried to 
impose a sense of order."

    CJ smiles and nods, "And you failed miserably."

    I shrug in concession.  CJ turns around to leave, but yells over her 
shoulder before she does, "Stay out of my press room!"

    Leo follows her with a little smile playing across his lips.

    I plop down into my chair and place my hands to my forehead.  

    My mind is once again plagued with fears of Donna's plot of revenge.

    It's happened.

    I have dissolved into a paranoid freak.

* * *

    A few hours later, Donna appears in my doorway wearing a smile that is 
far too wide.

    My newly honed suspicious skills immediately perk up.

    Something must be amiss.

    Donna walks into my office and, to my complete astonishment, places a mug 
of piping hot coffee on my desk.

    My eyes widen and my mouth drops open.

    I finally manage to look up at her and say with a smirk, "I guess I 
wasn't paying attention when hell froze over, angels danced on pinheads, pigs 
started flying and money began to grow on trees."

    Donna chuckles and shakes her head.  "It's just a nice gesture on my 
part, Josh.  The Rubix cube thing was pretty sweet, so I thought it would be 
nice to do this for you."

    Donna says this with a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face. 

    I am just about to accuse her of a diabolical plan, when I remind myself 
that jumping to conclusions has already gotten me into trouble today.

    I dismiss my suspicions and tentatively pick up the mug of coffee.  Donna 
simply stands there watching me.

    I am *this* close to taking a sip, when my paranoia kicks in and I 
immediately slam the mug of coffee down on my desk.

    Donna jumps back a little, startled by my sudden motions.

    I stand up and point a finger at her, "Nice try!   So, what is it?  Is 
this a trick mug, so that I'll spill coffee all down the front of my shirt?  
Or, better yet, is the coffee laced with some sort of hallucinatory drug?"

    Donna simply stares at me with eyebrows raised.  She finally says softly, 
"What is wrong with you?"

    I smile nervously, "Don't play Miss Innocent with me.  You said you're 
going to get back at me and this must be a part of your plan."

    Donna laughs, "Oh, yes, you're right.  My diabolical plan is to bring you 
coffee.  Wow, lock me up now."

    I chuckle insincerely, "Fine, don't admit it.  But I am not about to let 
my guard down.  So you can just take your coffee and go."

    Donna shrugs, picks up the coffee and leaves.

    I smile widely, as I recline in my chair.

    Nice try, but not good enough.

    She'll have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool the likes of me.

    Revenge...Ha!  I thumb my nose at her revenge!

* * *

    One hour later, I venture outside my office.
    
    I haven't left my office in hours because I feel that Donna has less of a 
chance of putting her plan in action if I stay in one place.

    Moving around means that at any moment I could step into a trap.

    Therefore, I move very carefully: Peering around every corner; my eyes 
constantly roaming, keenly aware of my surroundings.

    Nothing can get past me.

    "Hey, James Bond, what the hell are you doing?" I jump about three feet 
in the air at the sound of Toby's voice coming from behind me.  

    Okay, so nobody's perfect.

    Toby eyes me questioningly, noticing how my back is practically glued to 
the wall and that I was inching my way down the hall in this manner seconds 
ago.

    I manage a weak smile, "Oh nothing, just checking how sturdy these walls 
are."  I bang my head against the wall a couple of times to demonstrate this 
and then remove myself from contact with it.  I pat the wall gently, "Yup, 
just what I thought, good, sturdy walls."

    Toby's brow raises, "What's the matter with you?  You're acting nervous, 
strange and uncomfortable.  These are normally adjectives associated with 
Sam.  I've been hoping he wasn't contagious."

    I smile and chuckle at Toby. 

    Then he speaks again, "You busy?"

    I shake my head.  Toby nods. "Good, I need you to do me a favor."

    Suspicious alert.  Suspicious alert.

    Be calm, stay cool.

    "Oh yeah, what?"

    Toby smiles, "The President has decided that the First Family needs a 
pet.  Apparently, he feels that it will make the Animal Activist people happy 
and many of the nation's pet lovers will feel a special connection to him.  
But, in true Josiah Bartlet fashion, he wants an unconventional pet.  A 
parrot to be exact.  So, he has requested that two parrots be sent over from 
one of the local pet shops.  In addition, he has asked that I decide which 
one will be the First Family's pet and what its name will be.  I, however, am 
considerably busy writing a speech now, so I received permission to pass it 
off to you."

    My brow furrows, as I am not exactly sure what to make of this request.  
It doesn't really seem like something designed by Donna to humiliate me.  
However, it could be something subtle that I am just not seeing.

    I shake my head, "No way.  I did the stamp thing a few months back; I've 
already filled the 'waste time doing work that is grossly beneath your 
qualifications' requirement." 
    
    Toby shrugs, "Fine, you write the speech and I'll name the damn parrots."

    I groan and watch as a smiling Toby strolls away.

    He returns two minutes later carrying two cages containing brightly 
colored parrots that are nearly identical.

    I grin and point at the one on the left, "That one.  And his name is 
Ringo."

    Toby smiles and shakes his head, "Sorry, but the President would like you 
to get to know the bird first and then make your decision.  You know, like CJ 
and the turkeys."

    "Is it just me or has our administration had an inordinately large amount 
of birds in its West Wing?"

    Toby shrugs with a smile, before handing me the cages and walking away.

    I look at the birds, "Looks like it just you and me, kids."

    I begin my walk back to my office.  When I reach the bullpen I hear a 
high, squeaky voice.

    "Hey, baby, nice bazoombas."

    Ten women in the immediate area turn around and stare at me.  

    My face turns red and I gesture to the birds.  Then I turn to them both 
and whisper, "Look, I don't know which one of you said that, but it was not 
appropriate."

    This elicits more strange looks from the women in the surrounding area.

    "Nice legs, pumpkin."

    I groan and whisper at them harshly, "Shut up!  You're embarrassing me."

    And the light goes on.

    This *has* to be the work of Donna.  She may have invented the whole pet 
story or she may have just used it to her advantage and suggested that I do 
this.

    Either way, this reeks of Donna.

    Speak of the devil.  Here she comes.

    Donna enters the bullpen, smiling at me when she sees the parrots.

    "I see you've made some new friends."

    "Hey, cupcake, I've got a sweet tooth. Come a little closer."

    Donna raises her brow at me, as I once again wish for the power to make 
myself invisible.

    "Ah, I see you've already taught them how to charm a woman," Donna says 
with a grin.

    I smile and shrug, "They're quick studies."

    Before Donna can say another word, I quickly maneuver around her and head 
towards my office.  But just before I close my door, the word "bitch" rings 
out.

    I groan again, as I place the cages on my desk.  I point a finger at both 
of them. "You two have to shut up."

    "You shut up."

    "Don't talk back at me."

    "Don't talk back to me."

    "Stop it."

    "Stop it."

    I begin to lose my patience, as I realize that I am arguing with two 
birds.  Never let it be said that I don't put my debating skills to the best 
use possible.  

    "Look, either shut up or I'll make sure your new residence is a bucket of 
KFC.  They'll never know the difference."

    "Moron."

    I moan loudly and placed my head in my hands.

    I've got to hand it to Donna.  This is a good one.  The birds have 
already embarrassed me.

    But I will not let them humiliate me.

    I pick the birds up and place them in my closet.  I smile and say before 
I shut the door, "You think about what you've done and when you think you can 
behave, then I'll let you out."

    I shut the door.  I door has just clicked shut when I hear, "poopy head."

    "Oh, how mature!" I yell back.

    "Scumbag."

    I finally lose it and scream in response, "Sticks and stones may break my 
bones, but words will never hurt me!"

    I know, that was childish.  I just couldn't help it.

    As I sit down in my chair I hear, "Wuss."

    I groan for the thousandth time in the last twenty minutes and place my 
head down on my desk.

    A few minutes later, my head shoots up when CJ hobbles into my office.  
She walks to my desk and plops a file down on it.

    "That's information on the education funding bill.  Make some notes on it 
and get it back to me as soon as you can."

    With that, CJ turns around and begin to leave.

    She is inches away from the threshold, when a voice says, "Do it 
yourself, slut."

    CJ stops abruptly and slowly turns around to face me.

    By now, the color has completely drained from my face. 

    The voice even sounded vaguely like mine because the door had blocked 
much of its high pitched tone.

    "What did you call me?"  CJ asks, her words clipped.

    I stutter, "I...I-..."

    "Did you just call me a slut?"

    "You got that right, sweetcheeks."

    God help me.  

    I mean, seriously, if ever there was a time for divine intervention, now 
would be it.  

    Don't give me any of that 'you could need saving from a bus or you might 
drown in a lake sometime'.  

    I'm willing to risk it.  

    Help me now and I'll take my chances later.

    For some reason, I can't bring myself to simply tell CJ that there are 
parrots in my closet who are speaking to her.

    CJ cocks her head, "Okay, how did you do that?  Your lips didn't even 
move."

    "I'm a ventriloquist."

    "Since when?"

    "Since today.  New hobby."

    CJ raises her eyebrows, "Uh-huh.  And what is it you were doing right 
now?  A male chauvinist pig routine."

    I grin, "That's right."

    She smiles, "Well, I would imagine you could draw on some firsthand 
experience for that one, now couldn't you?"

    It isn't until CJ has left the room that I realize that she just insulted 
me.  

    I shout at the parrots, "Go crazy, boys.  Say whatever you want about 
her."

* * *
    
    An hour later, I remove the birds from the closet.  It's time for them to 
be fed.  I slowly open one of the cages.   

    I no sooner open the door, when the parrot rushes out of the cage and 
lands on my head.

    Panic overcomes me.

    I begin to dance around my office like I have to urinate.

    In my hysterics, I manage to wander out into the bullpen.  

    Of course, I don't realize this until I hear snickers and a few 'oh nos" 
coming from behind me.

    "Get off me!" I yell and swat at the bird with flailing arms.  "Get off 
me, Butthead!"

    I named the birds Beavis and Butthead.  I now regret this choice.

    "Butthead! Butthead!" responds the bird loudly.

    The bullpen has now completely dissolved into laughter.  I can't exactly 
blame them.  I am fighting with a parrot and it is calling me names I haven't 
heard since fifth grade.

    I continue to hop around until this action is halted by my body slamming 
into a wall. 

    I fall to the ground and stay there, with the bird perched atop my head.    
    
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Donna rushing down the hall towards me.

    She comes to my aid immediately, quickly removes the parrot and helps me 
up.

    I take a deep breath, "Thank you."

    Then I turn to my audience, "And thank you all for doing absolutely 
nothing.  It's nice to know we have employees who are moved to action in a 
crisis."

    Then I turn back to Donna and say in defeat, "Well, I guess you won.  I 
am utterly humiliated."

    Donna's eyes widen in surprise, "What are you talking about?"

    "This.  You had something to do with this, right?  It's a part of your 
plan to get back at me for yesterday."

    Donna smiles and shakes her head, "No, it wasn't."

    "Yeah, right."  I say with a shake of my head.  "I have been driving 
myself crazy all day thinking that you were out to get me.  I've become a 
paranoid freak worrying about you trying to humiliate me. Well, it finally 
happened. You won. "

    With that, Donna's face lights up.  Then she says triumphantly,  "Yes, I 
just did."

    My brow furrows.  What is she talking about?

    "What are you talking about?"

    Donna smiles at me, "I never had a plan to humiliate you, Josh.  I simply 
made you *think* I had one.  It was a mind game.  You drove yourself crazy 
and into a paranoid frenzy worrying about when I would get back at you.  
That's exactly what I wanted to happen.  I planted the seed and then watched 
as it grew.  And, in true Josh fashion, you even managed to humiliate 
yourself with your antics."  She pauses and says, "That was my revenge, 
Joshua.  And it was the sweetest and simplest revenge possible."

    My mouth drops open.

    Donna is a genius.

    Donna is an evil genius.

    Damn, that's sexy.

    I know, I know.  I should be feeling like a complete fool.  

    But, instead, I am simply marveling at the genius of it all.  Donna used 
*me* to get back at *me*.  She used my mind to play mind games.

    We could definitely use her on Senior Staff.  
    
    I grin at her. "You are a much more frightening woman now then you were 
yesterday, Donna.  I'm very proud of you."

    She smiles, "You think I could hang around you for so long and not learn 
a little something about being clever?"

    I smirk, "You think I'm clever."

    "I didn't say that.  From you, I learned that a seemingly clever man can 
be extremely stupid and easy to fool.  This is invaluable information and 
will undoubtedly come in handy in the future."

    I smile, "Well, then I'm your man for all future information.  I also 
specialize in making normal situations into humiliating ones."

    Donna smiles and nods.  I start to walk away, when Donna calls back to me.

    I turn around and she tosses me an object.  I look down and realize it's 
my etch-a-sketch keychain. 

    I look back to her and she says with a grin, "Toby and Sam enjoyed your 
artwork."  My face floods with red as I remember the sketch.  I look at her, 
puzzled that she could have known about my secret compartment.

    She concludes with a wicked grin, "Just remember one thing, Joshua:  You 
don't have any secrets from me."

    I shiver at that thought, but marvel at the fact that my assistant is an 
evil genius.  

    Although the fact that I find this new quality of hers to be extremely 
sexy would certainly come as a surprise to her; it sure as hell did to me.



THE END

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