It seemed innocent enough, just type a few

It seemed innocent enough, just type a few words on the fly. A random thought about the day. But who is monitoring these thoughts? Who keeps a file in Washington?

I pushed that notion aside and tried not to think about the big juicy caramel cinnamon roll sitting there in the break room. Whose was it? I went back to my cubicle, obsessed with

whorls of butter and burnt sugary cocooned in a doughy blanket. I suspected it was Big Bob's lunch but struck out the idea. He'd never risk leaving it unattended. Was it poisoned?

There was only one way to find out. I dropped a chicken nugget into the food. It grew wings and squawked off the table. There was no doubt about it: Big Bob's lunch had been poison

-ed with angel wings. I fingered through my file folders. "'Panga,' 'Pengo,' ah, 'Penguin Jerky.'" I dropped a strip on Bob's lunch and it too flew. A skein of flightful bird meat

The answer was of course "No". My father was never the most understanding person when it came to my devious schemes to illegally obtain penguin meat for my insurance seminars.

This was the Fourth meeting of the Federation and I wanted my seminars to stand out from the other agents. They always served a foot long sub sandwich and I thought

instead of subs, why not dubs - I meant, brownies! I took to the kitchen and prepared with the most delicious recipe I could Google, and handed them out to the agents the next day.

These were chocolate banana babies, which I spotted at whole foods long ago. They were dairy and gluten free, so everyone would polish them off before the food police arrived!