Working at a Christmas Party

It never ceased to amaze at what people thought should go into a theme party. Steve Irwin, Gladiator, Jungle Pygmies and Cannibals, or in this case, the Wild West.

Well, the American Wild West as opposed to Perth, which was just feral.

It also never ceased to amaze him as to the lengths some companies went to for their Christmas bash. This firm had hired out the Ritz Carlton's ballroom, hired a bunch of actors and performers as living decorations, and put them around as 'ambiance'.

Jason smiled. He always liked to make up little stories to help himself get into character, and this one was no exception. The sun was nothing more than a host of lights glinting up in the ceiling as he whirled his lasso idly, giving it a flick with his wrist to send it neatly over the 'hitching post' which had been carefully crafted from the remains of an old bench that morning so the drunken accountants - or was it lawyers - could have their turn trying to mimic his actions.

It was a bit of a waste to be honest, given the lack of hand-eye co-ordination the partygoers had after their seventh or eighth drink. Still it was paying him sixteen dollars and hour and he was also meant to help with the square dancing later. He was just about to hang up his rope and head into the other room when a man barrelled into him, knocking both of them down.

"S-sorry," the man slurred, staggering to his feet. "I'm j-just a little..."

Jason carefully got to his feet. That had hurt! Annoyed, he opened his mouth to complete the man's sentence.