A Snackland Press Holiday Incident Report

Obesseus had never trusted anything labeled “Corporate Christmas Party.”

Too many rules.

Too many napkins.

Not enough gravy.

Still, the invitation said FREE FOOD, and Obesseus respected tradition.

The moment he entered the banquet hall, the problems began.

There was music—soft, polite, suspiciously festive. There were balloons shaped like snowflakes. There was a banner that read:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS – PLEASE EAT RESPONSIBLY

Obesseus stopped walking.

“…No.”

Professor Math stood near the punch bowl, wearing a sweater covered in fractions. “Ah, Obesseus. You’re late.”

Obesseus squinted. “Obesseus was early. Time was wrong.”

Jeff Jelly appeared with a clipboard. “Before you hit the buffet, we just need you to sign this acknowledgment saying you understand portion guidance.”

Allen Apple nodded enthusiastically. “It’s for morale!”

Obesseus stared at the clipboard.

Then he ate it.

Paper. Pen. Signature line. Crunch.

“Morale better,” Obesseus said.

The buffet line was next.

Tiny plates.

Tiny spoons.

Labels like ‘Mindful Serving Station’ and ‘Taste, Don’t Feast.’

Obesseus lifted the lid of the chafing dish.

Inside sat a single meatball.

One.

Obesseus inhaled sharply. “WHO HAS DONE THIS CRIME?”

Professor Math cleared his throat. “It’s an efficiency model. Everyone gets equal portions.”

Obesseus slammed the lid down, rattling the table. “Equality is when everyone gets FULL.”

That’s when the DJ announced, “Alright everyone! Let’s play a fun team-building game—White Elephant Gift Exchange!”

Obesseus received a gift bag.

Inside was a salad kit.

He gasped like he’d been betrayed by the universe itself.

“This gift… has leaves,” Obesseus whispered.

Grant the Grapefruit slid in ten minutes late, wearing sunglasses indoors. “Sorry, guys. Traffic. Also I drank the eggnog.”

Obesseus opened the salad kit again, just to be sure it was still offensive.

Then the meltdown began.

Obesseus leapt onto the buffet table, grabbed the gravy boat like a sacred relic, and roared:

“CORPORATE PARTY IS OVER. FEAST MODE IS ACTIVATED.”

He flipped the switch labeled “Warming Trays – Low.”

The switch broke.

Every tray surged to MAXIMUM HEAT.

Mashed potatoes bubbled like volcanoes.

Mac and cheese flowed freely.

The dessert table collapsed under its own joy.

Jeff Jelly screamed, “THIS IS A LIABILITY!”

Allen Apple fainted into a pile of dinner rolls.

Professor Math tried to regain control. “OBESSEUS! You’re violating at least seven policies!”

Obesseus scooped an entire tray onto his plate. “Policies taste bad.”

By the time security arrived, Obesseus was asleep under the Christmas tree, surrounded by empty pans, wearing a tinsel crown and humming happily.

The banner now read:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS – NEXT YEAR: CATER OFF-SITE

Professor Math sighed, writing overtime assignments with a trembling hand.

Grant the Grapefruit raised a glass. “Best party ever.”

Obesseus snored.

Corporate never recovered.