Disclaimer--all of the characters in this story are over 18.

The Pie Fight

My wife and I were attending an annual party at my Boss' home. It was a formal affair. The men wore tuxedos. The women wore evening gowns. Most of the employees and their spouses had come to the party in previous years; however, there were a few employees who were attending for the first time, and there were a few employees not in attendance.
I was reaching for my diet Cuba Libre when the company VP looked at me and yelled, "How dare you criticize my report." Of course, I had done no such thing. He picked up a pie and threw it at me. I ducked, and the pie struck my wife squarely in the face. My wife, acting indignant, picked up a pie and charged over to the VP, who was backing away with his hands up. I knew my wife was acting because she really loves a good pie fight. Besides, I knew all of this was being staged to flabbergast the new employees. My wife started to smoosh the pie into the VP's face. He squatted. She squatted. He went off-script and stood back up! She stood back up. He squatted again. She squatted again. He stood up again. She loudly said, "To heck with this," and pied him in the groin.
As my wife stood up, the boss' wife came over and bellowed, "How can you pie my guests?". Upon hearing this, my wife picked up pie and bellowed in return, "Like this" as she smooshed the pie into the Boss' wife face, completely obscuring her face and causing chocolate pie filling to go down her cleavage. The boss' wife picked up a pie and retorted (pun intended), "Don't you mean like this" as she smooshed a pie into my wife's face and added a twist. This resulted in my wife having coconut pie filling in her cleavage. My wife paused for a second and then said, "You're right--That is better." The two women stared at each other for a second, and then they lost it. They leaned back and laughed as hard as I've ever seen anyone laugh.
That was the signal to the rest of the party. All of the guests who had previously attended started to reach for pies, myself included. Well, all except for this one gentleman in a white tuxedo. He simply went around the room and said, "Oh, Miss DuBois". Amazingly, this actually worked! He wasn't hit with a pie until the very end of the pie fight.
As I was reaching for a pie, I saw the ballroom door partially open, and I overheard an older maid say, "Rita, you can't go in there." Rita, 26, replied, "The heck I can't. If I have to help clean up this mess tomorrow, I going to enjoy it tonight!" Rita threw open the door, marched up to the Boss' wife, picked up a pie, smushed it into the boss' wife face, and said with a mock snarl, "I've wanted to that for 7 years." In response, the boss' wife picked up a pie and smooshed it into Rita's face, saying, "Well, I've wanted to do that for 7 years." Then the boss picked up a pie, smooshed it over Rita's head, and said, "Me, too." Then the three of them had a big belly laugh.
While all of the previous guests except the man in white were getting absolutely covered in pie, the new employees were standing on the side, still clean and uncertain as to what to do. Then one of the new female decided to pick up a pie and throw it, hitting her supervisor squarely in her face. This met with a retaliatory strike of 10 pies from the nearby guests, followed by one of the older female guests taking her by the hand, leading her into the middle of the room, and saying, "Welcome to the pie fight." Soon all of the other new employees except Sandra joined in. Sandra, 25, was the boss' new secretary. As she slowly backed out of the ballroom, she was met by the butler, who said, "Ma'am, please sit here. The boss will wish to speak with you in a few minutes. Don't worry. You are not in any trouble, and your job is safe. May I get you some water?"
The guests were throwing pies as fast as the waiters could bring them in. After 20 minutes, the pie fight wound down. There was no more ammo except for 12 pies that the waiters held in reserve. The butler came over to Sandra and said, "Please follow me, ma'am." As the butler lead Sandra back into the ballroom, she saw all of the guests, including 11 holding pies. "Sandra, don't worry, I simply wish to talk with you. If, after I am finished, you wish to remain clean, you simply need to walk out of the ballroom and enjoy the rest of the party with us. I promise that we won't hold your being clean against you. I also promise that we won't hold you against us." The guests chuckled at the boss' little joke. Even Sandra smiled a little bit.
"Sandra, people, especially adults, live their lives far seriously. They worry about paying the bills. They worry whether the person they just met likes them. They worry about being on time for work. They worry about this. They worry about that. They worry about the other thing. Mankind isn't supposed to live this way. Therefore, I host this pie fight every year so that, for one night, my employees can forget about their worries and just be kids, free from being responsible, free from keeping their good clothes clean." The boss tugged at the lapels of his tuxedo when mentioned good clothes. "I wish to offer you a choice. As I said, if you wish to remain clean, you need only leave the ballroom. If, on the other hand, you wish to belatedly join the pie fight, you need only pick up the pie in front of you and pie me in the face. Be advised that the 11 guests holding pies will pie you in return, and you will become quite messy. We do want you to join, so I will cover the cost of replacing your evening gown."
Sandra just sat there. She simply couldn't make up her mind. After a couple of minutes, the butler came over to the boss and said in his best imitation of Stephen Fry, "Perhaps I could offer a solution, sir. Perhaps the young lady doesn't see the equity of receiving 11 pies when she would only get to throw one into the face of someone already covered in pie. Perhaps if she were allowed to throw a pie into the face of someone clean before she had to make a decision, she'd be more inclined to get messy. Ma'am, would you allow me the honor of taking a pie from you."
My wife went over and put her pie next to the other one and said, "You might as well. It's the only freebie you're going to get from this crowd." Sandra very timidly picked up the pie my wife had brought over and stood next to the butler. She took a deep breath, and rather gently smooshed the pie into the butler's face, with much of the chocolate filling dropping onto his shirt. As the pie dripped from the butler's face, she started to giggle. She looked at the guests and said, "Can I receive the pies one at a time instead of all at once?"
"Certainly," said the boss. The guests holding the pies then organized themselves into a single-file line. I was at the back of this line. Sandra picked up the other pie, took a deep breath, and pied her boss. She then stepped back, threw her arms open wide and closed her eyes. We moved forward and pied her--in the face, on her head, wherever we could to make her as messy as possible. When it came my turn to pie her, she opened her eyes, put her arms forward, and said, "Wait." She then took the pie out of my hands and pied herself in the face. The guests all cheered and said, "Welcome to the pie fight." Sandra then hugged her boss, hugged the butler, hugged me, hugged my wife, and hugged all of the people who pied her, getting that much messier by doing so.
The following year, Sandra was absolutely ecstatic to receive her invitation to the boss' party.