Full of It

Chapter OneI HAVE A big mouth.This doesn't mean that my face should grace the pages of Guinness, eyes bulging wildly as I strain to stretch my lips around thirty-one asparagus spears or the splintered end of a two-by-four.It doesn't mean I have thick, juicy lips, or a wide grin, packed with an enamel army of pristine white teeth.My big mouth isn't a physical characteristic, it's a character flaw.It's my very own San Andreas fault, geographically positioned an equal distance from both my pointy chin and pointier nose. It may not tremble, and it may not crack, but it isalwayson the brink of doing major damage to myself and the people around me.I've cursed it and been cursedforit since day one, but that's never stopped me from saying things without thinking, and throughout my twenty-six years, my tendency to blurt has continually landed me on the wrong side of a spanking, a cold shoulder, and everything in between."You forgot," Rachel groaned.I'd just returned to our shared desk after running a lunch hour gauntlet that included U.S. Bank, Walgreens, Hollywood Video, and a high-speed pursuit of sustenance at a McDonald's drive-through."I can'tbelieveyou forgot," she said, then flipped her thick blonde braid over her shoulder, trained her striking blue eyes on me, and begged, "Pleasetell me you didn't forget.""The coffee?" I asked, dropping my knapsack beneath the desk and slipping out of my navy peacoat. "No," I assured her, "I didn't forget.""Thankgod," she grinned, exposing the slightly overlapping tooth most men in the office found strangely intoxicating. This I knew because a traitor to their teama surly claims adjuster called Keithhad told me about "the list." My best friend, Rachel (and her snaggletooth), had ranked number one until Sue Parsons in Accounting got a boob job and suddenly shot from seventeen to the top spot.And me? I didn't know if I was evenonthe list and, to be honest, I wasn't sure whether it would be more humiliating to be a hit or a miss.What if Randy Johnson, the creepy little troll in Claims, wanted to have sex with me?Even worse: what if he didn't?"So, where is it?" Rachel asked, peering over my shoulder at the swirling mass of paperwork covering my desk. I needed a proper filing system, though a shredder sounded much more appetizing."I didn't get any," I told her, shuddering at the sight of the Johnson file. That one could wait.Indefinitely."What?" Rachel asked, and I looked up to see thecrease of a worry line marring her otherwise flawless forehead. "But you just said""That I didn'tforget, Rach. The fact is, I didn't have time.""No time, huh?" She leaned toward me and sniffed."Is that a chickenesque McScent you're wearing?"I averted my gaze and murmured, "McPossibly.""Lauren." Her tone was as stern as my ninth grade P.E. teacher's, and I half expected her to demand I do laps of the building."Okay," I said, raising my hands in surrender. "Yes, I grabbed lunch.""That's not lunch, it's toxic waste," she said, making no effort to hide her disdain."Yup, with a side of fries."She grumbled about caffeine deprivation and I waited for the high-speed technology of my PC to join me in the present moment. I absently stared at the handleless ceramic mug I'd cleverly converted into a desktop pen corral, jam-packed with ballpoints, pencils, and even a pair of scissors. While my computer grunted and beeped its way back to life, I daydreamed about storming the office supply market with aFrench, Wendy is the author of 'Full of It' with ISBN 9780765352514 and ISBN 0765352516.