Slack Slacker Meets the Invisible Man
After last week’s surprise audit of employee absenteeism rates revealed, I, Slack Slacker, may have unknowingly exceeded the limits of our company’s generous and liberal time off policies, I wanted to make every effort to put to rest any trust issues management may be harboring about me. However, due to an incredibly unforeseen circumstance, I will be out of the office again this Friday. I can only hope the following explanation will be sufficient to dispel growing doubts concerning my dedication and commitment to maintaining a performance standard any employee would be proud of.
It all started yesterday afternoon with a call from my best bud Slick. He didn’t sound like himself. Right away he’s telling me, he’d been reviewing his life and came to the conclusion that he might have a drinking problem. He said lately he’s been hearing voices and seeing things and needed a friend to talk to. Being my best bud, I wanted to be there for him, so I told him we could meet for cocktails at our favorite spot on the upper West Side of Manhattan in an hour. After grabbing my cell phone and some bum bucks for the beggars on the way, I was in the fastest cab I could hail and was headed uptown in a flash. 
Upon arrival, I noticed Slick was sitting at the bar staring into a cup of black coffee. Okay, I’m thinking, this is all wrong. I tell Lumpy Louie the bartender to set up a few shots, turned my cell phone off so we wouldn’t be interrupted and attempted to sit on the barstool next to him. “No” he whispers. “You can’t sit there”. “I know you can’t see him, but that seat is taken.” Yeah, you read my mind, because the only thing on it was, WTF? Slick looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t look steady and his eyes were bloodshot. In a word, Slick looked crazy. I’d never seen him like this before.
“Whatever you do, don’t bother this guy, he’s dangerous”, Slick says. “He’s been following me around everywhere I go and I can’t seem to lose him.” Thinking this is all a joke, I offered to buy the invisible man a drink. And that’s when I was convinced I was crazy too because I heard somebody say, “I’ll take three fingers of whisky and none of that cheap shit.” I squeezed my eyes tightly and opened them with the expectation of a logical explanation being in front of me but no such luck. Lumpy Louie busily filled the request without paying too much attention and doing so, failed to notice the glass rise up from the bar and empty itself into thin air. I was paying close attention and I did notice. This was no joke.
The invisible man told me to sit down and STFU. So I did. He told me to order another three fingers of whiskey. So I did. He said if I didn’t keep buying him free drinks, he’d make my life a living hell. I stupidly asked, how so? This was a most unfortunate question because at that very moment Floozy Suzy sauntered by. The invisible man grabbed her ass, whispered some lewd and lascivious Trump-like remarks to her and before I could duck, Floozy had slapped the shit outta me. I told Lumpy Louie to start a tab. Like it or not, this evening was on me. 
It was then I heard him say, “I think we’re gonna be pals for awhile.” And BTW, it was also then, I noticed Slick had slipped out of the bar. As the invisible man kept tossing back glass after glass of straight whisky, I realized he was developing a bit of a slur. And although I’d had a few too, I wasn’t nearly as wasted as he’d apparently gotten himself. I saw my opportunity. I told the invisible man as politely as I could manage, that I’d be calling it an evening because I had to be at work early in the morning. 
Surprisingly, the invisible man seemed cool with this reasonable excuse until he insisted on sharing a cab with me. I knew I was in trouble because the last thing I needed was the invisible man knowing where I lived. But even that trouble was nothing compared to how he’d planned to top off the night. The invisible man decided to car jack a cab for laughs. As soon as we left the bar, the invisible man spotted a lone car for hire parked across the street with its out of service light lit.
The driver at the cab stand was stunned when his car door flew open and he was flung through a plate glass window of a deli like a rag doll by something he couldn’t see. The invisible man demanded I get in. So I did. Slick was right this guy was dangerous. When the invisible man hit the accelerator he never let up. Reaching speeds of 100 mph or more, he must’ve ran every red light, drove on every sidewalk and hit countless innocent pedestrians all over Manhattan before the police took notice and gave chase. Yes, I was in a cab being driven madly by an intoxicated invisible man, with the cops in hot pursuit. 
Unfortunately, just as I was beginning to think things couldn’t possibly get any worse, the invisible man slammed on the breaks, causing a six cop car pileup on Riverside Drive. With two tires blown, rear bumper rammed into the back seat, engine overheating and billowing smoke filling the cab, I could see the faint silhouette of a huge powerful figure at the  wheel of the vehicle after it rolled to a slow stop. He quickly wrapped some rags around his face he’d found on the floor of the cab, put some weird goggle type specks on and really did look like the character in the movies.
The invisible man then kicked the door open, said “C-YA sucker”, and ran off into the night. It was only seconds after he disappeared into the shadows of Riverside Park, that the cops surrounded the heap of wreckage with guns drawn and really pissed-off looks on their faces. I tried calling Slick, but he wasn’t answering.
Since I’m certain a story like this will require a witness for verification, I assure you my lawyer is doing everything possible to locate the stunned cabby at the cab stand. With any luck at all, I should return to work Monday morning.
Until then, I can only thank you for your continued trust and unwavering confidence.
Sincerely, Slack Slacker