The Christmas Party: How many special people change? How many lives are living strange? Where were you while we were writing blogs?

Still confused by his conversation with his new employer, Brick sleepwalked through the following days of work until it was 12/21/2012, the office Christmas party. Still uncertain about his role in this strange company that had hired him out of the blue a little while ago, Brick was still working hard on some never ending list of promos that were always due sooner than he would want them to be. After a particularly difficult attempt to blend two very different songs into a smooth transition, brick was startled by a friendly hand o his shoulder. It was the lovely young assistant producer, Amethyst.

Dressed within the parameters of her usual purple palette, Amy (as most people called her) was not gifted height wise, but what she lacked in altitude, she more than made up for with her buoyant spirit and rustic good looks.

"Brick?" she asked our weary protagonist.

"Yes, Amy?" he replied as if his lungs were just freed of lethal sea water.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Hmmm?"

"The Christmas party."

"Oh, right..."

"You forgot, didn't you?'

"Yeah, kinda."

"Well, you should come. Celebrate the end of the world that never came."

"I think I should just..."

With a look of determination Amy interrupted Brick: "There is no way I'm letting you work while everyone else goes down to the bar for the party. No more of this loner BS for you, Brick. You're part of this family now. C'mon."

Presented with an offer he couldn't refuse from a woman he couldn't say no to, Brick reluctantly tossed on his ancient winter coat and hopped on the tiny lift down to the main floor and passed through the glass doors towards the icy streets. His head grew light from the rush of cold vapors being blasted in his face as he struggled to get the hood of his coat to stay on top of his now scruffy hair.

The entrance to the bar was not going to win any awards for creativity or design, but it was a functional wood/glass hybrid and it would live out the rest of its inanimate door life as a sturdy, but boring entrance to a run of the mill sports bar. The company Brick worked for had rented the place out for a few hours to reward its loyal employees with free booze and grub. Having already eaten recently and not being a consumer of alcoholic beverages would come back to haunt our already stressed out hero.

Taking a seat at the closest available table, Brick rested his elbows against the thin tablecloth that resembled the paper in an old brown paper bag. In the distance he saw Slate, Tigre and Ombre squabble over what was the best drink/meal combo. One argued that wine goes with everything, another that Jack Daniels was like kissing god...or the other, cloven-hoofed fellow. Such debates held little interest for the eternally sober Brick. His solitude was his strategy for surviving the holiday party unscathed, but alas it was not meant to be. Soon a couple of his fellow editors sat down across from him. They were, of course, more interested in themselves to pay much notice to Brick, save to chastise him once in a while for not partaking in the art of boozery, at least, that's what Brick would have called it...

Mercifully, some women sat down at the table. A couple were in the I'm-old-enough-to-be-your-mom-but-I'll-treat-you-like-an-adult age range. There was also Amethyst, who sat down next to Brick, which made the table seem ten times more tolerable a place to wait out this end of the world Christmas crossover mash-up remix of a party. While the table continued to order a steady supply of food and refreshments of the 21 and older variety, Brick felt himself slip further away from the group. Far away, Slate was making the case for vodka being the ultimate in holiday-improving beverages. Ombre was not having any of this and was ready to argue for the merits of fruit flavored liqueurs.

"Not drinking?" Amy asked Brick as she took a sip of her beer.

"Nope."

"Why not?" asked a creepy former employee who had relocated to a different department of the same company.

"I just don't."

"But you're a creative person, you should drink."

"I just don't want to, okay?"

"Okay..."

"I'm sorry, I just, I don't have any interest in consuming something that's poisonous to my liver just because everyone else is, ok?

"Fine. Just wanted to help."

The evening continued in that awkward tone as Brick kept sneaking glances at Amethyst. This was, however a party, so of course the drunken broadcasters would get up to propose toasts filed with so many private jokes that it rendered the humor nigh-incomprehensible. The speeches got worse and more jumbled as the hours rolled by. When some of the women were getting ready to go back to the office, Brick saw his escape strategy, joined their extraction team and left the drunk to so be up on their own.

The walk back was brisk but invigorating. Brick was happy just to be near Amethyst, even though she was more preoccupied with her plans for the rest of the evening. Upon reaching the glass doors in front of the studio, Amethyst, noticing that Brick wasn't going back inside and reflecting on his general despair earlier that evening, told him that she would miss him during the holidays and reached out to hug him. He of course welcomed her warm embrace and knew that such a gift would not likely repeat in the foreseeable future. Amethyst went inside after saying a few more pleasantries and Brick was left alone to ponder his changing life as the afterglow of her touch eroded in the cold December night air.