The Blue File

A co-worker came into our office just now. There are three of us in here: T-J, Clueless and me. Usually when our manager comes in to ask us questions we sit in our chairs looking blankly back at her slack-jawed, hoping someone else knows the answer, any answer. However, our manager's questions usually make sense as they are logical and specially designed to make us squirm in our seats. This question, well..... I've changed a few details to keep things ambiguous but yah...

Co-worker: Excuse me, have you seen the blue file?

Magnificent 3: .....................?

The Shuster a frequent visitor sits and observes.

Co-W: It's a blue file.

M3: .........................?

Co-W: I'm looking for the blue file.

M3: .......................?
T-J: Like a blue file folder? Yes we use those here....

Co-W: No no, it's an existing blue file.

T-J: Is it empty?

Co-W: No, it's got stuff in it. It's a blue file.

Clueless: It. would. help. if you had an address…
Stinky T: Do you have any other information about the file?

I should tell you that Co-W is notoriously secretive, nobody knows why. If you locked her up in solitary, tortured her within an inch of her life and threatened any and all kin she's got she still probably wouldn't tell you what colour the sky is if she didn't feel like it, so divulging this bit of information surely must've torn pieces out of her heart and soul.

Co-W: ..........Uh...It says..... "6 Pink Elephants and 20 Toes".

M3: OHH! OK, that file! Yah, we don't have it.

Co-W: No? Are you sure you don't have that file? (Wanders around, poking her little nose everywhere) It's a blue file.

M3: Nope.

Co-W leaves. I look over at Nancy T-J and the Shuster and they're both sitting v-e-r-y still, trying to hold something in. I decided to find out what that something could be.

Stinky T: So.. I'm looking for a woman... She's a woman. An existing woman. Have you seen the woman?

The office erupts into peals of laughter and tears of hilarity. We can't get over what just happened. Like complete idiots we put the incident on repeat and keep on asking each other where the blue file is. T-J is yanking out sheaths of kleenex by the handfuls in an effort to dam up the flow of streaming tears, while snorting and snuffling, trying to catch her breath through her laughter in what I can only think of as some sort of hysterical epileptic seizure. The Shuster is shaking tremulously in his chair so much that I didn't know if he'd ever be able to stop and wiping his eyes in futile. All the while I'm trying to keep a straight face. The rest of the day is a wash because about the only thing we can talk about is the blue file.

As of the time of publishing we still don't know where that darn blue file is.