I wandered back downstairs to Mr. Silverman's office. On the way downstairs, I spied the cubes from the stairwell. Jackpot! There were fresh flowers on Mindy Klein's desk.

Mindy Klein had the largest collection of teddy bears on and above her desk with still enough space to significantly use the desk. Somehow, her massive teddy bear collection took up less space than the three computers on my desk. Bears of all colors and sizes lined the cube. There were oversized, carnival-won bears. Bears with bowties. Bears in all types of costumes and hats. And, at the edge of the desk sat a vase of freshly delivered daisies. The only one not in attendance of the teddy bear company picnic was Mindy Klein.

Nobody was watching, so I plucked the petals from the daisies. Hundreds of little plastic eyes watched me pluck petals from the flowers. One of the closer teddy bears nudged its friend and pointed to me. It nodded and shook its neighbor. Soon, the bears were pointing at me and mumbling amongst themselves.

I plucked the twelfth petal I needed and looked up to see the bears stand up on their stubby legs.

"He takes the petals," said one of the bears in a cute, but gruff little voice.

"Yes, from the flowers for the bees," said another teddy bear.

"The bees which bring us honey," said a third.

"Get him!" another growled.

The teddy bears leapt from Mindy's desk and stumbled after me. It would have been comical if it weren't for their snarls and bared grizzly teeth.

I shoved the stolen petals into my pocket and looked for something to protect myself from the mob of angry teddy bears. A golf club leaned against another desk near a mock putting green. With the putter in one hand and my notebook as a shield in the other hand, I established my defense.

A woosh and a muted thump sent a tan, fleecy bear flying over the cubes. The teddy bears' anger grew, and my defense grew sloppy. I knocked one bear into a recycling bin and another two onto a vacant desk. Still, they crawled after me. Even the ones I hit were not phased by the mad swing of the golf club. I knocked one teddy bear's head across the floor. The body searched for me blindly while the head cursed me from underneath a chair.

One bear clung to my ankle and bit at me through my jeans. I stepped on its head and forced it off with my free foot. It's voice growled from underneath my foot. With the other foot free, I punted it across the herd of bears, knocking a few down.

The other employees in the department continued their work as if the teddy bear battle was business as usual. One employee smiled and nodded at me, then continued his work.

The bears waddled and galloped after me. They growled about honey and flowers. Some tripped and tumbled over one another, then scrambled to their feet and continued the chase.

I rolled chairs and tossed recycling bins in front of their progress. The teddy bears just scampered around or leapt over them. There was no stop to the stuffed animal stampede.

There was only one thing to do. Flee. As I ran away, I remembered the last item on my list: the cup of water from the women's restroom. No time to ask someone to fill up the cup for me, I ran down the hall and entered the woman's restroom myself.

The door shut behind me. Furry thuds pounded on the door and toy voices demanded the stolen petals.

Voices of two women came from around the corner of the bathroom's foyer. Two fears crossed my mind. One, the teddy bears would eat me alive. It sounds ridiculous, but you weren't there. And two, I would be fired for hiding inside the women's restroom when the men's room is across the hall. The choice was simple. I'd face the women instead of the teddy bears. What? I tell you they were vicious.

I peeked around the corner into the bathroom. I don't recall ever being in the women's restroom. Not once did a school bully push me into one. Maybe my mom brought me into one when I was a toddler. The only ones I know I've seen were ones in movies or TV shows. This restroom was nothing like them.

It wasn't so much of a restroom with stalls and sinks. It was more of an oasis with stalls and sinks. To the left of the entrance were two sinks and a row of four stalls. The other portion of the restroom consisted of jungle and a lagoon. Large, tropical flowers bloomed from vines winding up coconut palms. Wide leaf plants outlined the perimeter of the lagoon, which was a blue so dark it was off-black. It looked and smelled like an imported island resort.

The women washed their hands at the sinks and complained about the meetings they were stuck in all morning. They failed to notice me sneak in and hide behind one of the elephant ear plants. Crouched behind the large, rounded leaves, I waited patiently for them to finish and leave.

The women opened the door to leave. The oasis made me momentarily forget the teddy bears. When they opened the door, I flinched to think they would get mauled by the fuzzy beasts. The door shut behind them without a sound.

There were no wild teddy bears at the entrance. No feet from under the stall doors. It was safe to come out.

The list never said which water to take from the restroom: the sink or the lagoon. I assumed the sink. The faucets from the sink worked for the two women. They no longer worked for me. The knobs turned, but no water flowed from the faucets.

I heard the door open again and hid inside the first stall. I prayed no one would notice my size 10 sneakers.

Rummaging and splashing noises arose from the lagoon. Through the crack around the stall door, I could pick out dark shapes moving around the oasis. I opened the door a little bit to get a better look.