Chimpanzees with pocket protectors and enormous beach pails were scooping water out of the lagoon. With the faucets refusing to pour, the lagoon was my only source for water.

The chimps threw open the door to the stall and screamed at a man hiding in the women's restroom. A couple of chimps swung their arms and screeched at me, while the rest drained the lagoon at a faster pace with the large beach pails.

One chimp swiped the coffee mug out of my hand and began to play keep away with his friends. They climbed the trees and threw it over my head. Careful not to slip on the tiled, jungle floor, I jumped to try to catch the flying mug.

The chimps had nearly drained the lagoon and carried the filled pails out of the restroom. For what seemed like an enormous weight, they carried them around as if it were a Styrofoam cup full of marshmallows.

The lagoon was emptied and the chimps threw the coffee mug back to me.

As I looked at the chimp who returned the mug, I sighed and said, "All I need was water to halfway fill this mug."

The chimp looked at me and shrugged his hands and shoulders as if to say, "Why?"

As ridiculous as I felt talking to a monkey, but not any more ridiculous as anything else that day, I flipped to the page in the notebook with the list and briefly explained my story. The chimp pulled a pair of reading glasses from its pocket protector and read the list. He studied the list like an archeologist translating a historic text. When he was done, he folded his reading glasses, returned them to his pocket protector, and nodded at me. With a single gesture, he signaled one of the other chimps to give some water. And give it to me they did.

My tennis shoes squished all the way back to Mr. Silverman's office.

"Stupid monkeys," I grumbled quietly to myself.

At least I had all the items on the list. The donut, petals and pens were mostly dry in my pocket. The license agreement was safely tucked deep inside my notebook. The coffee mug had plenty of water in it. Unfortunately, I had enough water dripping from me to refill the mug a dozen times over. Fortunately, the items in my pockets and the EULA were not too water damaged.

I returned to Mr. Silverman's office. Along the way, Alice, and several other employees, asked me how I happened to get so wet on such a sunny day.

I muttered, "Don't ask."

Alice said, "Mr. Silverman is in his office now. He's been waiting for you. You can go right in."

I thanked Alice and squished into his office.

Mr. Silverman's steaming cup of tea paused halfway up to his lips.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"I had a little trouble with one of the items," I said.

"The tech monkeys?"

I nodded a soggy "Yes."

"Hold on," he said.

He rummaged through one of his desk drawers and pulled out a short-sleeve, collared shirt. It was tie-dyed with bright colors.

"Here," he said and tossed the shirt to me. "Change into this. It's a prototype of one of our older, tradeshow shirts. You can change in my restroom."

There was a door next to the one I entered. I hadn't noticed it before, but I thought this still might be part of the parallel-universe Simucalc.

"Thanks," I said, and turned towards the CVO's private restroom.

"Ah," he said, "Are you forgetting something?"

"What's that?"

"Don't you have something for me? The reason why you're so wet?"

I slapped my forehead and laid out all the items on his desk, including the torn list from my notebook.

"Great. Now go change."

Mr. Silverman's private restroom was like a typical house's restroom. There was a fuzzy rug on the floor in front of the sink. A hand towel hung from a ring on the wall adjacent to the counter. A can of aerosol freshener and a spare roll of toilet paper sat on top of the toilet's tank cover.

I removed my t-shirt, folded it over, and set it on the counter. The tie-dyed shirt was a little big for me, but was nice to not roam the office building like a cleanup on aisle four.

My soaked shoes squeaked as I removed them and my socks.

As I pulled them off, I heard odd chanting from Mr. Silverman's office. It sounded like a rhythmical reading in a droning, baritone voice. I set my shirt on top of my shoes and socks and left the room as quickly as I could. I didn't want to miss the curse breaking ceremony.

I swear I heard the chants before I opened the door. When I came out of the restroom, Mr. Silverman had his back to me and skimmed through his email. It seemed the IT guy survived long enough to get it working again.

"Did I miss it?" I asked.

"Miss what?" he asked, his back still to me.

"The curse breaking. I thought I heard chanting."

"No, no. You didn't miss a thing. I was just cleaning out some old email. Ritually speaking, of course."

He swiveled his chair around and smiled at me.

"Shirt looks great on you," he said. "Are you ready?"

"After what I've seen today, I'm ready for it all to be over," I said, dropping my soggy shoes, socks, and shirt to the floor near the door to his office.

I walked over to his desk and looked over the items I collected.

"What's all this stuff for? I mean, what's the significance?" I asked.

"Have a seat," he said. He waited until I was seated in the visitor chair in front of his desk.

"Why these five items?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Symbolism, mostly. I'll explain as we go. Are you ready?"