Your boss is going to come to your desk this morning and wait for you to finish taking an appointment for him. You'll let the phone call linger longer than it needs to because you hate it when he stands by your desk and waits. When you finally hang up he'll say,
"Let's make gayfaces at each other."
"Gayfaces?" you'll say.
"Gayfaces. Like this." Your boss will make the face of a man who's just learned that the woman he thought was his mother was actually his father's second wife, and that she had conspired with his father to murder his natural mother.
"Oh," you'll say. "You mean like this?" Make the face of a woman who has nowhere to sleep tonight, just like last night.
"No! Gayfaces!" he'll shout. "Like this!" Your boss will make the face of Ramo, the grafitti artist who got electrocuted on the third rail of the subway in Beat Street. Except he'll make the face Ramo would have made if he was watching a magic show.
"Oh," you'll say. "I get it. Like this." Make a face like you're trying to fart but can't.
Your boss will say, "Forget it."
Say, "Wait I think I got it." Then dig your fingers into your cheeks and scratch four bloody wounds down each side of your face. Dig deep enough that the blood will flow fast and drip from your chin and onto your desk.
Your boss will say, "You suck at making gayfaces."
Just then Kevin from accounting will approach your boss. They'll make gayfaces at each other and you'll realize what you were doing wrong.
Your boss will say about Kevin, "Now that's a gayface."
Say, "I understand. I'll pack my things."
Empty your desk into a box and go.
Happy Gayfaces Day!