It's got to happen. The summer is full of Fridays, at least 12 of them, sunny, lovely Fridays just beggin' for the beach, the ballpark or the good old blanket in the backyard. But first... The Boss. You've already made The Decision, you ain't going into work No Way. You started the mental gymnastics as soon as the alarm clock rang; you rationalized, you justified and finally released The Guilt like the string of a fluttery kite. Now you've arrived at the Sweet Rebellion: "What the hell, I deserve a little holiday," "What am I a drone, a cog in the wheel, a milquetoast?" You pop the top on that breakfast beer, pull on those raggedy cutoffs, sit down by the telephone and tap your bare toes while you think up a Fish Story. It's got to be good, it is a Friday in the middle of July. It's got to be a whopper, or subtly brilliant, or so obtuse it'll just give him a headache and he'll say: See you Monday. If you've already called in sick on one or two other Fridays this summer, it's going to have to be a work of art, a first rate fraud, a delicious deception. Here's what we came up with on our survey (yes, they're true) of some of the most devious minds in the working world today. You are welcome to add these to your list of Whoppers.