Story Notes:

Okay, so here's how this'll work. A group of us decided to have some fun with the theme of "office games." We're each going to take a chapter and see what happens. None of us knows what the others have written, so this should be very interesting.

The authors represented here are: Wendy Blue, Cousin Mose, Alex Wert, I Heart Edward Cullen, and HalloweenJack138.

Disclaimer: We obviously don't own anything, so don't sue us. Rated T, just to cover our bases.

Author's Chapter Notes:
Cousin Mose is up first. As far as spoilers go, this is set post "The Job," but really, if you don't know what's going on, why are you reading this?

Minesweeper
By Cousin Mose

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Michael: A wise man once said that there 'ain't no cure for the summertime blues.' And whenever I hear that saying, it makes me think of the olden days, and I feel sad for that man and what he must have gone through. Because we live in a day and age where we have found a cure for the summertime blues—office computer games.

He grins and clicks his mouse a few times.

Michael: We all have our favorite games around here: solitaire, pinball, hearts…but I recently discovered this game called 'minesweeper,' and it's a lot of fun. Here, I'll show you. See, the idea is that you've got this grid of squares, and your enemy is hiding under some of those squares, and you have to try and blow him up…

Click.

Michael: Nope, not under there.

Click.

Michael: Oh, so close…these numbers here are the points I'm getting…how 'bout over here…

Kaboom!

Michael: Yes! Ha! Did you see that? See, I found the bad guy and blew him up with a mine…and these other guys, too—I think they're his friends—and they all blew themselves up when they saw that I blew up this guy here. I guess they had a suicide pact going on or something. So not only is it a fun game… but it's topical.

He nods, grim faced—and just a little misty-eyed.

Michael: Support the troops.

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Michael Scott stood at the door to his office and surveyed the room. It was summer and the area schools were out, signaling the beginning of what was typically the slowest time of the year at Dunder-Mifflin. Michael had been getting pressure from "Herr Ryan," as Michael secretly referred to him, to keep employee productivity high. It would not be easy, he thought to himself. Except for the clicking of computer keys and the occasional hum of the copier, the office was all but silent. Everyone seemed stranded in their own little world of tedium. Michael noticed the camera trained on him, and quickly smiled and walked over to Pam's desk.

"Pam and eggs!" he said, drumming his knuckles along her countertop, startling her. "Any messages?"

"Nope." She said, shaking her head.

"Any faxes that I need to look over?"

"No."

"Any calls at all? For anyone?"

"Nope, none. Sorry." Pam shrugged.

Michael looked at the camera briefly and then back at Pam. "Type something, will ya? We're paying for all this stuff." He grinned at the camera. "Bill Murray. Ghostbusters." He turned back to Pam. "One more thing. If Jan calls, tell her I can't make it home for…lunch…today."

Pam expression was half annoyance, half horror. "Will do, Michael," she said, quickly opening a Word document and typing random words, hoping that he wouldn't dwell on his last thought.

"It's just my back has been really sore lately, y'know?" he said, causing Pam to wish for spontaneous combustion.

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Pam: Remember when we went to the mall with Michael? Ever since Jan moved in with him, it's been like that almost every day. Except now all the other ladies in the office have abandoned Michael so now he just comes and tells me about his problems with Jan.

Her smile is dripping with sarcasm.

Pam: Lucky me, huh? Yeah. I've gotta start watching where he goes a little better. He's like one of those floating ocean bombs with the magnets that blow up ships or something. You never know where and when he'll go off.

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"Let me tell you, the later chapters of the Kama Sutra are not for the faint of heart…" Michael was continuing his story when Pam's salvation came in the form of a phone call.

She quickly answered. "Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam."

"Hey Pam." Jim said quietly into the phone. "Looks like you could use some help over there."

"Oh, hi Jan!" Pam said, seizing the opportunity. "Yeah, Michael is…" Michael's eyes grew wide and he waved his hands back and forth and shook his head. "You know what? Michael is not available. Can he call you back?"

"You are too good at this." Jim's voice came through the receiver. "Really. A master."

Pam smiled. Michael stood, frozen with fear, his eyes silently pleading.

"Okay, I'll have him call you later. Thanks for calling, Jan. Bye."

"My pleasure." Jim chuckled on his end of the phone. He held it to his ear even after Pam hung up so as not to raise suspicion. Not that Michael would have noticed anyway, as he thanked Pam and quickly disappeared back inside his office.

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Jim: Yeah, it's pretty quiet around here this time of year. Everyone is bored and we're sorta getting on each other's nerves. The heat doesn't help much, either. Kelly got into this big argument yesterday with Andy over which Cranberries song was the best, if you can believe that. Stanley's still mad over Michael's Fourth of July "Emancipation Pot-luck-ation" lunch—

He looks off camera and keeps talking to someone.

Jim: you know—the thing with the chains? Yeah.

He looks back at the camera.

Jim: And Angela's upset with…well, everything. So no change there. I guess you could say we're all just trying to watch where we step, you know?

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"Hey Beesly," Jim said as he leaned against her counter and fished out a jellybean from the candy dish, "I am sensing some severe boredom vibes from this general area." He waved his hand around in small circles right in front of Pam.

"You have no idea." She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Hey, thanks for saving me from Michael earlier. I appreciate it."

"No problem. I'll send you a bill later for my services."

"My hero." she laughed.

"So, any messages?" he teased.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm so bored I'm actually wishing for the phone to ring." She said.

"You want me to call you again?" he asked. "So you don't get rusty with your phone skills?"

She giggled. Jim leaned over and glanced at her screen. "Minesweeper?" he asked. "I thought you were strictly a solitaire kind of a girl."

"I don't really 'play' it," she said, "but sometimes I like to create a big grid with only 10 mines and just watch the empty squares disappear."

Jim raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Oookaaay…"

"What?" she asked, sensing his sarcasm.

"Nothing." He grinned. "I think it's good that you're getting your destructive tendencies out here. Much safer for everyone."

"You, especially." She giggled.

"I don't have to take that." Jim feigned shock. "I'll just be over here at my desk." He walked back, sat down, picked up his phone and dialed. A moment later, Pam's phone rang. She made a face at Jim and picked up. He just gave her a 'what?' look.

"You are such a dork sometimes," she said into the receiver.

"See? It's a good thing I called you," he said, "you're already rusty. You're the voice of Dunder-Mifflin, Beesly, and I think you should take that responsibility a little more seriously."

"I'm hanging up on you, Halpert." She laughed.

"People!" Dwight shouted, suddenly appearing from the kitchenette, "What is this?" He held up a small plastic cup. Everyone turned around.

"Never mind," said Jim into the phone, "I think this takes precedent."

"Definitely," agreed Pam and they both hung up and watched the days' edition of the Cirque d'Schrute unfold before them.

"Well?" Dwight demanded again. "What is this?"

"Looks like a cup." Andy said as he walked past.

"Correct, Einstein," snarled Dwight, visually stabbing Andy as he passed, "But a cup of what?"

"Soda?" ventured Phyllis.

"Scotch?" asked Meredith with a twinge of hope in her voice.

"Both wrong!" snapped Dwight, holding the cup out for all to see. "This cup is half full of water!!" he emphasized the last word as though it were burning his tongue. Everyone stared blankly at him. "Do you have any idea what that means?" He continued.

"That you're an optimist?" asked Jim, causing a quiet giggle from Pam, who quickly covered her mouth.

"Dammit, people!" exasperated Dwight, "This is mosquito season! Ever hear of a little thing called the West Nile Virus? Mosquitoes breed in standing water!"

Jim leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly. "How do the mosquitoes get inside the building, Dwight? All the windows are sealed."

Dwight shook his head and smiled at Jim with pity. "Oh, they have their ways, believe me. They feast on blood, and when they want it, they'll find a way to get it. Now then, people: never, EVER leave a cup of water like this out in the open. If you can't finish it, dump it out…"

As Dwight was ranting, an instant message window popped up on Jim's monitor:

FanSeeKnewBeesLee: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

A sly smile spread across Jim's face and he immediately responded:

GymHowlPert: I think so. And I think our day just got more interesting.

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Dwight: Do I fear mosquitoes? Hardly. I fear nothing in this world, and only a handful of things not of this world. Do I respect them, however? Let me put it to you this way: only a fool does not respect his enemies. Mosquitoes—like all good predators—have only one goal. One purpose. And when they see their prize, they take it.

His smile all but causes the lens to frost over.

Dwight: You have to admire that.

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Dwight returned to his desk after lunch and was about to resume working when something caught his eye. He pushed his chair back away from his desk and glared at Jim, who was calmly working and seemingly not paying any attention.

"Very funny," he said, holding up another plastic cup of water. "Did you really think I wouldn't see this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Dwight," Jim shrugged. "Weren't you drinking that cup of water earlier?"

Dwight poured the water into the nearby potted plant and angrily crushed the plastic cup with one hand, making sure Jim was still watching.

Jim smiled. "You certainly showed that cup who was boss," he said.

Dwight sneered and tried to toss the empty cup into a garbage can near the conference room door and missed.

"Oh…so close." Jim said.

"Shut up," said Dwight, as he stood to retrieve the crushed cup. As he did so, he noticed something else, and stormed into the conference room. "Jim!" he barked.

"Yes, Dwight?" Jim looked over to see Dwight stomping out of the conference room, another plastic cup of water in hand. "Oh, no thanks, buddy. I'm not thirsty."

Dwight's lips disappeared into thin white lines of hate. "This isn't over, Jim!" he growled and headed for Michael's office.

Just then, a quiet ding caught Jim's attention, and he turned to see a new message on his screen:

FanSeeKnewBeesLee: No…it's just beginning!

Jim suppressed a snort and typed back:

GymHowlPert: Goosebumps, Beesly. 100 percent goosebumps.

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"Michael, I need to talk to you right now!" Dwight said as he entered the office and closed the door. "In private."

"Ugh, can't it wait? I'm really busy right now." Michael clicked his mouse happily around his minesweeper game until he heard a satisfying kaboom! "Ha! Take that, Al-Qaeda!" Pleased with himself, he looked up at Dwight. "Why are you holding garbage?"

"This is not garbage, Michael." Dwight explained. "This is evidence, and…what is that?"

"Evidence? What is what? What are you talking about?" Michael exasperated.

"This!" Dwight picked up a small plastic cup of water from under a chair. "Here's another one! How did this get here?"

"I don't know." Michael shrugged. "I never noticed it. What is going on?"

"I have reason to suspect Jim Halpert of biological terrorism." Dwight said as calmly as he could. "He has been hiding cups of standing water—like these—around the office in an apparent attempt to spread the West Nile virus."

"Good God, Dwight, should we call Homeland Security?" Michael rolled his eyes.

"I have them on speed dial. Say the word, Michael." Dwight's eyes danced with the sort of glee usually reserved for medieval executioners. "Please. Say the word."

"You idiot, I was joking. We're not calling Homeland Security."

Dwight's eyes narrowed. He was not about to accept defeat. "Fine. Permission to commandeer all the available pantyhose in the office, then."

Michael just stared at Dwight. "I don't even want to know…"

"For mosquito netting."

"Get out."

Dwight exited Michael's office and saw Jim smiling at him. He returned the volley with a hostility-filled ace of his own and dumped the plastic cups in the trash before heading to his own desk. He had only taken a few steps when he suddenly changed course towards Stanley's desk.

Picking up another cup off the desk, he held it up triumphantly towards Jim. "You won't beat me." He said, pouring the water into a nearby plant and crushing the cup. "I am always one step ahead of you."

"HEY!" Stanley suddenly appeared from the men's room behind Dwight. "I was drinking that!"

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GymHowlPert: So what's the total so far?

FanSeeKnewBeesLee: He's found six more that I've noticed, but I haven't been back to the break room in a while. Also, last time I checked, he hadn't found the one in the ladies' room yet, either.

GymHowlPert: I'm sure he's waiting until we've all left. Excellent work today, Miss Beesly.

FanSeeKnewBeesLee: Why thank you, Mr. Halpert.

GymHowlPert: Care to celebrate our victory over dinner?

FanSeeKnewBeesLee: Sounds lovely. Just one thing, though.

GymHowlPert: What?

FanSeeKnewBeesLee: Don't order the water. :)

GymHowlPert: Check.

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Chapter End Notes:
Stay tuned for more chapters from different authors!