I thought I'd try my hand at writing an Office fic, I've been writing way too much angsty angst for Victorious and I wanted to write something lighthearted. Too much angst ain't good for the soul.

I sadly own nothing

.

I, Cecelia Marie Halpert officially disown my parents.

Why such a sudden act you ask o dearest diary of mine. Because sweet pages of my written discord, they are subjecting me to a summer's long nightmare. Nightmare you ask again, oh dear diary, it's almost too hideous to write down.

James and Pamela Halpert think that somehow, in the strange distorted universe that they believe they live in, it would be good for me to get a summer job.

At Dunder Mifflin.

Working for Michael Scott.

Kill me now.

.

Day 1 of the end of the world as I know it.

.

10:40

My parents think it will be a useful exercise for me to record this summers events so to not only enhance my writing skills, or said lack of, but to also make a momentum of my forthcoming business enrichment. By business enrichment I mean the job I now have at their office.

Erin (no I will not call her 'Aunty Erin' as she always insists) is on maternity leave, leaving me ample opportunity to step in and earn some cash. I really want to buy a car next year when I turn sixteen, so I guess maybe it's worth it. Maybe.

My dad set me up with the job, saying 'It'll be fun and you'll have your money in only a couple of months.'

I then reminded him that that would mean I'd have to work for Michael for 'only a couple of months'

He then promptly offered to match whatever I earned so that the expos- I mean duration of my stay would be lessened.

My dad just gets me.

.

I guess this diary will be useful in other ways. Like they always say on TV that letting your feelings out is good for you, so I'm writing all the bad things away. The bad, bad Michael related things away.

It'll also prove useful source of information for when they finally decided to explore Michael Scott's brain in the autopsy that they will eventually have to do. I'm pretty sure he'll die in a office related accident, like when he finally whacks his head too hard into the keyboard, or like from a heart attack from all the ice-cream cake he eats.

Though it could happen in his home. He recently informed me that he has finally completely Tube Word mark 0.2 in his shed, and I'm pretty sure that in a couple of months all the hamsters will revolt and kill him in the most inhumane way possible. Possibly, a tube through the heart. Maybe that's how you kill a Scott. Like a vampire, but without the stake, more like with a fluorescently coloured tube to the heart.

That'll probably be what they find; a small hamster controlling him from behind his eyes.

I always thought it would be an alien who didn't understand modern conventions and how to actually speak without offending.

My dad thinks it's more likely to be a small monkey.

He's probably right.

.

Though scratch out that last sentence. I refuse to even think of those two selfish, mean beasts that call themselves my parents.

Why you ask? Because they thought it would be nice for me to have yet another sibling. Like four sisters isn't already enough. Oh no, its not like I resent having a large family.

Really it's taught me several valuable life skills, like how to withstand a lack of privacy, which I know isn't a real skill, but if I ever want to go to a nudist beach, I'll have no problems.

Having four sisters is nice and all, but really a fifth?

Of course dad is convinced it's going to be a boy, but really, you would have thought having five daughters already, he would have made a little more of an educated guess.

I think he's cursed to a life of testosterone deprivation. That what you get for being unfairly tall, and NOT PASSING IN ON TO YOUR LOVING DAUGHTER.

Another reason for me 'loving' my parents oh so much is their overflowing genetic generosity.

Seriously though, they could have had like six-foot tall boobtastic kids, and instead they give birth to me, Cecelia 'washboard' Halpert the fourth shortest girl in my homeroom class.

Thanks mom and dad. Thanks a lot.

.

I really hope now this new kid is like freakishly tall and with astronomically large breasts.

Actually do you know what? I changed my mind. I would like this child to be a boy.

And still a giant.

And still with boobs. Yep, man boobs. 'Moobs'.

And then the cosmic balance of the universe cosmic karma thang will be restored.

Hehe man boobs.

Oh God, I'm giggling like Kevin.

The madness has begun!

.

11:04

I'm not actually working today, that starts tomorrow. But seeing as this is basically the last day of my sanity, I'll count it as the first day of my downfall. How poetic. Well not for long. As all my lucid thoughts are pulled from my brain out through my ear I will lose all ability to coherently form sentences.

I'll be reduced to just saying whatever thought comes into my head without pause for contemplation.

I will basically become Michael.

And that thought scares me deeply.

.

11:36

Am I a bitter person? I really hope not. That Angela woman is bitter, like severely bitter.

And blonde.

And short.

Oh sweet brother Bee Gee, I'm becoming Angela!

.

13:05

Calming myself down from that scary thought took me an hour and a half, a long bath and half a tub of ice cream. Well actually it only took me half an hour, then I forgot about it, then came back to my diary, read it again and promptly began to re-freak. But I am now very well bathed.

I think the thing, which is freaking me out most about working in the Office, is Michael. Yep, definitely just Michael.

I like Holly, his wife a lot, but you know how you have those couples, and one is the other's other's antidote. They are not that kind of couple. At all. If anything she just fuels him. Adds fuel to the fire which is Michael Scott.

Mom showed me a video of Michael when he as younger and I guess I can kinda see where all his Michaelness came from. Haha, 100 kids. I feel sorry for Holly, well just 100 more to go then.

.

13:06

I really do need to stop being bitter.

.

13:30

I've realised that, seeing as I carry round this diary everywhere (an inherent fear that my sisters will find it if I have it anywhere other than upon my person) this will be what the police will use to identify me. Its not really a diary diary, more like an old address book which I found with a picture of one of those freakishly large eyed kittens, to which I promptly added tears of blood, large amounts of facial hair and the words 'My Diary'. Hopefully the police will have detectives skilled enough, who can work upon that written clue and realize that this is in fact, my diary.

Well hello friendly police men of the Scranton area, if you cannot already identify my resemblance to Matilda Halpert, a girl which you are all already acquainted with, then I must be either a charred mess on someone's basement's floor or a body without a head. These thoughts are gruesome, I know, but I have to be prepared for the worst. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best. My hope is that my head remains attached to my body.

Here are some fact you might like to know about me.

1. I am, at this point in time, fifteen years old, but I look way younger. My mum says my blue 'doe-like' eyes are just deceiving. That's nice and all, but that is crap. I look like a bug-eyed eight year old. She says my curse will soon turn to my advantage. When she means soon, she means when I'm thirty and will find it extremely flattering to be IDed. She still gets IDed in supermarkets, so I guess she can sympathize with me. Seriously she does. She's like in her forties but hasn't changed a bit. The same with my dad, they look no different from the pictures of their wedding. I sometimes think they sold their souls for immortality. So they could be together forever AND KEEP ON HAVING MORE BLOODY BABIES.

2. As aforementioned. I have quite a few siblings. At this point in time 4 and a half, though I'm pretty sure that number will continue to grow. And grow. And grow. Their names are as follows; Matilda (13), Mary (12), Angelica (9), Victoria (6) and unborn foetus (7 months.)

3. I'm blonde. Well closer to a hybrid mix of dirty blonde and caramel. So a 'Dirty Caramel'. That actually sounds more like a stripper name than a hair colour. Moving on… It's a little bit pink too, from the time my sister, Angelica and I dyed our hair pink for Halloween, but we accidentally used permanent dye instead of semi. Through numerous washing and bleaching and dyeing I eventually got my hair back to near natural colour, but mom was all 'I don't want my Jelly using bleach and dye, it might get into her brain.' I did then point out to her that her hair was already dyed, so the damage was already done. I probably shouldn't have used the word 'damage'. Jelly now has to grow it out, poor thing, though I think, she likes looking like a troll.

4. I will probably be wearing pink. I don't know why but I love the colour. You probably gathered that from the previous fact. I'm really, really not like one of those wannabe valley girls would reek of fake tan and look like they'll gouge out your eyes if you say that you don't own the version eight of the iPhone. It's a real threat people! Well anyway I like pink. Well all icecream colours. And unicorns. I really don't see what's so girly about a horse with a sword attached to its head. I actually sounded just like Dwight then. The madness has truly set in.

.

14:35

Haha Adam just sent me a really funny text

'I decided to burn some calories today. So I set a fat kid on fire.'

Oh it's so funny because its so true.

I retract that statement. Adam is probably the sweetest man-boy you'll ever meet. He's literally the biggest dork too. He sends me all these texts all day long, which leaves me no other option than the retaliate in the most vicious way possible. To text back.

He also lives next door which is handy when our fridge is empty. His house is identical to mine but minus the shag carpeting and the creepy clown picture. And minus the four other wailing, screaming, troll haired sisters.

He just has a very lovely older brother. Did I say lovely? I just meant kind. Yes.

We've lived in the same house my whole life. It's pretty cute if your into that whole seventies thang and all our dead pets are buried in the garden and I don't think I could ever leave them.

And the shag pile carpeting definitely reduces carpet burns when you're dragged across it, and the yellow walls went a long, long time ago. My mum and my sister Mary are perpetually changing their colours. There are cans upon cans of paint sitting by the back door in case the feeling suddenly takes Mary. Which for your information diary, happens a lot. I once returned home to find mine and Jelly's room a repulsive shade of mauve. We refused to talk to her until it was nothing short of a perfect periwinkle.

.

14:40

Periwinkle's a very funny word. Laughing at it sort of eases the pain of knowing all the torment I'll be subjected to tomorrow from ole' Uncle Michael.

.

18:05

I asked mom when she got home, why Michael always insists he's my uncle, and she replied.

'Because he thinks that one can't rebel against their uncle. Especially a fun uncle.'

My life now has an aim.

.

21:45

I'm really scared now, just under 11 hours before I meet with Erin to officially take over her duties. So very, very scared.

.

I really hope that was alright. It was fun being able to define Cecelia as I envisioned her with out any preset characteristics. If anyone was wondering, I'm ignoring the painful, painful fact that Steve Carell is leaving the Office, its just too depressing. In my mind Michael Scott wouldn't ever leave, even if he was kicked out. So the office in fifteen years is basically the same as it is presently. Which is the way it should be.

Enjoyed it? Despised it? Any ideas? Reviews are lovely, lovely things which will help me improve greatly upon my disastrous writing skills.