Title: The Prank
Author: Steph & Mike
Rating: PG
Pairing: Bit of Pam/Jim
Category: Humor
Disclaimer: I do this out of a love for the show. No infringement is intended.
Spoilers: General plot stuff from recent episodes
Summary: For April Fool's Day, Michael tricks his employees into thinking they have won a weekend trip to Las Vegas from corporate.
Notes: I've written for many shows, but this is my first "The Office" fanfic. I actually wrote this with help and contributions from my brother, Mike. One thing to be aware of as you read: all of the camera interviews are in italics to set them apart. Well, hope you enjoy it and please let us know what you thought! - Steph
---The Prank: Part 1/1---
Michael Scott leaned back in his chair and looked at the camera.
"Truthfully, I think of everyday as April Fool's Day. It makes it more exciting, suspenseful. If you asked my employees if they look forward to coming to work, they would say, 'Of course. We never know what's going to happen next'. That makes for a happier work environment. So, I say why devote just one day to that? Of course, today is the actual April Fool's Day and that means today must be extra special."
He grinned and raised his eyebrows mischievously.
---
Jim twirled his pencil between his fingers.
"So, today is April Fool's Day. This is actually my favorite day of the year. Why you ask?" He smiles and looks out the glass window at Dwight who is pulling all of his desk drawers open and inspecting them with a flashlight. "Well, today I get to sit back, relax and watch Dwight torture himself. You see, I work hard at torturing Dwight the rest of the year. One day a year, I need a break. The first April Fool's Day I worked here, Dwight was convinced I was going to pull the greatest prank of all. He felt that if I pranked him every other day of the year, then this day would be the worst of all. He confronted me and I said, 'Don't worry, Dwight. I'm taking the day off. In fact, I'll take every April Fool's Day off. You rest easy.' This, of course, only further convinced him that I was out to get him, which is exactly what I thought it would do. You see, I use the greatest weapon I have against Dwight: himself. He works himself into a paranoid frenzy every year. And every year nothing happens." He smiles and folds his hands behind his head. "Best day of the year."
----
"Here, this came for you," Pam said, as she handed Dwight a white envelope.
Dwight gingerly gripped the envelope between his thumb and forefinger and help it up to his eyes. "Where did you get this?"
"It came in the mail," Pam replied with a roll of her eyes.
"It doesn't have a return address."
Pam shrugged.
Dwight held it up to his nose and sniffed it. "Smells like almonds."
"So?" Pam said.
"Maybe you're unfamiliar with cyanide, Pam, but it gives off an almond scent after you ingest it. Look it up."
"But you didn't ingest the envelope."
"Not yet I didn't. And I won't."
"Why would you ever ingest an env-..."
Pam was cut off by Dwight walking over to the shredder and putting the envelope through it.
Pam's eyes widened. "Why did you do that? You don't even know what was in it. It could have been important."
"Or deadly. Pam, would you walk over to a box marked 'bomb' and open it up to see if it was actually a bomb? No, you would not."
"But that's not the same-..." Pam's voice trailed off as she realized it would be in vain.
----
"Do I think Jim is out to get me? Yes. Do I think he will succeed? No. Fact: Every April Fool's Day Jim tries to pull the greatest prank ever on me. And every year I defeat him. How? Because I am wily and have incredible instincts. Nothing gets by me. My senses are heightened, more today than any other day. It's almost like I have superpowers but I don't have to wear a stupid cape and tights."
---
Michael walked out of his office and raised his hands up in the air. "Okay, gather around kind and faithful servants." He looked at Stanley, then at the camera, then at Stanley again. "I mean, employees. Servants, that's insulting. Sorry, Stanley."
"Why are you apologizing to me? You called us all servants."
"Yeah, but you're black. I mean, African-American. Blacks, slaves, servants. Get the connection? You should really learn more about your people. Isn't it Black History Month?"
"That was in February," Stanley replied.
"Well, that's gotta suck, right? Shortest month of the year and they give it to the blacks," Michael said with a laugh and a look at the camera.
Everyone looked down at the floor.
---
Pam stared blankly at the camera.
"You know when someone says or does something so embarrassing that you feel embarrassed for them? Well, that's what it's like with Michael...every time he says or does...anything."
---
Michael clapped his hands together and looked at his employess. "So, I've got great news. I'm talking unbelievably great news." He stopped and smiled into the camera.
Angela rolled her eyes, "Well, are you going to tell us what it is or not?"
"Yes, Angela, I am going to tell you what it is," Michael snapped. "I was just pausing for effect. Patience is a virtue, Angela." He looked into the camera. "That's my motto."
"The great news?" Jim asked.
Michael sighed. "Fine, if you guys are going to act like a bunch of spoiled, impatient children, I guess I'll just tell you. Corporate just called. Our branch had the highest sales revenue last month. They started a new incentive program to try to increase sales and we are actually the first beneficiaries."
Dwight's eyes narrowed, "What incentive program? I am not aware of any incentive program. As Assistant Regional Man-..."
"Assistant to the Reg-...You know what, Dwight? I don't tell you everything."
Dwight looked down at the ground.
Jim raised a finger up. "I don't understand. Incentive programs are meant to motivate us to increase our numbers, but if we didn't know about the program then how could we use it as an incentive?"
Michael sighed. "Whoa, okay, I think we're focusing a little too much on the program. Who cares? We won and now we get rewarded."
"So, what's the reward?" Phyllis asked.
Michael rubbed his hands together. "Four weeks from today, on May 1st, we are all going on a weekend trip to...drumroll please." Michael looked around at them. "I said...drumroll please." Still nothing. He sighed and said flatly. "Las Vegas."
The employees faces lit up.
"Yessssssssssss! Yessssssssssss!" Dwight screamed.
---
"My cousin, Mose, went there for a Beet Convention once. He said it was insane. There are hookers everywhere. They just walk right up to you. He went back to his room with one. Turns out, it was a man. That must have been an awkward four hours. She slash he wouldn't give him his money back. I told him he should take it to the Better Business Bureau. False advertising. But he didn't listen to me. Idiot." He paused and then held up a finger. "Question: Do hookers accept poker chips as payment?"
---
Jim grinned. "Las Vegas? Are you kidding? I've always wanted to go to Las Vegas." He paused and then eyed Michael. "Wait, a minute. This isn't a prank, is it? Because today is April Fool's Day and this would be a great opportunity to-..."
Michael scoffed at that. "Are you kidding? How obvious would that be? 'Hey, we're going on a fake trip'. Come on, talk about lack of creativity. Please, give me a little more credit than that."
Pam shook her head. "Seriously, if this is a joke, you're going to have a lot of unhappy people coming into work on that Monday."
Michael held up his hand. "I would not joke about something like this, Pam. It just so happens to have been announced on April Fool's Day. It's the first of the month. Talk to corporate if you've got a problem with when they announce things...except not today because they're, like, really busy over there. Their words, not mine. Anyway, don't shoot the messenger." He paused and smiled at the camera. "Well, enjoy the rest of the workday, my friends."
---
"Pretty good, huh?" Michael said with a grin at the camera, as he leaned back in his chair with his feet up on his desk. "The great thing about this job is I get to hone my improvisational skills. That 'don't shoot the messenger thing'? Completely ad-libbed." He shrugged. "I'm an entertainer. That's my gift. Everyone has a gift and that's mine. For some people it's being a good artist, like Pam. But that's not entertaining. That doesn't bring people joy. You don't go to an art museum and look at those ugly paintings and feel entertained. No, you think 'I have something exactly like this hanging on my refrigerator that my three year old did. I wonder how much I could get for it'." He stopped and stared into the camera, "And that doesn't bring out the good in us, like my gift. That brings out the worst. That brings out greed."
---
Jim leaned on the counter and looked at Pam.
"This is pretty great, huh? I mean, it's Vegas."
Pam smiled. "I know, I've always wanted to go. Roy and I were supposed to go to his cousin's wedding that weekend though."
Jim's face fell. "Well, if you have a commitment."
Pam shook her head. "Are you kidding? It's Vegas. His cousin will get over it. She doesn't like me anyway."
"What about Roy?"
"Roy will be fine. Open bar."
Jim smiled.
---
"Am I excited about going to Vegas?" Jim asked. "Of course. I had a friend go there once. Spent a week there, doesn't remember a thing." He nodded. "And it will be cool to spend some time with Pam. Do a little gambling, grab something to eat, take in a show. Yeah, I'm excited."
---
Dwight walked to his desk, his eyes widening at what sat on top of it: a cupcake and a note saying, 'Thinking of You'.
Dwight's eyes roamed wildly around. They landed on Ryan a couple of desks away. "Did you see who put this here?"
Ryan shrugged, never taking his attention off his work. "Not really. I'm kind of busy."
"Yes or no, Ryan."
Ryan sighed and dropped his pen. "I don't know. Maybe. I caught someone's legs walk by out of the corner of my eye."
"Male or female?"
"I really don't know."
"You can't tell the difference between male and female legs?"
"The legs had pants on."
"Look at my legs."
"I really don't want-..."
"Look at my legs!"
Ryan moved his eyes to Dwight's legs.
"Can you tell they're male?"
"I don't-..."
Dwight rolled his eyes. "You're useless. You have zero observational skills. I'm surprised you've lived this long."
With that, he pressed his hand down onto the cupcake and smashed it. He then threw it and the note away.
---
"Are my observational skills above average? Yes. I once saw a man get mugged. I went down to the police station and identified the perpetrator. That 87 year old grandmother should have known better than to mess with Dwight Shrute. Open heart surgery as an alibi? Please."
---
Dwight walked into Michael's office.
"I was just wondering if we are going to have our own hotel room or if we are going to be sharing with anyone."
"Oh uh-..."
"Because I would be honored to share a room with you, Michael."
Michael's face twisted in disgust. "Ew, Dwight, don't say stuff like that."
"Think of the fun we could have. We could watch movies and eat out of the snack bar."
"Separate rooms," Michael said. "Corporate policy."
Dwight's face fell.
---
Dwight stared at the camera. "I've always pictured myself as a Vegas kind of guy, fast-talkin' and fast livin'. The kind of guy that takes all your money in a poker game and then buries you in the hot, steamy desert. That's me. Although I'm a hard worker and devote 99 of my mind, body and spirit to the office, I have to admit that I often imagine pulling a heist. Michael and I are like George Clooney and Brad Pitt in 'Ocean's Eleven'...not Twelve, that sucked. He's Clooney and I'm Pitt. Except we probably won't steal anything while we're there. Except maybe the hearts of all the ladies."
Dwight flashed a creepy smile at the camera and twitched his eyebrows twice.
---
Michael walked up to Pam's desk and tapped his hands on the counter. "Pam-a-lama-ding-dong."
Pam stared at him. "Can I help you?"
"Nope, just checking on my favorite receptionist. You excited about the trip? I mean, it must be a nice change of pace from your normal weekends of doing what...needlepoint?"
"I don't needlepoint."
"Crochet?"
"No."
"Knit."
"So, you didn't want anything then?"
"Can't a boss ask his-..."
"It's just that I'm busy."
Michael nodded. "Well, so am I, Pam. I am very busy, but I care enough about you to see how you're doing."
"You were counting moles on your body last time I went in to give you something."
"I was just checking my moles for irregularities. That's healthy...that's just good health. How can that not be considered bus-...You know what? Just forget it."
Pam smiled into the camera as he stalked off.
---
Jim walked up to Angela's desk.
"So you must be excited, right? Celine Dion has a show in Vegas. You're, like, obsessed with Celine Dion, aren't you?"
"I have a healthy appreciation for Celine Dion."
"Didn't you name one of your cats Celine?"
"I don't really think that's any of your business."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. All of your cats are named after female singers, right? Celine, Liza, Shania, Faith, Barbra."
Angela glared at him. Jim shrugged. "So, are you going to get some tickets to her show? I hear they're pretty expensive."
"I haven't decided yet."
He nodded. "Fair enough." He then hooked his thumb behind him. "Have you seen Dwight lately? He's been acting kind of strange. Ryan said he smashed a cupcake for no reason. Pretty crazy."
Angela's jaw tightened, as she looked in Dwight's direction. Jim smiled.
---
Michael sat on the edge of Ryan's desk. Ryan slowly looked up at him.
"Are you excited about the trip?"
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
---
"Wow, what do I like about Vegas? Well, I don't really gamble, I don't care about the shows and I'm not really into the whole prostitution thing. I'll probably just sleep."
---
"You guess? It's Vegas, Ryan! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." Michael raised his eyebrows up at the camera.
"What's gonna happen?" Ryan asked warily.
"I have no idea! That's what's so great! We might wake up and have no idea where we are. Or maybe we'll get drunk and hook up with some nas-..." he stopped and eyed the camera "...nice, young women. And by 'hook up' I, of course, meant, hook them...up...on phonics...because you know Vegas women...not the brightest."
"I think you meant Hooked on Phonics."
"I know what I meant."
Ryan bobbed his head. "So, I'm kind of busy. Did you want something else?"
Michael shook his head. "Nope, just checking in on my favorite temp."
"Okay, well, I'm good. Thanks."
---
"Do I feel bad about tricking them? Of course not. It's all in good fun. We'll get to the airport and when I tell them they are going to laugh like you won't believe. They'll be like, 'You evil genius, you. You got us!'"
---
Pam waved Jim over to her desk.
"What?"
She smiled and held up a small box. "This just came for Dwight."
Jim grinned. "What is it?"
"I think it's those pens he ordered with his name and Assistant Regional Manager on them." She shook her head. "He put an envelope through a shredder today because of you. He thought it contained cyanide."
"It's too easy," he said with a smile.
---
"Today is Jim's favorite day of the year. It's nice seeing him get so excited about something. Working here...you have to have something to look forward to...or you won't make it. This is what Jim looks forward to. I...look forward to seeing Jim everyday." Her face froze and she looked down at her hands. She then raised her head and smiled sheepishly at the camera. "Is there anyway you could edit that out? No? Really? Okay."
---
Just then, Dwight walked by.
"Dwight," Pam said. "This just came for you."
Dwight twitched his nose at the box. "This came in the mail?"
"UPS."
He placed the tips of both of his fingers on each side of the box and held it up to his nose. Jim and Pam had to bite their lips to keep from laughing.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked.
"Smelling it for suspicious odors."
"Why don't you just open it?" he asked.
Dwight scoffed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He held it up to his ear. "No ticking."
"It's addressed to you," Pam said. "I think it's those pens you ordered."
Dwight shook the box. "It doesn't sound like pens."
"What do pens sound like?" Jim asked.
"They have a very distinctive sound, Jim."
Jim took the box from him. "Here, I'll open it."
Dwight pulled the box from his grip. "That is a federal offense."
With that, Dwight dropped the box and stomped on it. Jim and Pam's eyes widened as the box opened and the broken pens spilled out. Ink splattered all over Dwight's pants.
"Pens," Jim said.
"They appear to be pens, but there's no telling." He paused and then glared at Jim, "Foiled again."
Jim grinned at Pam.
---
"Can I be fooled? No. As the famous George W. Bush saying goes, 'Fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you.' You see, I was fooled once in my life. It will never happen again. I will never forget that day. You might be surprised looking at me today, but I was not a very popular child. When I was in the 5th grade, some kids snuck into the room where the announcements were made, called my 5th grade class and reported that my whole family had been killed by a man wielding a baseball bat. Still to this day, I can't watch baseball."
---
Toby sighed as Michael approached his desk.
"Toby. Man, you must be excited about the trip. I mean, your weekends must be pathetic. You know, since you're divorced."
"Actually, I see my daughter on the weekends."
"Sure, but who wants to spend the whole weekend with a kid, right? Talk about dragging you down. Can't get action from the ladies with a kid tugging on your leg."
"I like spending time with my daughter."
Michael's eyes widened and he looked at the camera. "Wow, loser."
---
"To tell you the truth, Vegas holds some bad memories for me. I got married in Vegas. I only knew her for three weeks and we decided to go on a spotaneous trip. We had too much to drink and drove up to one of those drive-thru chapels thinking it was a McDonald's." He paused and then shrugged. "The rest is history."
---
Jim saw Michael approaching, so he reached for the phone.
"Yeah, sure. I can make that happen."
Michael sat on the edge of Jim's desk and held up the phone's cord which was not attached to the unit.
"Working hard, I see."
Jim's eyes widened at the cord. He looked at Dwight who smiled at him. Jim slowly hung up the phone.
"Oh, that must have just happened. It sounded like a lost the guy on the other end."
Michael patted Jim on the back. "Ah, who cares? I pretend to work all the time. I've turned it into an art form. So, onto more important matters. This trip has got to be exciting for you, right? Spend a little alone time with Pam. Maybe get a little ca-razy."
Jim looked around and then whispered. "Could you keep it down, please?"
Michael nodded and put his finger to his lips. "Right. No one's supposed to know. Isn't that, like, the worst kept secret?"
Jim shook his head. "Seriously, please stop-..."
"Say no more, my friend. My lips are sealed." Michael made a zipping motion with his fingers over his lips.
---
"How does it feel having Michael know about my feelings for Pam? Well, it's kind of like waiting for a bomb to explode. You see the numbers ticking down. You know it's going to happen. You know there's nothing you can do. I mean, not even MacGyver could stop it. You just sit there feeling helpless." He nodded. "So, yeah, that's how it feels."
---
Angela approached Dwight's desk. She folded her arms over her chest.
"Did you get anything unexpected today?"
"Actually, I did. I received a suspicious package, envelope and cupcake. The cupcake looked delicious but had to be destroyed."
Angela's jaw tightened. "Well, I guess I will be going to see Celine by myself then."
Dwight's brow furrowed. "But you know I love Celine. I like her manly features and how she hits her chest like Tarzan."
"I will not ruin my Celine experience by sharing it with someone who can so thoughtlessly destroy something that was given to him."
"You sent the pens?"
Angela rolled her eyes. "Good-bye, Dwight."
---
Dwight stared at Jim as he made a sales call. Jim looked at him out of the corner of his eye and finally put his hand over the receiver.
"Um, could you please stop doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me."
"Why? Am I bothering you?"
"It's just that I'm trying to work."
"Well, I've been trying to work all day too, Jim. That hasn't stopped you."
Jim rolled his eyes and talked into the phone. "Okay, thanks. Bye." He hung up the phone and looked at Dwight. "I haven't done anything to you, Dwight. Just like I promised."
Dwight rolled his eyes. "Oh please. You just haven't succeeded."
Jim held his hands up in defeat. "Believe what you want." He then stood up and started to walk away when a piece of paper on the ground caught his eye. He bent down to pick it up. It was Dwight's weekly lottery ticket. He handed it to Dwight.
"Hey, this was on the floor. It's your lottery ticket."
Dwight eyed him suspiciously for a moment before taking it from him. "I actually forgot to check my numbers this morning."
Jim picked up a newspaper from his desk. "Here. You can use my newspaper."
Jim handed Dwight the newspaper. Dwight looked at him for a long moment before holding his ticket up to the paper. He slowly read off the numbers. "4...8...15...16...23...42." His eyes widened and he began to breathe rapidly.
He stood up and threw his arms up in the air. "Oh my God! I won! I won!"
Jim stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously? The numbers match?"
Dwight's mouth fell open and he slowly dropped his arms to his side. "Oh, I cannot believe you. That is low, even for you."
Jim's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"So how did you do it, huh? Fake newspaper? Old newspaper?"
Jim picked up the newspaper. "Look, today's date. Scranton Times. It's not fake or old."
"So then the ticket's fake then."
Jim shook his head. "It has yesterday's date on it, Dwight. Those are the same numbers you play every week. They're the 'Lost' numbers. I swear I didn't do anything. You won. God help me, you won."
Dwight shook his head. "You disgust me. A real man would admit when he's been defeated."
With that, Dwight held up the lottery ticket and tore it into tiny pieces. He let the remains slowly float to the floor.
Jim's mouth dropped open.
--
He stared straight into the camera. "Oh. My. God."
---
Dwight smiled in satisfaction. "Face it, Jim. You'll never get me."
Jim could only shake his head and shrug. "No, I guess not."
---
"Every week I play the numbers from the hit television show 'Lost'. A lot of people probably think they're unlucky so they don't play them. Not me. I think you make your own luck. Someday those numbers are going to make me a rich man. For real. I'll show Jim."
---
--Two Weeks Later--
Jim dropped a newspaper onto Dwight's desk.
"It says here they're still waiting for the tenth winner of the 300 million dollar lottery to come forward."
Dwight looked up at Jim. "I didn't want to share my winnings with nine other people anyway."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "It would be still be 30 million dollars, Dwight."
"Not after taxes. Do you have any idea how much it would be after taxes?"
"Uh, still a lot of money. More than you could ever hope to make in five lifetimes."
"You don't know that. In my next life, I could come back as Donald Trump. Or Bill Gates."
Jim rolled his eyes and sighed. "You lost a lot of money because of your paranoia, Dwight. I didn't do anything to you."
"The money's probably cursed anyway. Those numbers are unlucky."
"They're from a TV show."
"Mark my words. In a year, those nine people's lives will be destroyed. I don't want to end up on some freaky island. I have great instincts and survival skills, so I'd be fine. But who wants to live with a bunch of monsters and a Korean couple?"
Jim simply stared at him, his mouth hanging open.
---
"So, it's been two weeks since I made my annoucement. The best thing about this April Fool's prank is that it goes beyond just April Fool's Day. It's like April Fool's Month." He smiled and chuckled. "They are so excited. Angela forgave Dwight for ruining the cupcake and bought two tickets to see Celine Dion. Do you have any idea how expensive those are? Pam's missing Roy's cousin's wedding. Stanley's missing his daughter's dance recital. Creed's missing his son's college graduation." He shook his head. "They've made sacrifices. It's a free trip to Vegas. Happens once in a lifetime. I mean, how many times is that kid going to graduate from college?" He paused and then swallowed. "Well, probably just the one time, but, you know, that's Creed's choice. Everyone has to set their own priorities. And it's not like he's really going to miss it. Once I make the reveal, he can go. They all can go and do what they had decided wasn't as fun as going to Vegas. See? Nobody gets hurt." Michael shrugged his shoulders. "Well, except for Angela. That's three hundred bucks she'll never see again." A grin spread across the lips. "Bottom line: I've given my employees something to be excited about. There are bound to be a few casualties. That's the price you pay for excitement."
---
"Sure, I'm excited about Vegas. What am I looking forward to?" Kevin gave his patented deadpan look to the camera, "The buffets. I like to eat. A lot."
---
Phyllis leaned in towards the camera. "I love Las Vegas. It brings back a lot of really great memories for me. Nobody around here knows, but as a young woman, I made my living as a Vegas showgirl. That…was a long time ago."
---
Kelly's face lit up. "The shopping. OH MY GOD! I hear the shopping in Vegas is unbelievable. I'm going to buy shoes, dresses, hats. You name it and it's mine. The only problem is money. Maybe I can meet some rich, foreign guy who will buy me things in exchange for sex." She paused and then asked, "Is that wrong?"
---
Creed looked off camera and directed his own question to the interviewer. "You…wouldn't happen to know how close the Bunny Ranch is to Vegas would you?"
---
--Two Weeks Later: May 1st--
After work on Friday, the employees boarded the bus one by one.
Stanley took the first seat in back of the driver. The other employees took their seats at various parts of the bus. Dwight was last to board.
"Um, Stanley, I believe you're in my seat."
Stanley looked around bewildered.
"What do you mean, 'your seat'?"
"Whenever I ride in a vehicle of mass transportation, I must sit on the left side near the window. Statistics show that passengers seated on the left side closest to the window are more likely to survive in the event of an accident."
Jim's voice emerged from the back of the bus.
"Wow, Dwight, you really have to stop watching 60 minutes."
"Please, Jim. We don't need your witty commentary," Dwight snapped.
"There are more seats along the side of the bus, Dwight," Stanley said.
"Yes, I realize that, Stanley, but I would like to sit behind the driver in case he gets lost. I could lend him some assistance. My navigational skills are second to none. Once, as a child, my parents left me in the woods. I found my way back home in less than a week. The only aid I was given was by a homeless man I met along the way named Clyde. He gave me a warm place to sleep. We spooned the whole night, utilizing the warmth our bodies emitted to get us through the harsh, cold winter's night."
Kevin droned from across the aisle.
"Your parents abandoned you?"
"They did not abandon me, Kevin. It was an exercise in survival. One which I passed with flying colors."
Michael stood up and threw his hands in the air.
"Okay, enough. God, I can't take it anymore. Stanley, could you please get up and move to the back of the bus?"
Stanley cocked his head towards Michael. "Excuse me?"
"Yeah, you heard me, Rosa."
Michael glanced at the camera, his Cheshire Cat smile plastered on his face. The bus fell silent.
"What?" he asked.
---
"So, I rented a bus for the trip to the airport. It's a business expense. Did I run it by Jan? No. I don't run everything by Jan. Plus, she would have said no. Jan has no sense of humor."
---
Ten minutes later, Michael stood up and looked around at his employees. They were engaged in quiet conversations and reading. He shook his head in dismay.
"There's a bomb on the bus!" he yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth.
They all stopped what they were doing. Some stared, eyes wide with shock, mouths hanging open. Others began to scream. A few began to cry.
Michael grinned. "There we go. Now we've got some excitement going. I wasn't sure if we were going to Vegas or a Senior Citizen Bingo Convention."
Pam shook her head. "We were being too quiet and calm so you decided to say there was a bomb on the bus?"
"Yeah, you know. Like in 'Speed'. Great movie. Keanu's best."
---
Dwight leaned toward the camera. "If there had been a bomb on the bus, I could have handled it. I've seen 'Speed' 150 times. It's my favorite movie. 'There's a bomb on a bus. What do you do? What do you do!' Dennis Hopper. A hero of mine." He paused and then added, "I could keep this bus above fifty miles per hour better than Sandra Bullock. She was too careful. Trying to avoid hitting a baby carriage? Please."
---
Michael clapped his hands together. "How about we sing a song? Any requests?"
Angela looked at him blankly. "How about we sit quietly until we can get off of this smelly, dirty bus?"
Michael smiled into the camera. "Sorry, I don't know that one." He paused and thought for a minute. "How about 'The Song that Never Ends'?"
Jim looked at Pam. "That can't be good."
Michael began to sing. "This is the song that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friends. Some-" He stopped and raised his hands up. "Everyone."
Pam sighed and addressed Michael. "Do we have to sing? I mean, can't we just have a nice, peaceful ride to the airport?"
Michael's face fell. He sank down into his seat. "Excuse me for trying to inject a little life into this bus ride."
Jim leaned into the aisle toward Michael. "Actually, maybe we should use this time to pass out our plane tickets. You know, get ourselves organized. It's going to get chaotic once we get to the airport. There are a lot of us."
Michael's eyes widened. "Plane tickets? Oh...well...I feel more comfortable holding them until we need to present them. I wouldn't want anyone to lose them."
Jim's brow furrowed. "We're all responsible adults. I think we can handle it."
"Really? You think so?"
Michael stood up and looked at Kevin. "Hey, Kev, did you pack everything you need for the weekend?"
Kevin thought for a minute. "Yeah."
"Underwear?"
He paused for a long moment. "Oh, no."
Michael gave Jim a pointed look. Jim shook his head. "That's one example."
Michael shook his head and patted his jacket pocket, where the imaginary tickets were safely tucked away. "Better safe than sorry, Jim."
---
The bus pulled up to the curb and the employees filed out. The bus driver helped them unload their luggage from an area below the bus.
"Follow me," Michael said, as he waved them inside.
Michael walked to the check-in line. He randomly chose American Airlines. The line was so long it extended outside the roped area.
Michael looked at Pam. "Looks like we're going to be here a while."
"Can we have our tickets now?"
"I'm the boss. I'll handle all of this."
The employees waited as patiently as possible. They did the slow-moving-line-shuffle. They kicked their bags and moved two inches every minute or so. After over an hour in line, they finally made it to the counter.
Michael grinned at the ticket agent. "Whoa, all of that and there isn't even a ride at the end. I was hoping for Space Mountain," he chuckled.
The woman smiled politely. "Welcome to American Airlines. May I have your ticket please?"
"I actually booked online...so it should all be there in the computer."
"Sir, you should still have an electron-..."
Michael tapped her computer monitor. "Check it out."
"Sir, please do not touch my computer."
Michael turned around to his employees who were beginning to get annoyed. "Wow, little weird about her computer."
The agent ignored the comment. "Fine. What is your name?"
"Michael Scott."
The agent's fingers moved quickly over the keys. She typed and typed. Michael laughed and leaned over the counter to look at the keyboard. "What are you doing there? Typing up missile codes?"
"Please do not lean over the counter, sir." She paused and looked at the screen. "I'm sorry, I have no record of you."
"Well, check again. I am not going to disappoint my employees. We're going to Vegas."
"I've checked three times. There is no record."
Michael slammed his hands down on the counter. "This is an abomination! My employees have earned this trip! Can I speak to your manager!"
"Sir, lower your voice, please."
"No, I will not lower my voice!"
"Sir, I'm going to have to call security."
"Go ahead. I'll tell them how horrible your airline is."
---
"Did I go a little far at the airport? Maybe. My plan was to act like the airline made a mistake and then tell them it was all a prank. But this is what happens when you're a master at improv like I am. Sometimes you don't know when to stop."
---
The agent picked up the phone. "Security, please."
Jim walked up to Michael and whispered, "Just apologize."
"I will not apologize, Jim. I'm fighting for our rights."
"You said you had tickets. Where are they?"
Michael shook his head. "That's irrelevant."
"No, it's really not."
Just then, two security guards approached the counter. The agent pointed at him.
Each guard grabbed Michael by an arm. "Please come with us, sir."
Michael's eyes widened. "No, wait, this is all just a big misunderstanding. Maybe I overreacted a little."
The employees watched as Michael was dragged out of sight.
---
Michael placed his face in his hands. He sighed and looked up at the head of airport security, Mr. Fineman.
"Look, I'm sorry. I got a little out of control."
"Where were you and your employees planning on going?"
Michael smiled. "You're going to laugh when you hear this. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday."
Mr. Fineman stared at him. "I'm not easily entertained."
"I...felt that about you." He paused and then added. "Well, the truth is, we weren't going anywhere."
"What do you mean?"
"I told my employees we won a trip to Vegas. It was an April Fool's Day prank."
"It's May."
"It was a long prank. Classic."
Mr. Fineman's brow furrowed and he ran his hand over his bald head. "You did that to your employees? What kind of boss are you?"
"It was a joke."
Mr. Fineman looked at one of the security guards. "Fred, you hear this? This guy tricked his employees into thinking they won a trip to Vegas. April Fool's Day prank he let go for a whole month."
Fred shook his head. "That's low, man."
Michael chuckled nervously. "It's funny. Come on!" They both shook their heads. Michael sighed and mumbled, "Nobody ever questions Ashton like this."
---
Three hours later, Michael had been interrogated and was free to go. Mr. Fineman let the employees into the interrogation room to pick him up. He had to be released into their custody.
They all filed in. Michael smiled at them. "So, this is a little hiccup in our plans, I know."
Jim shook his head. "What's really going on?"
Michael sighed. He threw his hands up in the air and mustered as much enthusiasm as he could. "April Fool's! There's no trip!"
Their eyes widened and their mouths dropped open.
Pam shook her head. "It's May," she snapped.
Michael nodded. "I know. This was the mother of all April Fool's Day pranks. It lasted a whole month."
Jim's jaw tightened. "How could you do this? We changed our plans for this. We've been excited for a month. Angela spent five hundred dollars on Celine tickets."
Michael raised his eyebrows and looked at Angela, who was glaring at him. "Wow, five hundred? I thought it was three. That's gotta suck."
Stanley sighed. "Jim's right. We changed our plans for this."
"No harm done. It's only Friday. You can still keep your weekend plans."
"I told my daughter I wasn't going to her dance recital," Stanley said.
"Well, that's your issue."
Creed shook his head. "I told my son I was going to miss his college graduation."
Michael shrugged. "I'm thinking you weren't in the running for the Father of the Year Award anyway." He paused and then shook his head. "You all set your priorities. You can't put that on me."
Dwight held up two garment bags. "Michael, I bought us awesome suits to wear on our nights on the town. They're 'Miami Vice' copies. They ladies would have loved them."
Michael's nose crinkled in disgust. "What is wrong with you?"
Dwight dropped his head and lowered his arms.
Jim shook his head. "You've done a lot of terrible things to us, but this may be the worst."
"Where are you senses of humor?"
They all shook their heads and began to file out.
Michael's eyes widened. "Where are you guys going? You need to sign me out. I have to be released into your custody. Guys? Guys!"
He continued to call, as the door closed behind them.
Michael smiled and bobbed his head, as he looked at Mr. Fineman and Fred. "Oh, I get it. Did you guys put them up to this? Okay, you got me! Good one."
Fred shook his head. "Nah, we didn't put them up to it. I think they just hate you. You do seem like a pretty crappy boss."
With that, Fred and Mr. Fineman grabbed him by the arms.
"Where are we going?"
"We'll have to hold you until we can get someone to come pick you up."
"Hold me? Hold me where? Are you taking me to airport jail?"
---
Michael folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. "It wasn't the worst three days I've ever had. I mean, once I explained the whole thing to Jan she came to pick me up. She was busy so she couldn't come right away, which I understand. But, really, it wasn't that bad. I got to rest. You know, recharge the old batteries. Did a little reading. The food was actually pretty good. Who doesn't like salisbury steak? And my cellmate was a joy. I told him about the prank and he loved it. He's a prankster himself. He was there because security didn't see the humor in putting a fake bomb in his carry-on." Michael shrugged his shoulders. "We're all different. We all find different things funny. Comedy is subjective. I think 'Kangaroo Jack' is hilarious, but I'm sure there are people out there who would disagree. That's what makes this country so great. You are free to like 'Kangaroo Jack' or dislike it. That makes me proud. That makes me happy to call myself an American."
---------------------------------------------------THE END-------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it and please let us know what you thought. -Steph