Author's notes: If I could be anyone in the world, I'd be Grant Morrison. Special thanks to the Capes... I can't believe I forgot how good an album "Hello" actually is.
part two.
Michael: Why am I doing this?
He smiles in a manner he'd hoped passed as "thoughtful outrospection."
Michael: In the end, I think everything comes down to love.
Dramatic pause.
Michael: I love each and every one of my employees, and it only makes sense that I should be all things to them. They need a father they can really rely trust; someone to claim them... someone to follow...
He nods wistfully, simultaneously trying to force a tear and keep from crying.
Michael: These people needs a better class of daddy, and I'm going to give it to them.
--
"Okay, next question," Jim began. "Angela's first love will always be her cats."
Andy nodded, which Dwight saw and instantly started trying to out-nod him.
Jim appreciated this silently for a moment before moving on. "Name three of them."
Faster than the human eye could follow, Dwight's hand shot straight up. "Question."
"Yes, Dwight?" Jim said.
"Are we only counting living cats or can I include the cat I murdered?" Dwight asked as though it were perfectly sane.
As could be expected, Jim was at a loss for words. As was Angela, though her face spoke volumes.
Pam noticed the camera behind her and gave it a wide-eyed stare.
--
Pam, trying desperately to convince herself: No, I think Jim's really helping the three of them.
Awkward pause.
Pam: I mean, he could certainly be making things worse.
There is a longish silence in which Pam tried to figure out exactly how.
Pam: ...He could have offered to cut Angela in half so they could both have one.
--
Andy: I call top half!
--
Dwight snickers in contempt.
Dwight: He's welcome to it.
--
With understandable reluctance, Pam picked up the phone and dialed the number Michael had given her. This could only end badly, she knew, but she could either help Michael in his insane adoption plot or deal with the fact that her boyfriend was currently hostng a game of Scatagories to decide the fate of the other key office relationship.
On the other end, they picked up on the first ring, which Pam couldn't help but resent slightly. "Yauch Investigations, this is Kate."
"Hi, this is Pam Beesly at Dunder Mifflin, calling on behalf of my employer Michael Scott," Pam employing her most business tone.
"Who can we help you, Pam?" the crisp business voice on other end reflected.
Pam gave a businessly smile, secretly knowing it could be felt on the other line. "Mr. Scott has a problem and he's interested in bringing Mr. Yauch in as a consultant on the matter. Could we be fit in some time today?"
"Absolutely, Pam," Kate replied with business-sweetness. "Could you tell us the nature of the problem over the phone or this something a little more sensitive?"
Pam thought for a moment. If she told the detective agency Michael's insane plot to adopt the company, they'd certainly refuse him outright... which in turn would cause Michael to assume the responsibility onto himself, with the worst possible consequences.
"No, I think this is definitely something that Michael would like to discuss face to face," she replied, smiling broadly.
--
Pam, proudly: I think at this point I understand how Michael thinks better than anyone else.
She slowly realizes what she's said and her face promptly plummets.
--
After a lunch date that left her more than satisfied and him enjoying a treasured moment of brief silence, Kelly bid Darryl farewell and left him to clean up his car.
It was a bright sunny day and she had a song in her heart (it was Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl," which was unfortunate for anyone in the immediate vicinity as she kept singing it. Very loudly); and Kelly Kapoor couldn't help but feel that her life was only going to get better from here.
She had barely turned the corner from the warehouse parking lot when she spotted the body.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" Kelly squealed in sheer terror.
Then, displaying an uncharacteristic inability to restrain her emotions, Kelly lurched over and was violently ill.
"Hrrucch..."
For a few seconds, she stood frozen, breathing heavy, nearly weeping, trying desperately to regain her footing on reality.
And then she realized the full extent of the horror.
"My shoes!"
--
Kelly: I'm not trying to be insensitive or anything, but these shoes went with everything and they weren't cheap.
Thoughtful pause.
Kelly: I wonder if I could sue the dead guy's family to pay for them.
--
Over lunch, Jim and Pam took a break from the respective quagmires to compare notes.
"So," Jim asked while trying to size up the most appetizing chunk of pineapple to impale with his fork, "Michael wants to adopt all of us because of a movie with Christian Bale?"
"Kristen Bell," Pam corrected.
Jim nodded in recognition. "That makes more sense."
Pam raised an eyebrow to her de facto fiance's obvious insanity. "This is going to be one of those things you have to explain to me."
Jim gave a slight shrug."I guess I just have hard time accepting Michael having a crush on Christian Bale."
"Sounds like someone hasn't since Dark Knight yet," Andy sang.
Everyone jumped in and had a nice, deep soak in the awkward.
"Uh, hi, Andy..." Jim trousered.
"Tuna," Andy 'clicked' his finger like a gun.
"Andy," Pam gave a short nod used largely for ceremonial purposes.
Andy gave Pam a forced manticore of a smile. "Hey there sports fan, mind if I talk something over with the Missus?"
Try as she might, Pam couldn't think of a reason why not. "Sure," she agreed, knowing full well she might be resigning Jim to certain doom.
He shot her a silent, bewildered plea not to be so abandoned, which Pam could only meet sadly...
Then turn and walk away.
And there was silence for a moment as Jim tried desperately to swallow himself in a last, mad attempt at escape.
"Hey," Jim offered lamely, "I know you guys are tied so far, but the next round is the 'Lightning Round,' so..."
Instantly, Jim felt incredibly stupid.
And then Andy said something Jim couldn't have predicted.
"I don't care about that, Tuna," he sighed.
Jim raised a cautious eyebrow. "Really?"
Andy shook his head. "The fact is, I don't even know if I want to be with Angela at all anymore."
And yet Jim still couldn't accept what he was hearing. "Really?"
Andy nodded. "I mean, I had to jump through all these hoops before she'd even go out with me," he reflected morosely. "Now I find out the love I thought I'd earned she was giving away for free."
And just like that, Jim realized Andy was a human being.
There was an awkward pause.
"Was that from a Lemonheads song?" Jim asked finally.
"Gin Blossoms," Andy corrected him.
Jim nodded slowly. "Right..."
"I only agreed to this stupid contest because I thought she'd tell me I didn't need to," Andy lamented. "Instead she's actually enjoying it! Who the fuck could do that?"
And there was such a horrible lack of venom in that question that Jim couldn't help but feel incredibly guilty.
"I don't know, Andy."
--
Jim stares at the camera.
Jim, very slowly: You know... sometimes I'm not sure how good... a human being I am.
He arcs his eyebrows sadly.
--
Andy, singing with complete passion and conviction: Whispers at the bus stop...
Andy lifts up his right hand to reveal a mobile phone.
Andy's phone, ditto: I heard about...
Andy lifts his left hand to reveal a second mobile phone.
Andy's other phone, likewise ditto: Nights out in the school yard...
Andy:I found out about...
Andy and both phones: ...you-ou. I found out about you...
--
It was a harder battle than usual trying to restrain himself, but somehow Michael managed to keep his mouth shut until all of his employees were seated in the conference room, but somehow he made it.
"Now," he began briskly and brusquely, "I'm sure you're all wondering why I called this meeting."
"Not even slightly," Stanley murbled.
Michael made a mental note to ground Stanley as soon as the paperwork went through. "There are two things I need to discuss with all of you," Michael rolled along. "First: I've noticing in your emails that a number of you think my Jessica Rabbit references are out of date."
He paused meaningfully.
"You are wrong," he declared declaratively.
Jim gave a jim-nod.
"I just didn't get the reference," Kelly said, which was promptly ignored.
"But more importantly," Michael said, somehow finding his way back on track, "I'm here to talk to all of you about the future."
"Question," Dwight raised a hand. "Does this in any way involve robots?"
"Why, you want to have sex with them, too?" Andy sniped snarkily.
Dwight, however, actually needed to consider this. "How believable would the vagina technology be?"
Jim's eyes widened in abject terror.
Michael realized this was an ideal moment to start cutting a more paternal role. "Andy, that kind of language stops now. All any of us has is each other."
One by one, each of his employees raised a compelling counterexample, all of which either completely failed to dissuade Michael or else would be negated by his next announcement.
Michael turned to embrace each of his employees as one. "You are here because the outside world rejects you. This is your family. I am your father and..."
"Michael," Pam called from the door. "The detective is here."
Michael clapped his hands together. "Good! Then we can get started."
The Detective was ushered in and Michael offered his hand. "Mr. Yauch, I'm glad you could make it."
Detective Yauch approached Michael with professional grade caution. "Mr. Scott, I'd like to speak to you privately for a moment."
Michael shook his head. "Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of my children."
The room shared a moment of awkward confusion.
Yauch realized he'd better cut right to the chase. "Look, I don't know what you've heard, but I can't help you cover up a criminal act," he insisted, his eyes never straying from the camera. "Certainly not one of that magnitude. I'm a legitimate licensed private investigator. I've already phoned the police and..."
"Wait," Michael butted in, more confused than usual, "what the hell are you talking about?"
And now it was the detective's turn to look confused. "The dead guy in the parking lot."
The entire room was awash with shock, except Phyllis, Creed, and Kelly, who merely looked incredibly guilty.
"Isn't that why you called me?" Yauch asked, baffled.
For his part, Michael turned fish-belly white, then very quickly added some little green in a failed attempt at coloration, before finally leaping into action. "Everybody to the parking lot," he ordered. "Pam, bring my poking stick."
--
Michael, defensively: I just want to make sure he's really dead.
