I think I'm going to start getting more experimental with this one in the next few chapters. For now, more of the same!

7. Roy Chooses His Best Man

It had been the weekend after Roy had finally given Pam the ring. She had gone to her parents to celebrate and Roy had taken the opportunity to have a night out with Darryl and his brother. It was a full evening, which ended with Roy more than a little wasted, which was to be expected since the three of them didn't get together to discuss Lacanian precepts over a pot of Earl Grey.

Somewhere around the third case of Mickey's Big Mouth, the subject of who ought to be the best man came up. Roy, not the most decisive of men under in any scenario, was both at a loss. He had gotten more emotional than either man was used to with drink and had taken them down to the muddy field where he had met Darryl and scored so many of his high school glories.

"You guys are my best friends..." he nearly sobbed. "Kenny, since I was born, you've always looked out for me..." he then threw an arm around each men"...and Darryl, who got me my job, introduced me to Pam..." This last was a half-truth, but Darryl wasn't about to in the mood to correct him. "I can't decide."

For a moment, he let the question hang in the air, as if hoping for divine intervention.

Then he was struck with an idea so brilliant, he swore his prayers had been answered.

"Whoever gets this beer back to me first," he stated Solomon-like as he rested a single bottle of beer in the mud between them, "gets to be the best man."

He moved what he felt was a proper distance away from them, then shouted "go!"

They faced each other like sumo wrestlers, but neither man made a move.

"Are we really doing this?" Kenny mumbled, soft enough so Roy couldn't hear.

"I'm not," Darryl replied decisively.

Kenny shared his sentiments, but "it's really important to Roy."

Darryl raised an eyebrow. "You think he's going to remember this tomorrow?"

Kenny looked down at the muddy Molsen at their feet. This did not seem like a good idea. "I don't..."

"I am not doing this," Darryl repeated.

Kenny nodded. "But then who gets to be best man?"

Darryl thought for a moment, then capitulated. "You're his brother... the job's yours."

"You're his best friend," Kenny pointed out.

Darryl scratched his beard. "You guys are pretty tight..."

"But you were the one who..." at this point they were interrupted by a loud "thhhh... pok" sound, which they both turned to face.

After thinking for a second, Darryl had an idea. "Who ever can pull him out of that thing gets to be best man."

Kenny nodded. That seemed fair enough.

----

Mindy: Girls, when you're tired of going to the same restaurants or hanging out with the same people, let your boyfriend know, but don't use the words "I think we should try something different."

Pause.

Mindy: ...Because he's always going to think you mean something else.

She shakes her head.

Mindy: And you do not want to have that conversation with him.

The More You Know...

8. Because Everyone Loves Kandy...

Andy: Karen and me...

Nods suggestively.

Andy: We've got a groovy thing going, baby. It happened in Stamford...

Pause.

Andy: Nearly.

Pause.

Andy: Almost. And it will happen in Scranton.

He points his fingers at the camera like a pistol.

Andy: Just you watch.

----

The office was in semi-darkness and everyone else had gone home, but Karen was determined to finish these orders now rather than have them hanging over her head the whole weekend. Really, she could have been done hours ago if Andy had just had the uncharacteristic good taste to call in sick that day.

"So," he asked, hovering over her like a gnat. "got anything nasty brewing for the weekend?"

She did not let herself stop working, that would only encourage him and that was the last thing you wanted to do with Andy. "Maybe you should just go home, Andy."

"Come on," Andy hissed in a way he clearly intended to be seductive, "I know you want some Kandy."

This made Karen stop. "What?" she asked in confused disgust.

"Kandy," Andy explained lamely, "you know, Karen-Andy..."

"Oh," Karen 'oh-ed' as she resumed typing and ignoring Andy's advances. "You know I'm with Jim, right?"

Andy snorted in contempt. "But who can settle for Tuna when the menu offers a taste of real pork?" Andy sneered as he slowly removed the jacket from his suit.

Karen rolled her eyes inwardly. She had learned to express most emotions inwardly since meeting Andy, since he seemed to take absolutely any reaction as a green light for further attentions. Best to pretend he's not there at all.

Of course, Andy made this impossible with his next action. He slowly swept around Karen's desk and sat right down on it. Karen could tell he was again attempting to be incredibly smooth in his execution, but he fell short when he placed his rear directly onto the keyboard. Even as he spoke, it kept beeping from under him.

"Listen," Andy said with slow confidence, "we both know there was something between us back in Stamford."

Karen mentally took a deep breath.

"Neither of us was willing to say anything about it," he nodded with complete certainty, "but we both knew it was there."

There had been times in Stamford when Karen had wondered if Andy's brain really worked the way he presented it to the outside world, but she gave up that line thought seconds later in utter horror.

"Now you've followed me to Scranton," he smiled wider and wider until his head looked like a commode. "I think we both know why."

"Hey," Jim warmly called from the doorway, "are you ready to go?"

Karen nodded. "I was trying to get these orders finished, but I guess it can wait until Monday."

Jim looked at her sternly. "Are you about that? The number two guy of the branch has to okay every one of those and... I hear he's a real hard-ass."

Karen smiled wickedly as she put on her coat and walked over to join him. "I think I can negotiate with him."

Jim laughed and embraced her, killing the last remaining light with a hand.

"Night, Andy," Jim called, almost an after-thought.

Then they were gone, the door shut behind them, and never the embrace broken.

For a while Andy sat there, motionless and alone in the dark, still sitting on Karen's keyboard.

"Night, Tuna."

----

B.J.: If you're at a party and "Sweet Home Alabama" starts playing, ask yourself: am I from Alabama?

Dramatic pause.

B.J.: Have I ever been to Alabama?

Another pause.

B.J.: If you answer "no" to both those questions... maybe you shouldn't start singing along.

He shakes his head dramatically.

B.J.: Because everyone is going to make fun of you.

The More You Know...