Jim felt like Johnny Depp in 21 Jump Street.

Which is to say, how Johnny Depp would feel if he tried to play that role now... a problem only made worse by the fact almost no one else in the room would get the reference..

"Hey, Andy," Jim cautioned, "don't you think these girls a little young for you?"

Andy shrugged. "They're older than the Madonna was when she gave birth to our Lord and Savior... and if the Virgin Mother isn't good enough for you, it's time to lower your standards, Tuna," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I didn't know you were religious," Jim said, genuinely surprised.

"Baby, I'm whatever I have to be to get the job done," Andy blasted back.

At which point, Jim could merely jim.

Jim had been hanging around with Andy for the past few nights... which bespoke well to his level of desperation. After a few hours of mild pleasantries with people from various walks of the vast field of paper supplies, the two of them hit the streets, cruising (with ever-increasingly lack of discrimination) the various bars and clubs around the area, all in the name of Andy's eternal search for what he affectionately referred to as "The Kitty."

Now, here it was, just past ten in the morning in a warehouse full of kids half Jim's age... which, again, only served to make him feel like the world's oldest man.

The DJ (who kept announcing himself as "Slush Panties," at one point goingso far as too play a theme song explaining the name) set down another track and Jim felt his insides twinge.

"Ohmygod, I love this song," Andy announced and proceeded to sing along. "I'm horny all night long-I'm horny all night long-I'm horny all night long..."

It was then that Jim saw how far he'd really fallen.

"Hey, Andy, I think I'm going back to the convention," he said. "John Stewart's giving his keynote address in a few minutes and I should really be there for that."

"John Stewart?" Andy repeated, clearly lost. "The talk show host or the Green Lantern?"

"The client," Jim emphasized, "...the head of Quebecor Printing." Which, of course meant Jim had absolutely no interest in hearing his speech, but he somehow had even less interest in hearing Andy sing about how randy he was feeling.

"Yeah, whatever," Andy shrugged indifferently, turning his attention to the girl nearest him and offering her his hand. "Robin Roxbury."

"Uh, Blithe Fratelli," the girl improvised.

"Hi," Andy smiled a special serial killer smile that was all his own. "I don't know if you've heard, but they're giving out free samples of me."

The girl nodded, giving him an indulgent smile. "So, who's your friend?" she asked, indicated the rapidly disappearing Jim.

"Who?" Andy asked. "The Tuna?"

"Yeah," the girl nodded again. "He's cute."

"Yeah, but you're wasting your time on him," Andy confided. "Les-bi-an," he sang.

The girl nodded agreeably, then went off to vanish into the horizon. Andy didn't seem to notice and merely turned his attentions to another girl.

"Excuse me," he said, "I can't help but notice you're not having sex with me."

----

Jim, frankly astounded: I have spent the last four nights hanging out with Andy.

Pause.

Jim: I knew he was Andy and I still hung out with him.

Pause.

Jim: I didn't even try to get out of it.

Pause.

Jim: Is there any sadder way to spend an evening?

----

In a scene almost too sad to commit to public viewing, Dwight is seen still in bed, completely motionless, while a foreign children's educational programs on the television.

"Goosio, Goosio, Goosio," sang the tiny, wooden, tie-wearing goose, his tune tragically herat-breaking.

It's incredibly painful to watch, but the camera just keeps right on rolling.

"Did you know I'm Goosio?"

And keeps rolling.

"Friend to Maltese children everywhere-io. Goosio, Goosio, Goosio."

----

This was his moment, Toby decided as he watched Pam rapidly typing away at her computer. This was his time to finally sweep Pam off her feet and prove to her the kind of man he could be. Every movement set with determination, he rose from his chair, straightened his tie, and summoned every last golden word to his throat, sure to win her over forever. He was mere inches away from her desk, when Michael rushed out of his office and pushed him aside angrily.

"Pam," Michael spat, "I just got a call from Jan," he informed her with a certain cold anger, "on my cell phone."

"Oh," Pam 'oh-ed,' turning her eyes to her ever-growing stack of Batman illustrations.

"She said she tried to call me here at 4:15 and she couldn't get through," Michael quietly reproached her.

"At 4:15 Creed was using to phone to play 'Funkytown,'" Pam explained simply.

"And then she tried again at 4:20," Michael continued bitterly.

"At 4:20 he switched to the Batman theme," Pam replied softly.

"Pam, the success of this office depends on everyone dedicating themselves completely to their job," Michael cautioned.

"Right," Pam agreed softly.

"Now, I've got to duck out early. Jan needs some ice cream," he explained. "Watch the store for me."

"Will do," Pam replied.

"So, Pam..." Toby began awkwardly, his momentum completely derailed.

"That's sexual harassment and she doesn't have to stand for it," Michael called back from the door.

Toby tried to defend himself, but was simply too bewildered.

"I'm a witness," Michael assured him. "You won't get away with this," he said, then killed all chance of arguing the point by closing the door behind him.

Feeling like nothing so much as a frightened bunny, Toby sank back to his desk in shame. Pam would have been the first to defend him, but all her attention was focused on the DC Comics submission guidelines page.

"Na-na na-na na-na na-na Batman," she sang softly.

----

Toby: It's my birthday today.

He takes a deep breath.

----

Despite the best of intentions, Jim made it as far as the lobby before he realized he simply couldn't make it through another day of pretending he cared about the crucial difference between 20 and 24 Pound Extra Bright Inkjet Paper and its relation to building customer loyalty. So, instead he found himself scrunched up on one of the plush-looking-yet-completely-uncomfortable lobby chairs, staring at his phone.

It seemed like a fair enough way to spend the day given the circumstances, and, while he knew the phone would never ring, he liked keeping an eye on it, just in case. Then, completely unexpectly, a miracle occured. Forty-five minutes into the third hour, the phone somehow developed a will of its own and, completely against his bidding, it began ringing up the same familiar number once again.

Predictably, she didn't pick up. But as he listened once again to the pre-recorded message that had been tattooed on his brain for longer than he could accept, he felt his throat loosen and, much to his own surprise, as soon as the "beep" went off he began to speak..

"Hi, it's me," he began. "I know you probably don't want to hear from me right now, but..." His voice caught for a second. Or maybe he just forgot what he wanted to say. "...I just called because I was thinking about, uh, Superman's eyes. You know, when I was a kid, I could accept everything about him but those eyes. I mean, he had x-ray vision, telescopic vision, heat vision..." he shrugged, then felt like an idiot when he realized she'd never be able to see it. "Somehow I had no problem with the fact that he could fly or punch through steel, but I could never really accept that his eyes could do all that..." he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously "...when I couldn't even see what was right in front of me." His phone picked that moment to beep at him. "Look, I gotta go, I got another call... I just wanted to tell you that. Bye."

Jim severed that connection and answered his in-coming call in one quick motion.

"He-e-ey, Tuna," Andy sang, "you missed a swinging party, buddy. I met a real nice couple of girls."

"What, from the club?" Jim asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, but feeling he had to ask.

"Nah, that didn't pan out," Andy admitted. "But I kept walking and few blocks down the street there were all these girls standing against a wall, just looking for a date."

Jim gave a jim-nod. "Is that what they said?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what they said" Andy agreed. "I thought it was kind of weird at first, but then I thought 'well, what's more important, where you meet the girl or what she's willing to do to you, am I right?'"

Jim felt a smile creeping across his lips. Maybe it made him a bad person, but he liked where this story was going.

"Anyway," Andy continued, more than a little confused by his own narrative, "they were really down for whatever, you know? I mean, I started talking to one girl and she kept suggesting I take a few of her friends along, which... hey, Tuna, you know the Big Dog, I wasn't about to say no."

"Of course not," Jim agreed.

"So, I had five or six girls with me and we were heading back to the hotel room... even though they seemed to really like the rental car for some reason," Andy narrated.

"Well, it is a Scion," Jim reminded him.

"True," Andy concurred. "But we were on our way to the hotel when suddenly this cop car pulls up and... all the girls ran for some reason."

"Maybe they were a gang of international jewel thieves," Jim suggested.

"Do you think so?" Andy asked, entranced by the possibility.

"Maybe," Jim granted.

"Dude, that would be so rad. Anyway, the cops charged me with something called 'soliticitation...' which I think involves sending out Spam or something... I can totally beat it... but," and here his voice got a little desperate for the first time, "do you think you could get all the money you have and meet me here at the jail?"

"Sure, absolutely," Jim readily agreed.

"Great," Andy nearly sighed.

"Oh, except..." Jim murmured.

"What?" Andy started.

"I've got maybe twenty-six dollars on me," Jim admitted.

"Oh."

"I could call your mom, though," Jim suggested.

"Um..."

"Or Corporate!" Jim offered. "I'm sure they'd be willing to bail you out."

"I don't know..."

"Don't worry, Andy, we'll take care of this," Jim assured him, promptly ending the conversation.

----

Andy, standing in front of a gray brick wall: Nah, jail's not that bad. I'm meeting a lot of new people.

Pause.

Andy: Please send help.

Tell m, party people, what's your Zodiac sign?