Scranton office, 1:00 pm
Conference room baby shower
David to interview camera:
"I tried talking Robin out of attending this shower, but she said we shouldn't turn away free baby items, since we're basically starting all over again. We'll see how grateful she feels in a couple hours."
Fortunately for David Wallace, he'd had ample practice donning a fake smile and people-pleasing manners in any situation. He'd tolerated rude investors, arrogant shareholders, and unreasonable coworkers for more years than he could count.
And today, in Dunder-Mifflin Scranton's conference room, he drew upon the sum total of those experiences to get him through that baby shower.
At surface level, the festivities seemed pleasant enough. There were the usual balloons and streamers, and the cake looked ordinary and appetizing. David was about to relax into his seat when something on the far wall caught his eye. Raising and lowering his glasses, he tried to get a better look, but there were too many people and balloons in the way.
"Those," Michael suddenly appeared next to him, making him jump, "are my homage to older celebrity moms. Starting on the left, you'll see there's a picture of Murphy Brown, then Octomom-"
"Octomom's not old, she's just insane," shouted Meredith.
"Senility counts as old!" Michael shouted back. "We also have the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, and lastly Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast. So you see Robin, you're in very good company!"
David turned to whisper in Robin's ear, "I tried to warn you."
"All right everyone, let's get this party started with some shower games!" announced Michael. "Angela, would you please pass out the paper and pens?"
"These ought to be good," Oscar nudged Kevin with his elbow.
Michael pulled a wad of index cards out of his pocket. "Okay, everyone do your best with these because whoever wins the most points gets three floating holidays next year!"
"We already get those," Angela whined.
"Well, just do your best anyway, because we all want to impress David Wallace and have tons of fun and festivities here today on his behalf," Michael rambled. "Now, it wouldn't be a baby shower without some good old-fashioned guessing games!"
"Like, how much will the baby weigh?" Kevin asked unenthusiastically.
"Nothing lame like that," Michael jeered. "No, instead we'll have 'Guess which genetic birth defect baby Wallace will be born with!'"
The shocked gasps that Michael was hoping for earlier that day finally happened. Robin looked seconds away from grabbing the cake knife and stabbing it into his neck.
"What? The odds go way up after age 35, and these two are way, way beyond that. I just wanted to prepare them for having a special needs child," Michael explained, confused by their aghast expressions.
"Unbelievable," muttered Jim. "That is a new record, even for Michael."
David gripped Robin's hand to keep her still. "While we… appreciate your concern, Michael, rest assured that all of Robin's tests and scans have come back completely normal."
"Doctors miss things," warned Michael. "Nobody told my Aunt Gertrude that her kid would be born with ears that stick out farther than tree branches. You've got to prepare for the worst."
"Michael, no one is going to play this game," Angela dropped her pad of paper in disgust.
"Fine, party-poopers, I have other ones. Let's see here," he rifled through the note cards. "How about, 'Guess how many cup sizes Robin will go up while breastfeeding?'"
A chorus of protest made him toss that card aside as well.
"Man, you people are hard to please! No more guessing games then. Everyone likes drinking games, though, right?"
There were a few murmurs of agreement.
Michael's confidence swiftly returned. "The rules are simple and straightforward: you take a shot every time you imagine David and Robin conceiving their baby."
Immediately, Creed and Meredith grabbed their own liquor bottles and began chugging at an alarming rate. David and Robin's faces turned violently red as they watched in horror.
Meredith to interview camera:
"Honestly, I wasn't thinking about the Wallaces. I couldn't care less. I just take any excuse someone gives me to drink."
Creed to interview camera:
"No, I can't say I'm a big fan of alcohol. Until today, I can't remember the last time I had any. Why do you ask?"
"No more games," Pam begged. "Can we move on, please? Isn't the gender reveal balloon next?"
"Yes, right you are! Kelly, would you please do us the honor?"
From beneath the table, Kelly pulled out a giant spherical balloon covered in question marks. Scanning the table for a pin, she found none, and decided to improvise with the cake knife.
"Don't forget the poem," Michael whispered to her.
Reluctantly, Kelly recited from a card tied to the balloon string: "Roses are red, violets are blue, at diaper changes, what will be peeing on you?"
Michael grinned in anticipation. "On the count of three, everybody: One – two – three!"
POP!
People half stood, peering intently as they jockeyed for the best line of sight.
"Can anyone see?"
"What color is the confetti?"
"Kelly, tell us what it is, we can't see anything."
Michael weaved his way over to the popping site. With hands in his pockets, he stared at the floor, lips pressed tightly.
"There's nothing," he observed flatly. "Kelly, why was that balloon empty?"
"Look, I'm sorry Michael. I tried calling the clinic to get Robin's ultrasound results, but they wouldn't give them to me. They said there's some health privacy thing called 'Hippo' or whatever," she explained to an indignant Michael. "I know! It sounded fishy to me, too."
"It wouldn't have done you any good anyway," Robin said smugly. "We told them not to scan for the gender. It's a surprise."
"Ugh, why is everyone working together to ruin this baby shower?" moaned Michael. "You know what, there's one thing nothing can ruin, and that's presents. So let's skip to the presents."
For a brief while, it looked as though the party could end on a redemptive note. The Wallaces received many thoughtful gifts, packaged in adorable bags and paper, and everyone seemed to be mentally distancing themselves from Michael's gaffes. When the last gift was opened without incident, they breathed a collective sigh of relief and enjoyed some cake at last.
Distracted by the cake, however, no one noticed Michael slip out of the room and return with a large, oddly-shaped present.
"Surprise!" he shattered the tranquility. "I saved the best for last!"
"Just when we thought we were in the clear," Stanley mumbled.
Shoving people out of his way, Michael ploughed over to David and Robin. "Here, open it!"
Robin folded her arms. "You do it," she ordered David.
The sound of wrapping paper tearing and crumpling seemed louder than normal, probably because everyone knew what it was even before David revealed:
"A wheelchair?!" his voice cracked.
Michael's face was in danger of breaking from his enormous grin. "Congratulations, Wallaces! We are all so happy for you."
"Wha – what – in – the world-?" David could hardly string together the words. "Why. Why?"
"You know, genetic birth defects," replied Michael matter-of-factly.
Everyone was out of shocked responses, so they just shoved more cake into their mouths.
Michael scowled at their lack of appreciation. "You'll thank me when baby Wallace is born with plagio-cephalitis, or a deviated septum, or baby eczema, all right? Just wait and see."
Michael to interview camera:
"You might look at this motorized pediatric mobility chair and say, 'Wow Michael, how could you possibly give more than you already have?' I'll tell you how. Nothing says 'Merry Christmas, David Wallace' like a remake of a classic Britney Spears song. Yes, I can guarantee tomorrow's Christmas gala will be an unforgettable night. Something truly special."