Disclaimage: I don't own The Office, or any office for that matter. It'd be pretty cool if I did, but sadly, I'm officeless.
"I went out to the county sheriff's office and got this piece of paper tested for fingerprints and/or DNA," Dwight informs the camera, thrusting the ransom note right in the lens. "They wore gloves when they wrote it. As anyone would know, gloves do not show DNA or fingerprints.
"I wish they did."
"There's nowhere else we can look," Jim mutters, his elbows leaning on his desk with his chin cupped in his hands.
"I think I'm gonna die of starvation," Stanley says, walking over to the refrigerator in the break room. Michael gasps and runs as fast as he can, just barely managing to make his body spread-eagle out in front of the fridge door.
"You're not eating anything, Stanley!" he snaps.
"But this is technically our lunch break," Toby points out softly. "I mean, Michael, if you don't let Stanley eat his lunch, then—"
"Then what, Toby? You gonna report me to H.R.? Yeah? Well, you don't even deserve to be in on this expedition, sir! Why don't…why don't you go take a seat?"
Toby stands there, a little stunned.
"I know I probably looked kinda upset or stunned or whatever when Michael freaked out on me," Toby confesses, "but I'm pretty used to it, actually. I just didn't get enough sleep last night. Lost had its season finale, which ended at eleven, and then my friend Zack called. I mean, we had to discuss this thing." He pauses, his eyes darting around. "I, uh, don't tell Dwight I watch Lost, okay?"
The camera nods.
"Thanks."
"I'll take Toby's spot if he doesn't want to sit down," Stanley volunteers, strolling briskly towards Toby's desk. He collapses into the chair with a satisfied sigh. Everyone stares at him for a few seconds. He looks up.
"Go along," he tells them, flicking his hand nonchalantly. "I'll hold down the fort here."
Michael shakes his head, clearly disappointed. "Stanley, you'll never be a valued member of the Dunder Mifflin team with that attitude," he scolds. "C'mon, everyone. We're going down to the warehouse to try and get this figured out."
As the troupe begins their journey down to meet with the warehouse guys (and girl), Jim passes and gives Stanley a subtle high-five. Pam notices and grins slightly.
"Stanley," Jim muses. "Stanley can get out of anything. It's really pretty awesome."
"There's no Dunder Mifflin team for me to not be a valued member of," Stanley tells us. "I don't see any uniforms on anyone."
"He said that?" Jim asks of Stanley's comment. He chuckles a little. "That's true. Oh, God. This is gonna be good."
"Warehouse guys!" Michael yells, clapping his hands together eagerly. "We've got a bit of an emergency going on upstairs…"
"What, Mike, did somebody get hurt?" Darryl asks, handing the box he was carrying to Roy.
"We've got a missing person situation," Michael announces.
Jim rolls his eyes at Pam. Roy catches this bit of eye contact and feels threatened, as usual. He tosses Jim a stone-cold look. Jim gets the hint, but while biting the inside of his cheek, he manages to slip in a small grin.
"Who's missing, Michael?" Roy asks, putting an arm around Pam's shoulders. He's careful to nudge Jim out of the way, a little harder than necessary. "Oh, sorry about that, Halpert. Were you standin' here?"
Jim puts his hands up. "No," he answers. "Fine. I'm fine right here. Sure."
"Yeah…" Jim's voice trails off as his eyes avert from the camera. "Not too fine right there."
"Dwight is missing," Michael says loudly, his hands cupped around his mouth to make some extra annunciation.
"Dwight's right there, Michael," Kevin points out.
Michael turns to Kevin. "I know that, Kevin," he answers.
"Well then why'd you say he was missing?"
"I didn't say—"
"Uh, I think you did say that, Michael," Pam interrupts, holding up her index finger.
"Pam's the secretary, Michael; you've gotta believe her," Oscar tells him.
"Okay, okay, okay! Y'know what? Fine! Little Dwight is missing!"
Dwight holds out one of his homemade posters, circulates it around the room for about thirty seconds, then smacks it up on the wall.
"Pre-taped missing posters," Jim notices. He stands up and moves so close to the camera that all you can see is his face. "Better call Sixty Minutes or 48 Hours; this is the real deal."
It definitely took me forever to update this. I apologize to anybody who was reading this and who wanted to know anything else about if, if anyone did. I send you a cyber smiley named Bill : ) and hopefully he will make things okay!