Michael: Part 2office_michaelJanuary 17 2007, 21:11:01 UTC
((Continued from the previous post))
"Noooooooow I'd like to answer the given debate questions, because inquiring minds want to know." He reached into his jacket and pulled a piece of paper out. Unfolding it, he straightened up and began, "Okay, first, how will I make Slytherin a better place? EASy. More comedy. Slytherin will be an all-comedy-all-the-time house! We'll have Improv Mondays and Knock-Knock Joke Thursdays! And if you're not funny, you'll have to sleep outside." He paused, and his face took on a more serious expression. "Unless you're a minority, in which case you can stay, but only if you attempt to learn jokes about your own race." After another pause, he added, "And we'll put a Hooters in the common room."
That question dispensed with, he went on, "Two. Someone has written a song about me, and what's the title of that song? The title of that song iiiii~iiiis 'Michael Scott...Is Hilarious and the Best Boss Ever, and I Promise to Be His Friend, Because He Is Hilarious'." The edges of Michael's mouth twitched a few times, and he glanced out at the audience, hoping to see lots of people nodding in agreement and/or pumping their fists.
"Three. My favorite style of hat iiiiiis...the ones with those hands on top. You know which ones I mean? You pull this string that hangs down from the top of the hat, and then the hands clap." He grinned widely, cocking his head slightly. "They're SO funny."
"So. Question five. QUEStion cinco. Lucky number five! Who is my hero and why? My hero is...Todd Packer. Because he once did a set of twins, and because he's got the BEST sense of humor." After a pause, he added, "Also, Martin Luther King, because he's black. And because he has a lot of streets named after him, even though they're all in the ghetto."
Okay, by this point, Michael was POSITIVE everyone had already made up their minds to vote for him, but it was still a good idea to cover all his bases. So, he went on.
"Numero six. My favorite fabric. Ummmmm...the fabric of my Levis, I guess. Thaaaaaaat's why I dry clean 'em!" He looked around and smiled, waiting for a favorable reaction as usual.
"Neeeeeeeeeext! Next question! My thoughts on leather trousers are...that...they'd look pretty good on Ryan." Michael paused and looked up, as if imagining what this might look like. A faint smile curved the corners of his lips upward. Yay creepy mancrush!
Snapping out of it, he blinked and looked down at his list again. "Aaaaaaaaaand last question! What weapon would I use to bring about world peace? Oh, COME on, that's OBvious." He paused to add a bit of suspense anyway. "COMedy! Because COMedy can be a deadly weapon in the hands of someone not funny. But in MY hands, it's a peacemaker."
Crumbling the paper and tossing it over his shoulder, Michael grinned widely and clasped his hands together in front of himself. "Soooo~oooooo...I'm sure you've all alREADy decided to vote for me, but I'll take questions anyway."
He stood there and waited in case anyone wanted to ask him something.
So she's not Slytherin. But this man is so incredibly weird it's making her forget her angst. Good thing.
'How old are you, exactly?' she asks, wondering if a small and thick child got themselves body-switched. 'Do you want to go back to bed? Shall I get someone to tuck you in?'
'...Yes, that is what I said,' says Mel warily, hands glowing very softly, trying to figure out if the man's crazy or not.
'Jesus Chri--Forty-two? Forty-TWO and you're acting like this? What on earth is wrong with you?' she yells suddenly, pissed off with him for... being like David Brent.
"No, no, no, that's what SHE said. Not you. It's - it's...." Michael was dumbfounded. How could anyone not get that joke?! Well, there was one way....
"You wouldn't happen to be related to Toby Flenderson, would you?" He was the only person Michael knew who was completely devoid of a sense of humor.
"I know - people tell me I look younger all the time," he added proudly, his hands on his hips. Yeah, he completely missed the insult. He was quite skilled at that. "I think it's the soap I use. It's the CVS house brand. They make great stuff." CVS was also where he got his Night Swept cologne. Hey, it smelled just like Drakkar, but was several times cheaper!
((If someone ever apped David Brent, I would love them forever. Finally, Michael would have a true friend...or would he be a fierce competitor? >_> ))
'Do you know what? I'm a really shitty mood. Act your age, not your shoe size! My God, you don't have a portrait in the attic! Oh, and by the way? You smell of unwashed dog.'
You can see the steam blowing off.
'I'm not related to that guy. I'm not really related to anyone. I'm dead.'
Mel's own answer back.totallyluminousJanuary 18 2007, 01:38:33 UTC
Mel flashes a glare. Light is actually sparking about her hair.
'You would think that, wouldn't you? You're the sort of closeminded prick that would. No. My problem is not that of the female menstrual cycle--I do hope I'm making you uncomfortable--but something a hell of a lot more serious, something that your mind could probably never understand.'
She's well aware she's acting up herself, but the guy's a bloody idiot.
Michael continues to lose his dignityoffice_michaelJanuary 18 2007, 01:51:43 UTC
Michael's first instinct was to think, "Wow, B-I-T-C-H!", but then his ears perked up at Mel's mention of having a serious problem.
"Yoooooooou are very lucky, because I~~~ am a trained mediator!" Well, okay, not trained, but he had a three-ring binder with information on mediation! He grinned brightly at her. "What's the problem? I'm sure we can find a win-win-win-win solution!"
And Mel continues to get angrytotallyluminousJanuary 18 2007, 01:58:17 UTC
'OK: first, my boyfriend, who I have a literal cosmic connection with, turned evil. He tried to hurt me on several occasions. Now he's back to normal, but I can't face him. Second: I think I may have helped put a man into a coma. Third: I'm getting really tired of being dead. I miss my family, and I'm meant to be the sort of angel who looks like this--'
Michael had been listening to Mel with a concerned expression on his face when suddenly she turned into this gorgeous, HOT wingy thing, and everything she had said was completely gone from his mind. Holy shit! His eyes widened, and he was completely dumbfounded...
...until she said she was thirteen. THIRTEEN! Yiiiiiiiiiiiikes! Michael may have called himself "littlekidlover" on the online dating service, and he may have been endowed with a veritable wealth of shortcomings, but he was not a pedophile.
He continued to stare for a while after Mel was done, and then he offered up the only thing he could think of - a sort of sympathy gesture, to show that he understood where she was coming from, that he had once felt such despair in his life.
"Hey man, it HURT! I even had to go to the hospital!" Well, that was because Dwight had had a concussion, but to Michael it still counted.
His eyes widened a little bit at Mel's edgy tone, but overall, he was nonplussed. After all, he had to work with Angela on a daily basis. "Yeah, one more thing: Don't forget to vote for me! And come to my strobe light party! I'm going to hold it very soon!" He grinned smarmily at Mel.
"That's an urban legend!" Michael called after Mel. "Just like pop rocks and Coke!" He had no idea who Jonas de Winter was, but it didn't matter, really. As long as she wasn't referencing Toby, it was all goooooooooood.
"Noooooooow I'd like to answer the given debate questions, because inquiring minds want to know." He reached into his jacket and pulled a piece of paper out. Unfolding it, he straightened up and began, "Okay, first, how will I make Slytherin a better place? EASy. More comedy. Slytherin will be an all-comedy-all-the-time house! We'll have Improv Mondays and Knock-Knock Joke Thursdays! And if you're not funny, you'll have to sleep outside." He paused, and his face took on a more serious expression. "Unless you're a minority, in which case you can stay, but only if you attempt to learn jokes about your own race." After another pause, he added, "And we'll put a Hooters in the common room."
That question dispensed with, he went on, "Two. Someone has written a song about me, and what's the title of that song? The title of that song iiiii~iiiis 'Michael Scott...Is Hilarious and the Best Boss Ever, and I Promise to Be His Friend, Because He Is Hilarious'." The edges of Michael's mouth twitched a few times, and he glanced out at the audience, hoping to see lots of people nodding in agreement and/or pumping their fists.
"Three. My favorite style of hat iiiiiis...the ones with those hands on top. You know which ones I mean? You pull this string that hangs down from the top of the hat, and then the hands clap." He grinned widely, cocking his head slightly. "They're SO funny."
The next question was more of a problem. "No one would kick my ass. See, I used to run with a very tough crowd, street fighter types. Real, real bad people. I'm just lucky I got out." He nodded solemnly, and then a triumphant expression spread across his face. "But I did kick Dwight's ass in his dojo! Ha!" He would never let Dwight live that one down!
"So. Question five. QUEStion cinco. Lucky number five! Who is my hero and why? My hero is...Todd Packer. Because he once did a set of twins, and because he's got the BEST sense of humor." After a pause, he added, "Also, Martin Luther King, because he's black. And because he has a lot of streets named after him, even though they're all in the ghetto."
Okay, by this point, Michael was POSITIVE everyone had already made up their minds to vote for him, but it was still a good idea to cover all his bases. So, he went on.
"Numero six. My favorite fabric. Ummmmm...the fabric of my Levis, I guess. Thaaaaaaat's why I dry clean 'em!" He looked around and smiled, waiting for a favorable reaction as usual.
"Neeeeeeeeeext! Next question! My thoughts on leather trousers are...that...they'd look pretty good on Ryan." Michael paused and looked up, as if imagining what this might look like. A faint smile curved the corners of his lips upward. Yay creepy mancrush!
Snapping out of it, he blinked and looked down at his list again. "Aaaaaaaaaand last question! What weapon would I use to bring about world peace? Oh, COME on, that's OBvious." He paused to add a bit of suspense anyway. "COMedy! Because COMedy can be a deadly weapon in the hands of someone not funny. But in MY hands, it's a peacemaker."
Crumbling the paper and tossing it over his shoulder, Michael grinned widely and clasped his hands together in front of himself. "Soooo~oooooo...I'm sure you've all alREADy decided to vote for me, but I'll take questions anyway."
He stood there and waited in case anyone wanted to ask him something.
Reply
'How old are you, exactly?' she asks, wondering if a small and thick child got themselves body-switched. 'Do you want to go back to bed? Shall I get someone to tuck you in?'
Mel's so not on the ball.
Reply
He reveled in his hilarity for a moment, laughing to himself so hard that the only sound which came out was a ragged wheezing noise.
Finally, after regaining some control, he said soberly, "Forty-two."
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'Jesus Chri--Forty-two? Forty-TWO and you're acting like this? What on earth is wrong with you?' she yells suddenly, pissed off with him for... being like David Brent.
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"You wouldn't happen to be related to Toby Flenderson, would you?" He was the only person Michael knew who was completely devoid of a sense of humor.
"I know - people tell me I look younger all the time," he added proudly, his hands on his hips. Yeah, he completely missed the insult. He was quite skilled at that. "I think it's the soap I use. It's the CVS house brand. They make great stuff." CVS was also where he got his Night Swept cologne. Hey, it smelled just like Drakkar, but was several times cheaper!
((If someone ever apped David Brent, I would love them forever. Finally, Michael would have a true friend...or would he be a fierce competitor? >_> ))
Reply
'Do you know what? I'm a really shitty mood. Act your age, not your shoe size! My God, you don't have a portrait in the attic! Oh, and by the way? You smell of unwashed dog.'
You can see the steam blowing off.
'I'm not related to that guy. I'm not really related to anyone. I'm dead.'
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'You would think that, wouldn't you? You're the sort of closeminded prick that would. No. My problem is not that of the female menstrual cycle--I do hope I'm making you uncomfortable--but something a hell of a lot more serious, something that your mind could probably never understand.'
She's well aware she's acting up herself, but the guy's a bloody idiot.
Reply
"Yoooooooou are very lucky, because I~~~ am a trained mediator!" Well, okay, not trained, but he had a three-ring binder with information on mediation! He grinned brightly at her. "What's the problem? I'm sure we can find a win-win-win-win solution!"
Reply
Second: I think I may have helped put a man into a coma.
Third: I'm getting really tired of being dead. I miss my family, and I'm meant to be the sort of angel who looks like this--'
(Mel briefly changes into this)
'--when all I really want to be is plain old Mel Beeby, thirteen, going to Park Road school and not having died.'
She's an angel, and she's mistaken. If it were granted, she'd be lonelier than ever.
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...until she said she was thirteen. THIRTEEN! Yiiiiiiiiiiiikes! Michael may have called himself "littlekidlover" on the online dating service, and he may have been endowed with a veritable wealth of shortcomings, but he was not a pedophile.
He continued to stare for a while after Mel was done, and then he offered up the only thing he could think of - a sort of sympathy gesture, to show that he understood where she was coming from, that he had once felt such despair in his life.
"I once burned my foot on a George Foreman grill."
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Mel doesn't know it, but she may soon be in line for a birthday. Her eighteenth. Gotta love angelic timelines.
'Anything else?' she snaps.
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His eyes widened a little bit at Mel's edgy tone, but overall, he was nonplussed. After all, he had to work with Angela on a daily basis. "Yeah, one more thing: Don't forget to vote for me! And come to my strobe light party! I'm going to hold it very soon!" He grinned smarmily at Mel.
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Oooh, BURN.
Git. Berk. Twit. Wanker. Mel calls Michael all of these things and more in her mind, before Helix pops out.
Apologise right this SECOND, angel girl. So you've had a tough time. Get over it.
Maybe later. For now, she glares like a cat and stalks away, angriness radiating off her like a warped halo.
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"Quick, do you know any jokes about noseless dwarves?"
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