Dwight Schrute came awake with a start. He was naked except for a film of butter and salt on his skin, and he was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded on all sides by kernels of popcorn encased in glass cases
( Read more... )
Dwight didn't know this person either, but he gave the question due consideration. "No," he snarled, glaring off at the camera. "I think the culprit was very human. But if I'm wrong and it was a magpie, I'll shoot it. Dead. With my trusty crossbow. And then have it for dinner." Because he was nothing if not resourceful.
"Um, I'm a vegetarian, ok? So, like, in respect for my boundaries and lifestyle choice-" Evan held his hand palm up and moved it in a circling motion, as if palm-painting the boundary itself, "-please refrain from talking about eating Tweety Bird. No matter how much the thieving little bitch deserves it."
Don't look at his junk don't look at his junk don't look at his junk. Fortunately, Saturday Strip Night at Celebrities trained him well. "Wait! So, did this human have a goatee? But not a real one, but one drawn on like a retard?"
A vegetarian. How come Dwight didn't know these things? That would probably make eating at Chilli's difficult, and Michael would have to be made aware of the fact so that they could all have a cultural appreciation day and eat vegetarian foods. Like beets, Dwight concluded, instantly feeling better about the idea.
At the man's other question, he shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't see whoever did it. But it would be just like them to draw on a fake goatee." Another intense stare as he silently, once more, vowed retribution.
Evan covered his eyes with his hands, having reached his breaking point. Fairly early, actually. "Ok, um... like, I know we're fellow victims, and we should have a support group where we cry and hold-" He was about to say hands, then thought better of it. "hold our feelings in like men and keep our naked fingers to ourselves, but this is just really... wrong outside of a dance club waving the rainbow flag at three in the morning!"
Fingers were actually often naked (except for in the winter), but Dwight's condition made even his fingers seem rather indecent. "Kay, you know what? This isn't working. Give me your glasses, so I can blur you if you won't blur yourself."
Dwight continued to stare. "My glasses?" he demanded, as if Evan had asked him to chop out his own kidney. "That won't be possible," he said in an eerily calm voice. "If I gave you my glasses, then whoever did this to me could do something else. Again. And I am never caught unprepared twice in a row."
"So, like, what's a row, then? Caught unprepared twice in a row by one person? Or, like, caught unprepared at nine, and then at 9:15? Or, like, if someone pokes your stomach, and then they poke your effing nose, which HURTS!?"
Evan knew much about being caught unprepared, many, many times in a row. It's kinda of hard to be prepared for being sent back to effing dinosaur times by some effing DEMON.
"Kay, I am fucking SICK of me and everyone around me getting effed with! It's not just me anymore, it's perfectly harmless, stubby looking men! Who should NEVER be naked!"
Dwight had no idea what the guy was going on about. This was... happening rather frequently just now. "That language isn't appropriate for the workplace," he pointed out sourly.
"And using language that isn't appropriate for the workplace!" Evan called. "Who's with me!?" He didn't wait for Dwight's answer. He didn't count, he wasn't even wearing socks.
Dwight looked pained. "What about beets?" he asked weakly. "Surely they have beets in Scotland?" Not that he was convinced they were, in fact, in Scotland. He was just going along with the delusion so he could get some pants.
"No, I think there was, like, a famine and stuff, and that's why my family went to America. Like, a bajillion years ago, DAVID BLAINE, so this AIN'T a home-coming for me!" He looked up from the ceiling which he had just shouted to, and then back to Dwight.
He also made a strong effort not to look down.
Reply
Reply
Don't look at his junk don't look at his junk don't look at his junk. Fortunately, Saturday Strip Night at Celebrities trained him well. "Wait! So, did this human have a goatee? But not a real one, but one drawn on like a retard?"
Reply
At the man's other question, he shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't see whoever did it. But it would be just like them to draw on a fake goatee." Another intense stare as he silently, once more, vowed retribution.
Reply
Fingers were actually often naked (except for in the winter), but Dwight's condition made even his fingers seem rather indecent. "Kay, you know what? This isn't working. Give me your glasses, so I can blur you if you won't blur yourself."
Reply
Reply
Evan knew much about being caught unprepared, many, many times in a row. It's kinda of hard to be prepared for being sent back to effing dinosaur times by some effing DEMON.
"Kay, I am fucking SICK of me and everyone around me getting effed with! It's not just me anymore, it's perfectly harmless, stubby looking men! Who should NEVER be naked!"
Reply
Reply
"You are! Now let's get you some damn pants!"
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
He put a hand on his hips and pointed. "But we do have pants. I checked."
*Mun's Note: Many of these fine companies, activities, and/or products may in fact be found in Scotland. Evan is ignorant.
Reply
Reply
Well, the space above Dwight's head.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment