World's Best Boss is now Island's Best Boss. Mug Coming Soon from Spencer's
Darryl told Michael he lead a cushy, wimpy nerf life. The more Michael thought about it, and the longer he stood on the roof of the Dunder-Mifflin building, the more he thought maybe, just maybe Darryl was right.
Even if he wasn't, all the office workers and warehouse guys were gathered in the parking lot, staring up at him. And if it was one thing in life Michael Scott did not want to be, it was a disappointment. He would give them their show, even if it was now more of an autobiography than a work of fiction. He was a man of many talents that way - like Houdini or Tool Time Tim Taylor.
Maybe, Michael thought, he would just jump. Just end it all. Only not really, because the bouncy castle would break his fall and hopefully not crown him. His hair was not thick, luscious, and long enough to cover a goose egg on the old forehead.
"You have a lot of things to live for," Darryl called up from the parking lot, the bullhorn amplifying his voice.
"What do I have to live for?" Michael scrunched up his brow in confusion. He honestly couldn't think of anything, other than Filet-o-Fish sandwiches, and even now and again he got tired of them.
"Oh- come on, ma- What about Jan? Lovely, lovely Jan, man? It's goin' good, right?"
Only not so good, which was very confusing. One week things had been fanfreakingtastic and the next it was like he'd made a really stupid deal with the Banker. "It's complicated with Jan. I don't know where I stand or what I want. The sex isn't nearly as good as it used to be...."
"Mike, you're a very brave man. I mean it takes courage just to be you. Just to get out of bed every single day knowin' full well you gotta be you."
Michael could scarcely allow himself to believe what he'd heard. Darryl, big strong tough warehouse Daryl thought he was brave? Hesitantly (and hopefully), he asked, "You really mean that?"
"I couldn't do it. I ain't that strong and I ain't that brave."
Now this was more like it. But it would pay to sound a little tentative. Michael Scott knew interpersonal skills. "I'm braver than you?"
"Way braver. You're Braveheart, man."
Well, he was part Scottish. "I'm Braveheart. I am." Totally. He made a mental note to stop at CVS on his way home to aquire facepaint. If they had no face paint, Wet n' Wild lipstick would do the trick nicely. Tomorrow, he decided, he would boost the morale of the entire office by showing up with his face painted like Mel Gibson. Maybe he could even get a kilt for added effect. When he reached the ground, he would put Dwight on that immediately.
"Come on down, okay?"
"Okay." Definitely a kilt. Unless that was what Pam had got him. " Pam, I'm coming down to get my present." He hoped it was a kilt. Or a World's Best Boss t-shirt. He could wear it on Casual Friday with his jeans.
Note to self: Have Dwight pick up dry cleaning.
Michael walked toward the fire escape ladder, already imagining himself in his new t-shirt and jeans for casual Friday, Darryl's earlier 'nerfy life' insult long forgotten, water under the bridge and all that crap.
But when Michael got to the side of the building, the ladder sort of...disappeared. And, come to think of it, the building didn't seem as high as it was just a second ago.
Frowning, Michael leaned over the side and saw....no one. No office workers. No warehouse guys. No parking lot.
What he did see was a trampoline. A black and pink GIRLIE trampoline.
Suddenly really, really angry, he cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled. "DWIGHT, YOU IGNORANT SLUT! What happened to the BOUNCY CASTLE? You went over my helmet! I told you to put the trampoline in the baler and get the bouncy castle. So please explain WHY the bouncy castle is GONE and a trampoline is back. And not just any trampoline, but a BARBIE TRAMPOLINE?" Frustrated, he kicked the wall running around the roof of the building. This was followed by a string of curses, and then, "You know, just- just die, Dwight. Or something. Do something USEFUL."
But Dwight wasn't calling back to him.
Because no one was there to hear him.
Clearly he was being oppressed by SOMEONE. Corporate, maybe.
Scowling, he climbed up on the little wall and pounded his chest. "You can take away my Dunder-Mifflin employees and my parking lot and my bouncy castle but you canna take away my freeeeeedoooooooooooooooooooom!"
Even if he wasn't, all the office workers and warehouse guys were gathered in the parking lot, staring up at him. And if it was one thing in life Michael Scott did not want to be, it was a disappointment. He would give them their show, even if it was now more of an autobiography than a work of fiction. He was a man of many talents that way - like Houdini or Tool Time Tim Taylor.
Maybe, Michael thought, he would just jump. Just end it all. Only not really, because the bouncy castle would break his fall and hopefully not crown him. His hair was not thick, luscious, and long enough to cover a goose egg on the old forehead.
"You have a lot of things to live for," Darryl called up from the parking lot, the bullhorn amplifying his voice.
"What do I have to live for?" Michael scrunched up his brow in confusion. He honestly couldn't think of anything, other than Filet-o-Fish sandwiches, and even now and again he got tired of them.
"Oh- come on, ma- What about Jan? Lovely, lovely Jan, man? It's goin' good, right?"
Only not so good, which was very confusing. One week things had been fanfreakingtastic and the next it was like he'd made a really stupid deal with the Banker. "It's complicated with Jan. I don't know where I stand or what I want. The sex isn't nearly as good as it used to be...."
"Mike, you're a very brave man. I mean it takes courage just to be you. Just to get out of bed every single day knowin' full well you gotta be you."
Michael could scarcely allow himself to believe what he'd heard. Darryl, big strong tough warehouse Daryl thought he was brave? Hesitantly (and hopefully), he asked, "You really mean that?"
"I couldn't do it. I ain't that strong and I ain't that brave."
Now this was more like it. But it would pay to sound a little tentative. Michael Scott knew interpersonal skills. "I'm braver than you?"
"Way braver. You're Braveheart, man."
Well, he was part Scottish. "I'm Braveheart. I am." Totally. He made a mental note to stop at CVS on his way home to aquire facepaint. If they had no face paint, Wet n' Wild lipstick would do the trick nicely. Tomorrow, he decided, he would boost the morale of the entire office by showing up with his face painted like Mel Gibson. Maybe he could even get a kilt for added effect. When he reached the ground, he would put Dwight on that immediately.
"Come on down, okay?"
"Okay." Definitely a kilt. Unless that was what Pam had got him. " Pam, I'm coming down to get my present." He hoped it was a kilt. Or a World's Best Boss t-shirt. He could wear it on Casual Friday with his jeans.
Note to self: Have Dwight pick up dry cleaning.
Michael walked toward the fire escape ladder, already imagining himself in his new t-shirt and jeans for casual Friday, Darryl's earlier 'nerfy life' insult long forgotten, water under the bridge and all that crap.
But when Michael got to the side of the building, the ladder sort of...disappeared. And, come to think of it, the building didn't seem as high as it was just a second ago.
Frowning, Michael leaned over the side and saw....no one. No office workers. No warehouse guys. No parking lot.
What he did see was a trampoline. A black and pink GIRLIE trampoline.
Suddenly really, really angry, he cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled. "DWIGHT, YOU IGNORANT SLUT! What happened to the BOUNCY CASTLE? You went over my helmet! I told you to put the trampoline in the baler and get the bouncy castle. So please explain WHY the bouncy castle is GONE and a trampoline is back. And not just any trampoline, but a BARBIE TRAMPOLINE?" Frustrated, he kicked the wall running around the roof of the building. This was followed by a string of curses, and then, "You know, just- just die, Dwight. Or something. Do something USEFUL."
But Dwight wasn't calling back to him.
Because no one was there to hear him.
Clearly he was being oppressed by SOMEONE. Corporate, maybe.
Scowling, he climbed up on the little wall and pounded his chest. "You can take away my Dunder-Mifflin employees and my parking lot and my bouncy castle but you canna take away my freeeeeedoooooooooooooooooooom!"