Author Notes: I've come to the conclusion that the show needs Krazy!Karen. If she's sane then she makes the whole love triangle thing far too depressing for a comedy show. If she's nuts then pretty much anything can happen, and it's bound to be interesting.

A combination of computer problems, master's thesis, and hockey playoffs have conspired against me to result in very little reading or writing occuring. Coupled with my already inherent laziness, this may be the last you hear from me for a while (and there was much rejoicing).

"Hey," she said, as she let go of his arm in the parking lot. "I forgot something upstairs. Why don't you head home and I'll meet up with you there in a about half an hour?"

It bothered her, I mean seriously pissed her off just how quickly Jim agreed to that plan. It almost seemed like he just wasn't that into her. But that was preposterous. If Karen had a chick like Karen, she'd never let her out of her sight. (As confusing as that was, one of those helmet mounted bicycle mirrors would probably get the job done.)

He kissed her chastely, and that was a little disappointing too, before getting into his new Saab and driving off, barely even did he give her a little wave. Oh, there were problems, all right. Now all she had to do was take care of those problems. And a few minutes later, her problems appeared out the main door; problems named Pam.

"Hi Karen," she said, a little confused since she had definitely seen Jim and Karen leave together - of course she had, she was watching them ALL THE TIME. Bitch.

"Pam," Karen replied, her voice cold steel, and it sent shivers down Pam's spine. Oh yeah, she sounded badass.

"Um... is there anything I can do for you?" Pam asked, not liking the way this was going one bit.

And Karen smirked. "Yeah. You can stay the hell away from my boyfriend."

Pam sighed, deflated at having to have this argument when she'd really rather not. "Karen, it isn't that easy. Jim's been my best friend, like, forever. I'm not going to cut him out of my life just because you are, for some bizarre reason, insecure."

"Some bizarre reason? I see the way you're always watching him. Always glaring at me. You're a schemer, Pam, and you've got something up your sleeve," Karen sneered and tried to make herself big and imposing. She was still very short, though. "Sure, you play the sweet innocent little girl, but I know you. You're plotting to steal him away from me, aren't you? Steal him and kill me and dump me in a ditch someplace. Well, I got news for you, missy. That ain't gonna happen!"

Pam crinkled her brow in confusion. "What?"

"You heard me. And now I'm going to bust that nearly pretty face of yours in." And she let loose with a haymaker. Not a girly little slap at all, but nasty right that connected squarely with Pam's jaw and sent her staggering into the wall.

"How do you like that, bitch!" Karen yelled as she grabbed onto Pam's sweater and slammed her against the brick wall again.

"Ow! Get off me, you freak!" and Pam retaliated with a punch of her own into Karen's kidneys. Karen's a tough little gal, though (as a string of castrated ex-boyfriends can attest to), and the jab only made her madder (if such a thing was possible). She unleashed an onslaught of furious scratches and slaps at Pam's face, with a shout of "He's mine!"

Pam was reeling against the ropes, so to speak, and spat the blood from her mouth. "You don't deserve him, whore!"

"See how he'll like you after I'm done kicking your ass!" shouted Karen, as her subsequent blow drew blood from Pam's cheek. "When I'm finished with you, you'll be so deformed only Andy will look at you twice!"

The best thing about fighting against Pam: Lots and lots of hair to pull - with handy prefabricated loops to hold on to.

The worst thing about fighting against Karen: Despite certain rumours, kicking her in the groin didn't really do anything.

The instant Creed stepped out of the main doors of the Scranton Office Park, he could tell something was amiss. Sounds of violence - a struggle - not unlike 'Nam. His hearing strained as he tried to determine where it was coming from. It seemed to come from everywhere and he couldn't pinpoint the source as he looked around him. Finally his eyes fell on the fight... ten feet to the immediate right from where he was standing. Damned hearing loss. He wished he'd had a quieter drummer.1

The smile on his face lit up like a Christmas tree. The hot receptionist was fighting the hot new chick! This was almost as good as the foxy boxing they sometimes had at Pub Charles.2 Only they were actually hitting each other - and how! The receptionist just landed a solid uppercut to the new chick's chin that sent her head snapping back. And look how the jiggly bits jiggled!

He sat down on the hood of Dwayne's car to watch.

Pity they were both still fully clothed.

The latest flying tackle sent them both sprawling across the parking lot and crashing into a parked car. Her world spinning and stars bursting from behind her eyes, Karen lunged at Pam's neck, clawing at the cutesy wool neckline, and slamming her against one of the faded yellow lines that shows everyone where the cars go.

Pam managed to kick Karen off of her, preventing the enraged Italian from smashing her head into the asphalt again, before collapsing to the ground. Her left eye was swollen completely shut and her hair was matted with far too much blood (as opposed to far too little blood). Out of breath from their long fight and possibly concussed, she briefly passed out.

Disengaged from her rival, Karen crumpled, huffing and puffing, against the nearby car, blood trickling from her mouth and nose and a couple of scratches on her face and neck. And for some reason she smiled. "I think that was therapeutic," she said.

From her supine position on the pavement, Pam lifted her aching head to stare agape at Karen with her one good eye. "I think you're nuts."

Only after the fight ended did either of the combatants notice Creed approaching - in their adrenaline fueled haze, like a holy vision rising from a Trans Am. Creed started counting bills from a handful of singles he always kept in his wallet. He dropped the small wad of cash on top of injured Pam.

"Eight bucks?"

He handed another short stack of ones to Karen. "If you want a bigger tip you've got to show more skin," he said as he walked away (he couldn't remember where he parked).

It wasn't the most inappropriate thing anyone had ever said or done at the office, so the two women simply ignored him in favor of catching their breaths.

Later that night (at the hospital) Karen considered round 2.

(And Creed the bastard had only given her six dollars.)

1. When I started working at an auto plant a few years ago, they gave me a hearing test - one of those tone frequency/volume things like on that one scene from the Simpsons with Grampa and Jasper and the Crazy Old Man where they couldn't hear anything (which is what I imagine Creed must be like). I got perfect on the right ear and 3 clicks off of perfect on the left ear. They were really impressed with that. They were less impressed with my vision.

2. A real topless club in Scranton with a stage. The scary thing was how I found this out. I dare you to type 'scranton strip club' into Google. You'll realize how perverted (yet organized) guys can be. I don't know if they actually have foxy boxing there.