First: Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry this took forever. School seriously was taking over and I had major writers block!*
Well hello there! What a pleasant surprise to see you here (haha, I don't know what I'm doing)! Anyway, here's the next chapter right here and let me just tell you right now, I have no idea if my story will be finished here or if there will be another chapter (in all honesty, I think it will finish here, but really, we'll just have to see). So please enjoy thoroughly while you can. Disclaimer: I don't own The Office, ya hear me FanFiction! Just saying, but if I did, I wouldn't mind dropping myself in the story at one point *wink, wink, hint, hint*.
Michael's Dundy Day
"Alright, listen up you maggots!" Dwight hollered through the office, fists connected to his hips. "I am going to be inspecting you in order to get this birthday thing over with. No questions asked. No objections. To the ladies, to a circumstance I may just need to violate your intimate areas. I know how you woman think!"
The ladies were indeed revolted by this- the whole office was annoyed with this extreme- but to some, it wouldn't really matter if they knew exactly how to get around Dwight and avoid the situation completely. Angela flickered her eyebrows upward at this notion when Dwight approached the accountants' section of the Office.
"Alright people," he started off, whipping out a notepad and dotting the tip of his pencil to his tongue to write. "You're going to need to tell me your designated year of birth, month, day, and phase of the moon. (Oscar batted an irritated eyelash.) If by any chance you may know whose birthday it is, you must confess righthand or else things will get ugly. Kevin!"
Kevin jumped at the sound of his name and gulped. Without waiting for an answer (and giving an obvious eye roll.), Dwight proceeded with the question, "when's your birthday."
"Oh, um... I didn't expect the questions to roll out-"
"I just told you I was going to be asking you questions-"
"But if you need to know... my birthday is..." Dwight knew it shouldn't have surprised him, but it did when Kevin's brain turned off and he trailed away from the subject with a thick cascade of drool oozing from his lower lip. Dwight attempted to not twitch an eyebrow, but he was ready to curse when Kevin seemed to be mocking him when he started shoveling m&m's in his mouth, all while still sporting that ignoramus expression.
"You know what, you're too stupid to answer the question, so it's not you," he finally acted up and penciled down "idiot" under Kevin's name (secretly wishing to write something more diabolical for his nimrod facade). Dwight then sprinted away from Kevin's desk and stopped to a mild trot when coming to Angela. She lifted an intriguing eyebrow and swiveled her chair towards him, folding her hands over her lap and tugging a grin. "Hello Angela," he greeted, refraining from a smile. This was business, not flirting.
Angela's face flickered in the thing he was battling with dread the most. Flirtation... or she was just being a smart aleck. "You should know the date of my birth, Dwight... seeing what we've been through."
Dwight swallowed a thin strand of saliva, crunching his fist around his detective supplies and managed to keep an emotionless face. "I'm sorry, I've seemed to have forgotten," he replied monotonously.
Angela opened her mouth in what little dejection she produced and proceeded to tell him her birthday. As he wrote it all down (occasionally glancing back at her small figure.), Angela smoothed out her skirt, flipping her hair to the side and tried again. "Dwight, would you really ever think it was me?"
His eyes shot up, over his notepad and he processed the question speedily. He lowered the notepad away from his lips and smiled. A quivering set of teeth that formed awkwardly to want to say his inner most feelings. "Possibly. The quiet ones are usually overlooked, when in fact, they could very well robbed a bank and even murder a royal duchess."
Not the response she wanted, so Angela cocked her head to the side, biting her lip to stop herself from growing red in fury and turned back to her work. Whatever... now let's see, I have to calculate compound interest... DANG IT DWIGHT!
Dwight finally moved 90 degrees to meet Oscar's turn, but annoyance was buzzing around him like a hanging disease. Oscar pressed his dark fingers to his forehead and sighed exasperatedly, "I'm not doing this!"
Before the cameras could even take a breath, Dwight dug his bare hands into Oscar's collar and yanked him upward, having Oscar gasping and kicking in fear. "What the heck man?" Oscar cried and Dwight only furrowed his brows until his bluish-gray eyes hid under.
"Tell me the date, because this is only going to get worse!"
"You know I can report you for office abuse, right?" Oscar threatened and kicked his legs. Dwight merely scoffed.
"Please, I didn't actually attack you. Am I pressing a knife to your jugular area? No. Do I even have any weapons with me?" Dwight spat at him and he jerked his arm out. Suddenly, a collection of miniature knives flew out of his sleeve, actually piercing the carpeted floor and standing up right. Oscar's eyes grew wide in pure shock and Dwight swore under his breath, dropping Oscar back to his chair and scuffling to the weapons.
Dwight shoved them in his pockets carefully and swerved to the accountants, "you guys didn't see anything!" With that, he zipped into the kitchen (bypassing their terrified, but mostly disgusted looks.), flying by the small hallway and entering the annex with a blast of air.
Just as Dwight swung away from the office-goers, Andy poked his head around the corner, snickering mischievously as his opportunity became so wide open. "Alright, competition is gone, time to put my salesmen and persuading skills to the test," he explained to himself and the camera, bobbing his shoulders in every encouraging chuckle.
"What competition?" Andy hitched his shoulders, a large grunt escaping his lips and a creaking in his neck as he looked down at the bright-eyed, cheery red-head with the curiosity.
Andy rubbed his knuckles, knowing only one thing to do in a private situation as this. Andy smiled broadly until his cheeks ached, "hey Erin, I'm just doing some detective work, so you don't need to worry about it."
"Detective work? I thought Dwight was already doing that," she shot back aimlessly and Andy bobbed his head, acknowledging her as if she was a little child.
"Yes, but Dwight isn't as nearly as good as I am. I'm super sneaky and pretty good at weaseling my way through people's knowledge," Andy told her slowly and her eyes twinkled in fascination. Suddenly, Andy's longing words caught in his throat and he leaned back and massaged his knuckles. "Um, I don't suppose you'd like to help me, would you?"
Erin's grin twitched lightly and she brushed a lock of her auburn hair aside, "oh, I can't. Michael has entrusted me in helping him with the party and keeping him at a level head. (Andy's face was a seldom plain look and he jerked his head and strayed away.) Thanks anyway and good luck."
Quickly, she giggled and skipped back to the conference room and Andy was nearly lost in a daze, remembering only her bouncy attitude and her flowing, luscious locks. In the long run, that was a mistake as Jim bumped into him and snapped him back to reality.
"Whoa, hey Tuna," Andy mumbled and looked over at him, soaking in a long moment to realize Jim was swaying. "You should really watch where you're going."
"Whop, what? Oh, sorry Stanley..." Jim slurred back, unable to detach his curled hands from his blood-shot eyes.
Andy knitted his brows, "no, it's me, Tuna."
Jim attempted to widen his eyes, but blotchy marks of charred black flashed in his vision. He took the sayers word for it and yawned, "oh, sorry... so, any luck on whose the suspect?"
"Nope, but I'm definitely on it!" Andy scintillated with confidence, but with Jim's drifting gaze, his energy was sapped. "Hey, you okay? It seems like you've been playing so much you're loosing touch."
"NO I'M NOT, I'M JUST FINE!" His amplified voice startled Andy and Jim quickly muttered an apology and stumbled back to his desk. Pam curled a knowing hand on Jim's fist and he aggressively rummaged his hands through his hair. I'm not addicted!
Andy shook the distraction away, the impact of Dwight getting the lead leeching, and he sprinted full speed into the annex, just as Dwight was sneaking behind Kelly.
"Not so fast!" He blurted with his best detective impression. The two twisted their heads and Kelly released a shriek when seeing Dwight just behind her.
"Oh my gosh, why are you guys stalking me?!"
"I'm here to interrogate you," Dwight answered, shooting Andy a glare and jerking his shoulders, indicating the singing bafoon to back off. "Just me."
"Ew, why would I let you do that?" She spat back and Andy took this as an advantage.
"Exactly, why would someone like sweet Kelly talk to farmer boy, Dwight?" he nudged Dwight away and held out a protruding notebook with a readied pen, "now, just tell awesome Andy your birthday and who you think it may be."
"No, why would I tell you, either?" Andy twitched an eyebrow. Turns out Kelly naturally despises them both and their simple and sugary sweet tactics clearly wouldn't break through her stubborn exterior.
Dwight didn't seem to register that trick, though, so he forcefully pushed Andy aside and pushed his notebook to the bridge of her nose. "Just tell me you filthy Hindu or this will go on your permanent record, like your jail report."
Kelly was almost pushed to the brink of tears and she did the only thing she could think off. "Screw off you freaking beet eating creep!" She stomped on his toe while also slipping in a sharp kick to the shin (ramming in her high heel, no less.) and she hopped away from her working space as he doubled in grunting pain. "You guys can be real idiots sometimes!"
Andy stared in shock at this whole scene and waved his hands frantically in panic, "Kelly stop! Just tell us what you know and we won't bother you anymore!"
The rise and fall of her chest was swiftly exchanged with a fluttering in her heart and Kelly blushed and turned coy, "really? Um, well... he probably wouldn't want to admit it himself, but it's Ryan's birthday."
The two detectives' eyes glimmered with the lead and they excitedly thanked Kelly (though Dwight's feelings upon the violent act turned him sour.) and skipped out to meet Ryan.
"What?! Is Kelly going around telling people it's my birthday?" Ryan questioned rather peevishly and he clapped his hands together, taking large breaths. The cameras didn't even need to pose questions with his tone. He's clearly telling the truth. "It's not my birthday, that's like in sixth months. She's probably only saying that because she wants to be silly and cute, it's just-"
The cameras couldn't understand why Ryan was blowing up so much about this. It was just a silly mistake or a childish wish, so what's up. Is he secretly lying. He definitely isn't one to be going around, informing everyone of his birthday. Maybe Kelly is right.
"Screw this meeting, forget all about the birthday and please don't bother me!" were his last words and he steamed out of the conference room without the permission. Wow, he even acts like her some times.
"Erin... Erin... Erin," Michael's leg was fidgeting ferociously as he sat on a plastic chair in the corner of the party room, patently growing insane. He cracked his knuckles over a fist crumpling with chips and Michael was ready to blow up. "Erin. Erin. Erin, oh gah!"
Erin hastily ran over to Michael's side timidly, afraid he would strike her, "sorry, I was going through some other paperwork, then I was having a really stressful conversation with Kelly about this assault she had or something, and then-"
Michael shot up like a rocket to his feet, scattering the chip fragments on the carpeted floor, "Erin, I-I don't think I can take it any longer, I need to find out the name of the person. I'm going insane!"
Erin, seeing the blotchy redness and panic in his eyes, bowed her head in comprehension, "don't worry, I got Jim to compile a list of potential people, I'll go get him for you."
With that, Erin ran off to Jim, ignoring the startling reaction and objection to return to his game. She shoved Jim softly into the party room and slipped inside, to the side so their conversation would center to the two.
Michael nibbled at his thumb nail nervously, "do you have the list of people?"
"What?!" Jim snapped back, then retraced his steps and apologized, "sorry... yeah, I think I do."
Jim fiddled with his back pocket, having an immense feeling of winging-it and yawned when he had it in his hand. "Here," Jim handed over the slip, rubbing his eyes for both suggestive intuition, and the wishy-washy feeling coming over his muscles from playing the game the entire time.
Michael opened up the folded parchment and nearly swore aloud when he saw the articles on it. He cleared his throat and said in a leveled voice, "this is a list of the scores you got on all of the computer games you played."
"Oh, sorry," he blurted numbly and fumbled with taking back the parchment. He reached back into his pocket again as Michael gave him a striking stink eye and took the paper as soon as Jim extended it to him.
The paper was folded open, the fear and annoyance of seeing blank weaving in Michael's features. To his appeasing, the list had a few names that added some procession to the story. "Kevin, Ryan, Kelly, wow, I'm surprised you've got some," Michael enthused giddily while Jim displayed a weak grin (truthfully, Pam had made that list when Jim was so distracted from the games. Clearly, he owed her big time).
"Yup..." he croaked back, "you know it."
"Great, great, all we need to do now is- OH CRAP!" Michael leaped from his seat after examining the clock in the room. Jim and Erin snapped their necks as he hurried out the room, shoving the paper into his women pants' pocket. "The cake store is going to close soon and if we don't have a cake, then there's no party!"
"But Michael, you still don't know whose-," Erin protested softly, but Michael zipped by her.
"That's okay!" Michael left the party room with Jim and Erin jogging behind and Michael stopped to touch on the workers' attention one last minute. "Listen up everyone! I'm going to go to the bakery with the little options I have for the birthday party."
"But Michael-" they all piped up in an unusually squeaky voice.
He thrusted his arms out energetically, while his face showed otherwise, panting in panic, "I've got it in control, but just in case, Erin, do me a quick favor and officially go through the birthday documents and history."
"Wow, you didn't think about doing that before?" Jim murmured blandly in a low voice as Erin complied and scampered off to the receptionist desk.
Michael looked back at his workers when his mind flickered with things he needed in preparation. "Before I get going, I'm going to need some things and then I want a few of you to come help me," Michael looped his arm around Jim's suddenly, "Jimmy will be one of my guys!"
"I'll go, too," Pam insisted and walked up to Michael. She couldn't leave Jim in his transfixed state with Michael, who was going off his rocker.
"So will I!" Dwight declared and sprung to his manager. He twisted to the others with his arms folded, giving Andy a sly eye in particular, "I'm going to be the detective to crack the case."
No one else volunteered at that point and Michael slapped his hands together, "cool! We've got our dream team, now hold on, let me get my man purse and we'll get going."
Without a word, Michael ran out of the room and the volunteers shifted on their legs until he returned.
Erin typed away on the computer, in search of birthday files in Dunder Mifflin, when Andy decided to make a move in disguise of weaseling. He slipped before her desk and rested his arm on top. "Hey. I don't think I've interviewed you yet," he explained cooly. He tapped his fingers over the desk as Erin lifted her eyes sweetly under her redish bangs. "It doesn't happen to be your birthday today, does it?"
"No, I would've said something so Michael would be calm," she told him quickly, not noticing Andy's flicker of annoyance for her affections towards Michael. She intertwined her fingers together and giggled softly, "besides, I love birthday parties... you would remember if it was my birthday, though... right?"
Andy bent his head back, holding a neutral face, "'course I would... for my favorite girl!"
Erin cracked a side smile, but resumed to typing. Andy huffed a sigh, stretching out his arms further down the desk as Erin's display of feelings for him aren't showing in a loving way. Plus, he couldn't think of an excuse to say to keep talking. He was easily growing awkward and hopeless. "Um... so do you-"
"Come on guys, let's go!" Michael hollered when he returned and Andy slumped back to his seat while the participants dragged themselves behind Michael. They filed quickly out of the building, climbing into Michael's car and he snapped the ignition to life and drove off speedy quick.
The moment Michael swerved his car out to the empty streets, Pam had an unsettling feeling churning in her stomach. "Um, Michael, is everything all under control?" She asked him nervously.
Michael's knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the wheels and said nothing to her question.
Pam wandered her eyes around the others in the car. They didn't seem to be as nervous or aware of the risky driving Michael was doing and Pam shifted in her seat. She also looked out at the foggy covered windows. Small rain droplets slowly rolled down it. Everything was slowly turning astray. That once enlightening feeling that welled in her stubborn body had shriveled hollow and cold, leaving her completely apprehensive.
Michael hurriedly drove the car at his favorite pastry store, parking it abruptly and ordering the co-workers to exit to the building. They ruffled under his chaotic actions and followed him hesitantly into the building. The door swung open with a blast of air followed by a light tinging noise above and Michael marched up to the cashier guy.
"Excuse me!" He started off very loudly and the cashier man jumped.
Pam reacted in a break-neck speed and clutched Michael's arm to reel back his sanity, "Michael, is everything okay? I'm afraid you're starting to lose it with birthday panic."
"I'm fine Pam, why would you even ask that... silly head," Michael tapped her nose and turned back to the cashier manager.
Pam's face contorted in slight worry and she turned back to Dwight and Jim, staying clear of one another with distasteful expressions. "Are you guys beginning to get the feeling it's no longer a dundy day?" She asked them with a shaky voice, trying not to look behind at the quiet Michael.
"Of course not," Dwight replied, arrogantly, "it's never been a dundy day because there is no such word as "dundy". If you wanted a real accurate estimation of the day, I would say it's calm with rolling clouds, but looming with drizzle and gray skies."
Pam rolled her eyes. Suddenly, Jim dropped his gaze on her, his hands jittery, "hey, you don't suppose you've got a game on your phone do you?"
She took out her phone and stared down at the apps, "yeah, but you have a phone, too."
"Yeah, but I can't use it, I burned up the playing limits with our bill!"
Pam sighed exasperatedly while he flailed his arms. "Okay, fine, here-" she said levelly, then abruptly recoiled. "Wait... you went over our bill?!"
"Yeah thanks!" Jim snatched the phone from her and quickly opened a game of Angry Birds.
Dwight eyed Pam, disgusted with Jim's unhealthy, disheveled habit, "sad when you marry a man whose sights are only centered on mind-washing games."
Pam stared at him up and down, ready to protest- or to just comment- but then Michael raised his voice. In fact, he began shouting!
"WHAT?! YOU DON'T HAVE ANY CAKE FOR ME?!"
Pam -with Dwight just behind- skidded over to Michael, sensing the bad tension already. "Um, Michael, is everything okay?" She asked him shakily.
Michael glared back at Pam. "This meanie gentlemen refuses to give me some cake," Michael explained hotly, extending out his arm at the frustrated cashier sir.
"Look, you have to order ahead of time before you come and grab a cake," the cashier man explained himself dully, furrowing his eyes in a frown in Michael's direction.
"Um, um," Pam stuttered, looking back at the two glaring, furious men. "Can't you just make a teeny exception and let him buy a cake now."
"Look ma'ma, you can't-"
"Please! Its been a long day!"
The cashier guy bent back, appearing intimidated or rather uncomfortable with his costumers, but finally caving in to relieve the tension. "What would you like to order?"
Michael took a moment to sift through what he desired in his mind (inhaling out his thoughts loudly, though) and struck out his hands in a mildly excited action, "a big, fancy cake with flavors of all kind... um, probably layered really big, because, hey, bigger is neater."
"It's better," Jim corrected behind the haze of Pam's iPhone.
"Yeah I don't care," he jeered back.
Dwight suddenly stepped in before the cashier guy could breathe a word, "cancel that order. You don't know if this certain person likes the flavor or size he is suggesting."
Michael shot a glare of annoyance in Dwight's direction, so Pam intervened, "just get an ordinary cake, please."
The cashier lolled his head like a rad doll, penciling down their order in a sloppy scrawl of writing, "do you want anything written on it?"
Michael hesitated, as he still didn't know, "uhh, uh, well yeah, of course."
Pam eyed him nervously. She wasn't sure what direction Michael could go, being all high-strung and what not.
"Write..." Michael puffed out his lips in thought, staring down intently at the fine craftsmanship of the check-out desk.
After not being able to take this much longer, Dwight slapped his hands on the desk firmly, "just write 'happy birthday'. It's as simple as that."
"No! That's not special enough!" Michael protested back, eyes clamped shut like a child, "it needs to be something better, like, 'happy birthday, may all your wishes come true... ' uhh, umm, the name of the person..."
"It's indefinite!" Pam piped up loudly, shaking at the pounding rain outside the store.
"Ma'ma, you have to have a name on the birthday cake," The cashier man's voice was slowly rising, as Dwight could tell.
"Just don't put anything on it, we'll figure it out later!" Pam told the peeved off man and Michael spun on the balls of his feet to her.
"Take it and pay the man, Michael!"
Michael grunted nosily, then stood erect on the spot, shuddering. "Um, that's 20 dollars, sir," he heard the man's voice echo in his ear.
"Oh um, money, that's," he mumbled and Pam rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, pay him."
Michael clapped his hands together. "You know what, I've seem to have forgotten my wallet, so I'll just- no Pam, don't!" Pam had sighed exasperatedly and reached for the bulging wallet in his back pocket and shuffled through the contents.
Pam stopped as she got to the dollars, shocked blankly. She pulled a few out, "you carry play money in your wallet?"
"It's so people don't think I'm poor, okay!" Michael snapped back.
"But you are," Jim commented, tucking Pam's phone in his pocket. The heavy rain storm outside had started interfering with his internet connectivity.
Pam bit her lip, "um, okay, maybe I can pay for it or something-"
"So, man," they hadn't noticed as the cashier guy bent down and pulled out a large, chocolate square cake, "this is like the only one we have left."
Michael stared down at the lacy pink frosted words, his blood soon boiling: "Sorry I slept with your mom (She was no piece of cake, though ;) )."
Michael had burned his eyes on the vulgar lettering for an uncomfortable amount of time, building the scare-factor that no one would have anticipated due to Michael's gleefulness earlier. Michael clenched his fists and shook on the spot, everyone waiting to hear his thoughts and that's when he blew up.
"I'm not going to take this!" He blurted out loudly, snapping everyone's attention (even Jim's). Michael slammed his hands over the plastic case of the cake to the counter, his face steamed red. "Really, you think this is a joke? 'Sorry I slept with your mom?' is not funny for this moment! It is someone's important day at my work place and this is the delicious crap you give me?!"
The cashier guy practically had no emotion- as the drawl day had sapped him of energy -but did seem to cringe back. Michael was barking loudly, even overpowering the thundering weather outside and got to the point where he crawled on the counter top and Dwight wrung his arms around him.
"I've had it up to here man!" Michael motioned violently, attempting to crush his fingers in the man's throat, but could never reach him as Dwight yanked him back. Some how, Michael groped the inappropriate cake box and a wild twinkle flickered in his dilated eyes. He looked to the others, "let's go!"
The others stole confused and worried glances and the next thing they new, they were running after Michael as he was sprinting through the rain. "Michael! Michael!" They called out urgently, but the rain was roaring over their voices.
Michael hopped on one leg at a time, running faster and faster towards his car when suddenly, he slipped under the runny street and face planted to the ground. The pressure popped the cake lid open and Michael's face was sunk deep in chocolate frosting.
Pam, Dwight and Jim stopped before Michael. He wasn't moving, but he was alive. He was just ashamed. The three glanced at each other, not knowing what else to protest until they eventually picked Michael up - he held the soggy cake close, possibly to soak up his muffled sobbing - and drove back to the office.
"Hey Erin, I got it," Andy called to the receptionist and jogged over. He held out a bulky file between his fingers, but he didn't bare a smile. "I thoroughly sifted through the files I collected from the office goers, and... it's just not anyone's birthday."
Erin pouted, "um, well I did find the actual birthday documents for our office and I should be getting it..."
Suddenly, the door swung open but the entrance of the remaining employees was slow and painstaking. Everyone turned their eyes to Pam, Jim, and Dwight who were aiding Michael through the office, bits of frosting and cake clinging to his face and the actual cake held loosely in Pam's hands.
"Oh my goodness, Michael what happened?" Phyllis asked worriedly and Michael winced.
"Oh... nothing... we just had a run in with this cake guy who refused to cooperate so I stole the best/worst cake he had and accidentally smashed my face in it... in the rain," His voice was runny and shaky from the incident and his shoulders were locked to his neck.
Everyone in the office couldn't unglue their sights on the scene. This was one of the worst crises Michael has ever been wrapped in and they were all silent. Pam, Dwight, and Jim all looked Michael up and down for another time, feeling incredibly bad for him.
"So..." Michael dropped his hands to his side, a smile crooked on his messy features, "what's the news?"
Andy hesitated for a moment, not wanting to disappoint Michael further, but he had to answer, "I've gone over every single individual in this building, checking everything, and... it's no one's birthday here."
Michael's face was at first stoney, but then his jaw unhinged in an insane laugh, "why should I believe you? I entrusted all of this in Erin. Erin, what did you get?"
Erin bit her lip under Michael's buggy eyes and peered at the computer screen. It had a name! Erin responded, but timidly, "um, looks like it says here, um... Tony Gardner."
Everyone cocked their heads to the side. Michael furrowed his brows, the heat of anger already boiling, and he questioned, "who?"
"I don't know, it's just what it says-"
"Wait! Tony Gardner!" Andy snapped his fingers as he remembered aloud. "He was one of the employees from Stamford."
"Wait, that over weight guy who Michael embarrassed when he tried to haul him to his chair?" Dwight inquired and Andy nodded with a confident, "yes."
Some of the employees bobbed their head in comprehension, but no one fully took in the feelings Michael was getting as he realized he fired that employee years ago. Michael crunched his fists, the blood flow stopped. "WHAT?!" Everyone snapped their heads in his direction and Erin shrunk. "You mean to tell me I wasted my whole day-"
"Michael, please calm down," Pam ushered him nervously.
"NO! I spent your paychecks on loser birthday supplies, fought with a stupid cashier cake guy, and smashed my face in a cake that talked about making love to a mother!" Groans of disgust and pity were momentarily shared in the room and Michael sucked in his lips, feeling more aggravated, "and you guys didn't help me at all! This was very important to me and you didn't even care!"
They were all silent. He was, obviously right, but should they feel scolded? Pam lowered her lids sadly and tried to touch his shoulder in support, but Michael shook violently. Pam gasped. She could have sworn, but she would never believe, she saw Michael cry a little.
"I-I'm done with this, I-I quit," Michael rushed out of the room, hiding his face and blocking out protest, but there was no remarks. The whole room was silent and everyone was thrown in a damper. Dwight, Jim, and Pam felt the worst out of all of them (as they were closer to Michael.) and gloomily glimpsed at one another.
This certainly isn't a dundy day...
Wheew, I finally finished the chapter! I apologize for taking possibly three months with this chapter. I had trouble building to the end of the chapter, but I finally got there. There will be one more chapter to this story and I will be done with Michael's Dundy Day and will very likely not write another Office Story until 2013. Well, I hoped you like this climatic and sort of dramatic section of the story (and sorry it's long. It's serious business, it had to be). Please, please read and review!