(no subject)
Title: By Any Other Name
Author: spamdilemma
Rating: PG
Spoilers: up to "Casino Night"
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands, and goes to work.
-- Carl Sandburg
Peronkey
Jim suggests starting a lexicon, at least between Pam and himself.
"It'll be designed according to our particular office lifestyle," he tells her. "In other words, regarding ordering paper, selling paper, discussing the different varieties of paper, paper folding (i.e. origami), paper maché, paper-assisted suicide - need I go on?"
"Jim, I feel that we should broaden our lexicon somewhat," Pam says.
"Pray tell, Miss Beesly," Jim says.
"Well, for starters, there should be a word that describes the dread of Monday mornings, as well as the sense of euphoria that Friday afternoons bring."
"Interesting," Jim says, nodding. "How do you feel about 'geezelpoop' and 'trimaya' - respectively, of course?"
"We'll probably need to write this down if we're going to run wild with vowels like that."
"Well, Pam, please put your receptionist skills to work because yes, we will run wild, with vowels, no less."
"Ooh, I thought of another one," Pam says, grabbing a notebook and pen. "You know that irritating feeling when something gets stuck in your shoe, like a small pebble? That is definitely something to add. I think it should start with a 'p,' in my namesake."
"Great stuff, Pam," Jim says. "I'm going to throw out... 'pamonkey'?"
Pam muffles a snort with her hand. "Jim, that sounds like something Michael would come in and call me. I'm sure we can improve on that. Let's stick in an 'e' and an 'r' for good measure."
"Peronkey?" Jim tries.
"Better," Pam says. "Oh, you know what else we should consider? That deranged look Dwight gets when his blood sugar level is low and -"
"Pam, please. Nothing Dwight-related should ever be noted in the lexicon, for it is a pure language. It is a language spoken only by the true at heart."
"Meaning us?" Pam asks, laughingly.
"Meaning us," Jim says.
---
Buck 'n roll
Darryl's barely in the door when Ingrid walks up to him scowling, though that's nothing new, and the source of her discontent isn't new either.
"Michael Scott just called. He wants a rematch for another basketball game."
Darryl rubs a hand over his face, glances at Roy, who sets down the box he's carrying. "There is something seriously wrong in the head with this guy. He can't seem to get enough of the public humiliation."
"Whatever," Roy snorts, "at least this way I'll get another shot at Halpert's sorry ass."
"Oh, no," Darryl says. "We have to take care of the new shipment that just came in, not waste another afternoon wiping the floor with a bunch of fools."
"So what're you going to do, man?" Roy asks.
"Hand me the phone, will you, Ingrid," Darryl says, shaking his head. He thrums his fingers along the wall, and waits.
"Mike? Yeah, this is Darryl from warehouse. You remember that new phrase I taught you the other week? Right, right, fleecing it out on your own, real smooth. Anyway, I got to thinking that I neglected to tell you one of the key elements to Ebonics: the buck 'n roll, man. It's essential to know in order to dink 'n flicka properly."
Roy laughs into his fist, and Ingrid's watching Darryl with the closest thing for her to a smile, and a small crowd of workers has gathered, rapt in attention. Darryl waves a hand at them all to shush.
"No, no," Darryl goes on, "you don't have to come down here. I have enough confidence in you to relate it over the phone. Now, buck 'n rolling is simple stuff, especially with how fast you're progressing. The first thing you have to understand is that the buck 'n roll is basically a code word for chilling. You buck 'n roll with your boys. You buck 'n roll with your girl. You buck 'n roll with your kids.
"Mike, I realize that you don't have any wife and kids. But you know what's his name - brother in sales? Yeah, Stanley. The next time you see Stanley, you ask if he's been buck 'n rolling with his wife and kid, and if he tells you no, you ride him hard on that, Michael. You make it clear to him, that so help it, you will buck 'n roll with his wife, then his child, and he will learn from your example. We've all got to reach out to one another in these troubled times, Michael. It'd be a shame if a man like Stanley wasn't in touch with his roots."
"So what's the verdict?" Roy asks after Darryl hangs up.
"I believe we've just bought ourselves a nice reprieve from Michael 'Extra Soft' Scott."
"All right, man," Roy says. "Although I was looking forward to another long weekend at the lake."
"I have a hunch the damage done to Michael will be far more lasting. You want to head up in ten? I think it'll be good for warehouse morale."
"Hey, I feel more productive already," Roy says, punching Darryl on the arm before hefting another standard issue Dunder-Mifflin box, everyone around him following in suit.
---
Kyan
Ryan wakes up and fumbles bleary-eyed through his medicine cabinet for a razor. When what he finds instead is a cache of tampons, he nearly screams - not as much in surprise, but in realization of what's happening. The Kelly invasion has begun, is in process, and he stalks down the hall with a Tampax Pearl in hand.
He finds Kelly still in her nightgown, sitting on the sofa and idly flipping through a magazine. She glances up at his step.
"Ryan! You're up early," she says, and pats the spot beside her. "So I was just reading about Brad and Angelina, and I got to thinking how maybe I was unfair to judge Brad. I mean, I thought he totally cheated on Jen, but you know, when true love comes along, what can you do? And all he really wanted was babies. And Angelina gave him that, all that and more."
She catches sight of the tampon still in Ryan's grip. "Oh, thanks, Ryan," Kelly says, "but it's not that time of the month. I'll put it in my purse, though." She takes it from him, and holds his hand in hers.
"Kelly," Ryan finally gets out, "I think that we, uh, should reevaluate our relationship. I mean, I'm glad that you're comfortable here, but I'm not exactly -"
Kelly brings their clasped hands to her chest and squeals. "Oh, Ryan," she says. "We're having The Talk. I am so excited that you're willing to bring this to the next level."
"Now, Kelly -"
"Yes, Ryan, now," Kelly says. "We're ready, and the world is ready. For Kyan."
"The... pepper," Ryan says slowly.
"No, silly," Kelly says. "It's our names combined, like Bennifer or Brangelina. Kyan is like the melding of our eternal love, and it's spelled like the cute guy on Queer Eye."
"Didn't Ben Affleck break up with Jennifer Lopez," Ryan points out.
"Duh," Kelly says. "And then he found himself a new and improved Jennifer, so it all worked out." She frowns after a moment. "You haven't met another Kelly, have you?"
"Oh, god, no," Ryan says.
"Well, good. Then it's settled." She bites her lip, almost coyly. "Do you want to know what else I was reading about?"
"What?" Ryan asks warily.
She looks down and smiles. "I can't show you that here, now can I?"
"Where can you -" Ryan starts to say. "Oh. Oh."
Kelly's in her nightgown still, and her hair's loose and pretty around her shoulders, and when she shuts up for a minute and simply smiles, Ryan doesn't so much mind the Kelly invasion.
"Meet me in your bedroom in five minutes," Kelly says softly, and as soon as she's out the room, he quickly flips to the index of her magazine.
---
Snickerdoodles
Dwight writes a note for Angela.
"Dear Angela," it reads, "Thank you so much for the gift for my cousin Mose, who is recuperating from a terrible beet planting accident. He loves cookies, and snickerdoodles are his favorite kind."
He makes the mistake of leaving it on his desk, within plain sight and reach of Jim, who snags it and shows it to Pam, who suggests taping it on the office fridge, where its full effect befalls Ryan mid-bite of his string cheese.
Angela leaves a note for Dwight: "Out of concern for your cousin's blood sugar levels, I am withholding cookies. Indefinitely."
Author: spamdilemma
Rating: PG
Spoilers: up to "Casino Night"
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands, and goes to work.
-- Carl Sandburg
Peronkey
Jim suggests starting a lexicon, at least between Pam and himself.
"It'll be designed according to our particular office lifestyle," he tells her. "In other words, regarding ordering paper, selling paper, discussing the different varieties of paper, paper folding (i.e. origami), paper maché, paper-assisted suicide - need I go on?"
"Jim, I feel that we should broaden our lexicon somewhat," Pam says.
"Pray tell, Miss Beesly," Jim says.
"Well, for starters, there should be a word that describes the dread of Monday mornings, as well as the sense of euphoria that Friday afternoons bring."
"Interesting," Jim says, nodding. "How do you feel about 'geezelpoop' and 'trimaya' - respectively, of course?"
"We'll probably need to write this down if we're going to run wild with vowels like that."
"Well, Pam, please put your receptionist skills to work because yes, we will run wild, with vowels, no less."
"Ooh, I thought of another one," Pam says, grabbing a notebook and pen. "You know that irritating feeling when something gets stuck in your shoe, like a small pebble? That is definitely something to add. I think it should start with a 'p,' in my namesake."
"Great stuff, Pam," Jim says. "I'm going to throw out... 'pamonkey'?"
Pam muffles a snort with her hand. "Jim, that sounds like something Michael would come in and call me. I'm sure we can improve on that. Let's stick in an 'e' and an 'r' for good measure."
"Peronkey?" Jim tries.
"Better," Pam says. "Oh, you know what else we should consider? That deranged look Dwight gets when his blood sugar level is low and -"
"Pam, please. Nothing Dwight-related should ever be noted in the lexicon, for it is a pure language. It is a language spoken only by the true at heart."
"Meaning us?" Pam asks, laughingly.
"Meaning us," Jim says.
---
Buck 'n roll
Darryl's barely in the door when Ingrid walks up to him scowling, though that's nothing new, and the source of her discontent isn't new either.
"Michael Scott just called. He wants a rematch for another basketball game."
Darryl rubs a hand over his face, glances at Roy, who sets down the box he's carrying. "There is something seriously wrong in the head with this guy. He can't seem to get enough of the public humiliation."
"Whatever," Roy snorts, "at least this way I'll get another shot at Halpert's sorry ass."
"Oh, no," Darryl says. "We have to take care of the new shipment that just came in, not waste another afternoon wiping the floor with a bunch of fools."
"So what're you going to do, man?" Roy asks.
"Hand me the phone, will you, Ingrid," Darryl says, shaking his head. He thrums his fingers along the wall, and waits.
"Mike? Yeah, this is Darryl from warehouse. You remember that new phrase I taught you the other week? Right, right, fleecing it out on your own, real smooth. Anyway, I got to thinking that I neglected to tell you one of the key elements to Ebonics: the buck 'n roll, man. It's essential to know in order to dink 'n flicka properly."
Roy laughs into his fist, and Ingrid's watching Darryl with the closest thing for her to a smile, and a small crowd of workers has gathered, rapt in attention. Darryl waves a hand at them all to shush.
"No, no," Darryl goes on, "you don't have to come down here. I have enough confidence in you to relate it over the phone. Now, buck 'n rolling is simple stuff, especially with how fast you're progressing. The first thing you have to understand is that the buck 'n roll is basically a code word for chilling. You buck 'n roll with your boys. You buck 'n roll with your girl. You buck 'n roll with your kids.
"Mike, I realize that you don't have any wife and kids. But you know what's his name - brother in sales? Yeah, Stanley. The next time you see Stanley, you ask if he's been buck 'n rolling with his wife and kid, and if he tells you no, you ride him hard on that, Michael. You make it clear to him, that so help it, you will buck 'n roll with his wife, then his child, and he will learn from your example. We've all got to reach out to one another in these troubled times, Michael. It'd be a shame if a man like Stanley wasn't in touch with his roots."
"So what's the verdict?" Roy asks after Darryl hangs up.
"I believe we've just bought ourselves a nice reprieve from Michael 'Extra Soft' Scott."
"All right, man," Roy says. "Although I was looking forward to another long weekend at the lake."
"I have a hunch the damage done to Michael will be far more lasting. You want to head up in ten? I think it'll be good for warehouse morale."
"Hey, I feel more productive already," Roy says, punching Darryl on the arm before hefting another standard issue Dunder-Mifflin box, everyone around him following in suit.
---
Kyan
Ryan wakes up and fumbles bleary-eyed through his medicine cabinet for a razor. When what he finds instead is a cache of tampons, he nearly screams - not as much in surprise, but in realization of what's happening. The Kelly invasion has begun, is in process, and he stalks down the hall with a Tampax Pearl in hand.
He finds Kelly still in her nightgown, sitting on the sofa and idly flipping through a magazine. She glances up at his step.
"Ryan! You're up early," she says, and pats the spot beside her. "So I was just reading about Brad and Angelina, and I got to thinking how maybe I was unfair to judge Brad. I mean, I thought he totally cheated on Jen, but you know, when true love comes along, what can you do? And all he really wanted was babies. And Angelina gave him that, all that and more."
She catches sight of the tampon still in Ryan's grip. "Oh, thanks, Ryan," Kelly says, "but it's not that time of the month. I'll put it in my purse, though." She takes it from him, and holds his hand in hers.
"Kelly," Ryan finally gets out, "I think that we, uh, should reevaluate our relationship. I mean, I'm glad that you're comfortable here, but I'm not exactly -"
Kelly brings their clasped hands to her chest and squeals. "Oh, Ryan," she says. "We're having The Talk. I am so excited that you're willing to bring this to the next level."
"Now, Kelly -"
"Yes, Ryan, now," Kelly says. "We're ready, and the world is ready. For Kyan."
"The... pepper," Ryan says slowly.
"No, silly," Kelly says. "It's our names combined, like Bennifer or Brangelina. Kyan is like the melding of our eternal love, and it's spelled like the cute guy on Queer Eye."
"Didn't Ben Affleck break up with Jennifer Lopez," Ryan points out.
"Duh," Kelly says. "And then he found himself a new and improved Jennifer, so it all worked out." She frowns after a moment. "You haven't met another Kelly, have you?"
"Oh, god, no," Ryan says.
"Well, good. Then it's settled." She bites her lip, almost coyly. "Do you want to know what else I was reading about?"
"What?" Ryan asks warily.
She looks down and smiles. "I can't show you that here, now can I?"
"Where can you -" Ryan starts to say. "Oh. Oh."
Kelly's in her nightgown still, and her hair's loose and pretty around her shoulders, and when she shuts up for a minute and simply smiles, Ryan doesn't so much mind the Kelly invasion.
"Meet me in your bedroom in five minutes," Kelly says softly, and as soon as she's out the room, he quickly flips to the index of her magazine.
---
Snickerdoodles
Dwight writes a note for Angela.
"Dear Angela," it reads, "Thank you so much for the gift for my cousin Mose, who is recuperating from a terrible beet planting accident. He loves cookies, and snickerdoodles are his favorite kind."
He makes the mistake of leaving it on his desk, within plain sight and reach of Jim, who snags it and shows it to Pam, who suggests taping it on the office fridge, where its full effect befalls Ryan mid-bite of his string cheese.
Angela leaves a note for Dwight: "Out of concern for your cousin's blood sugar levels, I am withholding cookies. Indefinitely."