“Peoples!” Michael called out. “It is now the time that everyone has been waiting for… drum roll, pleaseeeee –"

Dwight made a “drum roll” sound with his lips.

“…Our annual Dunder-Mifflin Scranton dance-off contest! Yeah!!!”

“Yeah!” Dwight exclaimed.

“Now, let’s get it on! Come on Pam, Ryan, Angela, let’s get in the conference room! And, Stanley... I cannot wait to see some of your moves, ‘mon.”

“I am not dancing,” Stanley grumbled.

“Yes you are, or I will make you dance.”

Pam walked into the conference room, studying Dwight for any sign that he might have been behind this. He seemed extremely busy following Angela, and avoiding her gaze. Hmmm. Andy was already standing in the middle of the room doing the robot, and Jim was leaning against the wall, looking mildly surprised. Taking a deep breath, she walked over and settled into the chair beside him

“What are you grinning at, Beesly?” he asked as soon as she’d sat down.

“You’re not gonna go out there?” Pam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wow, are you?” he asked, tipping his head forward.

“Well, Dwight did take the time to teach me how to dance,” she said, glancing sideways waiting for his reaction.

“No way,” he said, shaking his head and smiling. “So – um, how about a little chicken dance-action, Beesly? Ten to one, I could out-chicken you.”

“Ha, my chicken could beat your chicken all over town, and, besides -- Dwight taught me how to dance the cool way, she laughed, leaning back.

“Well, I think you’re all talk, so let’s get out there and prove it.”

“You are so on.”

Pam giggled as she followed him out to the dance floor.

“Dwight -- I knew this was a bad idea, nobody want to do the conga with me. Gosh, all your ideas are so lame.” Michael made a face as he crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out.

Dwight was about to reply, when he glanced through the conference room window, where he could see Jim and Pam toasting with paper cups and eyeing Andy’s anger management books and grinned (mission accomplished)

End