This is in response to a challenge by Pampongchamp to write "something, anything based on this fantabulous line: You don't do it on purpose but you make me shake."
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Pam was having a problem with her phones. After a while she couldn't take it anymore and went to tell her boss. She found Michael sitting in his office, working on a Borat impression.
“I know it might seem like I’m just goofing off, Pam, but I need to perfect this to impress a client.”
“Really? That’s cool." She sighed, she was going to have to indulge him before he paid attention. "Who?
Michael shrugged. “Not any specific client," he said. "But with the popularity of Borat there is bound to be one soon who would be impressed by this.”
“Ahh, okay. I came in to tell you that the phone is acting glitchy and we need to have a tech person look into it. Sometimes it’s dropping people.”
“Wait, here is Borat holding up McDonald’s. See this gun yes? You don’t do it on purpose but you make me shake. Vanilla.”
“That’s great, Michael," said Pam, smiling at his joke but concerned that he wasn't listening. "Don’t forget the phone problem though okay?”
“Phones must be fixed, verrry niiice,” he continued as she walked out the door. “You make me fries too, yes?”
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Michael wandered out of his office looking for someone else to give him feedback on his impression so he could hone it further. Ryan was too far away in the annex, Stanley was on a bathroom break. He found Jim on the phone with a potential buyer.
Jim was leaning back and trying to explain to the man that their paper was just as good as any other. “Yes it’s perfectly rectangular, I assure you,” he explained. “That incident when we delivered triangular paper to a customer was a one-time glitch and hasn’t happened again in two years. Everything works fine now.”
“Jim.”
“One second.” Jim put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Yes, Michael?”
“I’m working on my Borat.” Michael grinned, adopted his Borat expression and went into his routine. He held out his finger like a pretend pistol. “Verrry real gun. You don’t do it on purpose but you make me shake.”
“What’s that supposed to be?”
"Isn’t it obvious? Borat holding up a McDonald’s.”
“Oh. Well you paid me in Canadian money.”
“What?”
“Yes, I need a dollar fifty in U.S. money before I can make you that shake.”
“Gah. You don’t get it.” Jim was no fun, so Michael walked off in search of someone more cooperative.
“You still there? Sorry about that. My boss needed to interrupt me about something important.”
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Michael wandered over to Phyllis. “You don’t do it on purpose but you make me shake,” he started, in his best Borat voice.
Phyllis turned to look at him, frowned and crossed her arms. “Michael, when Jan told you to stop sending smutty email forwards, she didn’t mean you should bring the smut in person instead.”
“You’re just….why do you…?”
“Okay, I’m calling Jan.” But before she could pick up her phone, he had walked away so Phyllis just tried to forget it.
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Creed was sitting at his desk, working on a game of minesweeper when Michael walked up and began his Borat routine.
“That’s great, Michael. Borat right?”
“Yes, thank you!” Michael was overjoyed and grinned ear to ear. He patted Creed on the back.
“By the way, do you really want a shake?” Creed asked. “Because last month I found a shake machine in my neighbor's trash and I keep it in my lower drawer here.”
