"Hey, Mike," Darryl called softly, closing the distance between them. "I'm a little worried about all this."
"Darryl, I have total confidence in you and the entire Warehouse Crew," Michael assured him. "Or, as I like to think of you, the Receiving Department!"
Darryl ignored Michael's childish giggling just as he ignored the gross violation of his promise to stop making that same joke over and over again. What he couldn't ignore was the potential safety disaster looming in front of him. "That's just it, Mike: we're a Warehouse Crew, not a Stage Crew! We've never had to work lighting or sound before!"
"And none of the office employees have ever had to act before," Michael cut in. "So we're even."
----
Michael: I am very please to announce that tonight we will be staging our very own production of "the Wonderful Wizard of Oz."
He holds up a flier that Pam has designed for the event.
Michael: Yes, "the Wizard of Oz," written, of course, by Frank Oz. Just before he was cast as Yoda.
He nods confidently.
Michael: Now there was a multi-talented individual.
----
"Now, I know some of you might still have your doubts about this evening's festivities," Michael began.
"I should say so," Stanley affirmed.
"But this is for charity and we're doing this for the kids, so..." Michael punctuated this statement with the kind of warm smile that merely confirmed that he had absolutely no other justification for the mess he'd thrown his employees into.
"I still don't see why I have to be a flying monkey," Stanley growled with slow anger.
"Well, because..."
"And why couldn't I be Dorothy?" Kelly asked for what would certainly not be the last time this evening.
Michael couldn't help but snicker. "You're kidding, right?"
"I mean, I already have the costume," Kelly continued.
Michael shook his head. "Kelly, you're Glenda, the Good Witch of the East."
"South," Stanley corrected.
"Well, when I see Kelly I think 'East,'" Michael dismissed. "You being Dorothy would only confuse the kids... You don't see Ryan complaining about being Toto, do you?"
----
Ryan blinks at the screen for a few minutes.
Ryan: I just want to go home...
----
"Everyone was chosen for the role they fit," Michael stressed. "That's why I'm the Wizard."
Stanley considered pointing out that how unintentionally accurate that was, but decided that it would help nothing. "I still think this was a bad idea," he grumpled.
"Well, it's negative attitudes like that sunk the Titanic, Stanley," Michael rreprimanded coldly.
----
Michael: I think the real reason Stanley's upset is that we couldn't do "the Wiz." But, you know, that wouldn't work unless everybody else wore black face.
Pause.
Michael: And he didn't like that idea, either, for some reason.
----
As they both sat there having their makeup applied by a stiff and ever-so-slightly blitzed Meredith, Jim couldn't help but stare at Dwight.
"What?" Dwight demanded.
Jim cocked his head to the side. "So... are you battle robot or a science robot?"
"For the last time, Jim," Dwight schruted, "I am not a robot, I am a Tin Woodsman!"
"Then why are you wearing your Cylon costume?" Jim asked with a distinct chipper-ness.
"At least I was willing to spend a little money to make this play look professional," Dwight hissed, "how much did you spend on that 'costume' of yours?"
Jim's costume, which consisted of the shirt Creed had given him at Christmas, a beat-up pair of khakis, and the odd bit of straw poking out here and there, was indeed made on the cheap.
Still, no one could deny he made an excellent Scarecrow. "You're a dancing robot, aren't you?"
Dwight's face boibled and shensed as he attempt to keep his head from exploding, Jim (ever one to throw fuel on the fire) tried to encourage Dwight to show off his moves with a rousing chorus of "Intergalatic."
----
Dwight: Michael treated this play like it was Vietnam: he gave us a few hours of basic training and than dropped us in the middle of the jungle.
Dwight smiles with an admiration that borders on worship.
Dwight: And, just like Vietnam, I predict a decisive victory.
----
Pam felt like she was wearing a picnic blanket.
Michael had repeatedly told her that she should be happy to have the lead role, but Michael had also tried to convince her that the children would appreciate a "sexy" Dorothy, so she didn't really put too much faith in anything he had to say on the subject.
"Pam, I don't know if I can remember any of my lines," Kevin stammered and shuntered as he nervously played with the tail of his lion costume.
"It'll be okay, Kevin," Pam reassured him gently.
"But... what if I suck? What if they hate me?" he panicked.
"Kevin, being on stage shouldn't be hard for you. You're in a band."
"It's different with kids," Kevin explained.
Pam nodded, she was still pretty apprehensive around children herself.
"They bite," Kevin added after a beat.
----
Michael: Is it unusual for a manager to force his employees to perform "the Wizard of Oz" for a group of Special Education students?
Pause.
Michael: Maybe. But sometimes a talented manager has to do something a little unusual to get results.
Pause.
Michael: Like those scientists who invented Gatorade by illegally testing on college students.
----
"So, this must be a dream come true for you," Angela smiled with cold reptilian hate at her coworker and fellow human being.
"Yes, Angela," Oscar replied, "it's my dream to dress up like a tree and throw apples at Pam."
Angela shrugged, unconvinced. "Well, it's your 'culture.'"
Oscar took a deep breath and tried to hold his tongue in check.
----
Oscar: Three guesses what part they gave Angela.
----
While Phyllis had wanted to play Glenda and she was understandably upset at being cast as Auntie Em, she had accepted long ago that this is how Michael saw her and no power on earth could change that. So, rather than complain or rage against God, she vowed to perform the material she had been given to the best of her abilities and give the kids the best show she could.
Besides, there were definitely people who had been received worse treatment.
"I'm sorry you didn't get to be the Wizard," she said as warmly as she could muster.
Creed nodded solemnly. He didn't know what was going on or what he was doing here, but he figured he was better off just keeping his mouth shut.
----
Jim: Could I have imagined this happening?
Pause.
Jim: Well... I couldn't imagine a song about premature ejaculation being used in a Burger King commercial... and after that there's really nothing that shock you the same way anymore.
----
"Okay, everybody," Michael ordered, "let's huddle up."
In a collective shrug, the assorted Dunder-Mifflinites joined around their boss.
"Circle of power," he said as if that explained anything.
As they joined together in a circle and linked their hands, there was many a meaningful linking of eyes: some dubious, some curious, some merely confused. Phyllis was instantly reminded of a party she had attended some years previous (before she and Bob Vance got serious), although she hoped tonight would leave slightly less in the way of self-loathing and guilt.
"Now," Michael said with gravitas, "we're all going to take a moment to pray for a successful performance."
"Pray to who? We aren't all the same religion," Kelly pointed out pointedly.
Michael considered this for a moment before coming up with the perfect solution. "Then we'll all have to pray to a god none of us worship," he said confidently, "only fair solution."
Angela didn't look at all pleased with this solution, but Dwight leaped into action. "I suggest Yog-Sothoth!"
----
Toby: Am I upset that I'm not in Michael's play?
There follows a rather lengthy Pause.
Toby: You know, I'm really okay with it.
Story Notes:
Originally posted 4-28-07 on Fanfiction dot net.
Author's Chapter Notes:
"My turntable has a wah-wah pedal."-- Mix Master Mike
