Things had been going pretty good with Michael Scott.  Michael had even brought back a t-shirt from Jamaica specifically for Andy.  He was pretty sure that the picture on the shirt was not Milli Vanilli, but if Michael said it was, then that’s who it was.  And he’d wear that shirt proudly.  He wasn’t really a t-shirt man, but he’d sacrifice.  He’d do anything to gain Michael’s trust and become the new number two... or three.  That Schrute idiot was proving hard to get around, but Andy would deal with him when the time was right.

Normally, doing inventory for the evening would’ve made for a boring night, but the genius that is Michael Scott decided that if they all were going stay late, he’d throw them a totally sweet luau.  And “luau” meant “party” in Hawaii, so… if there was one thing that Andrew Bernard never missed, it was a parrrrrtaaay!  He tried to liven things up a bit by playing Michael’s drum from Jamaica, but Big Tuna had swiped the drum sticks from him right when he was about to play “Hot! Hot! Hot!” for a fifth encore.  So uncool, Tuna.

Michael was being a total downer too, but that, Andy could understand.  He glanced over at the blown up picture of Michael and a half naked Jan that was hanging on the warehouse wall and he chuckled.  Jan was totally babelicious, but he was like, 91 percent sure that she was high maintenance.  Total spitfire.  Wouldn’t want to be in Michael’s shoes.  No sir.  Only LMs for Mr. Bernard, thank you.

“Here,” Dwight said, stepping in front of Andy and handing him a clipboard with a checklist on it.  “Go count the scissors on that shelf.  And try not to screw it up, Bernard.”

“Pfsh, like I could.  It’s not like I’m you or anything,” Andy replied.

Dwight’s nostrils flared and he stood taller as he said, “I could count those scissors backwards.  You wish you were me.”

“What?  I so do not wish I was you.  You wish you were as awesome as me.”

“You wish you were as smart as me!”

“Well you wish—“

“Hey, guys,” said Big Tuna, walking over to them.  “You know what I wish?  I wish you two would stop wishing and do the inventory so that we can all go home.”

“Pfft, whatever, Tuna.  I’m going to go count how many scissors we have in stock.”

“Good, you do that.”

Andy glared at Dwight one last time, then he went to masterfully perform the duty that had been thrust upon his hands.  He was counting the hell out of those scissors when he heard a voice behind him sing, “Pens and staplers, pens and staplers, I’m counting pens and staplers…”  He glanced over his shoulder and saw Kelly by a fake palm tree smiling and dancing as she counted… pens and staplers.

Andy grinned, then he looked back at the scissors and started to sing in a low voice, “Scissors, scissors, scissors… scissors, scissors, scissors…”  He looked back at Kelly saw that she was smiling at him.  She continued her song, and Andy went into his usual baritone to sing, “28 pairs of scissors only need 32 mo-o-o-ore.”

Kelly threw down the stapler she was holding and she clapped her hands.  “Yay!  We are so awesome.”

“Indeed we are,” Andy said.

“Singing just makes everything more fun, doesn’t it?”

“My thoughts exactly.”  The sounds around Andy became muffled as he stared at her bright smile.  There was just something about it that made him feel all warm and… comfortable.  He was pretty sure he could stare at her smile all night and never get bored… ever.

“Earth to Andy!”

Andy jumped at the voice and looked around.  He saw Michael with his hands cupped around his mouth as a makeshift megaphone.

“Earth to Andy!  Kkkksh, Houston, Andy has a problem.”

“Michael, hey, sorry, I didn’t hear you.  I guess I was just too focused on my task.  I am really good at counting these scissors.”

“Good!  When you’re done with that go help Jim and Dwight stack the receipt roll boxes.”

“Sure thing, boss!”

Michael nodded, then turned and went to search for Darryl.

Andy’s eyes shifted back to Kelly and he gave her a bow as he said, “Well, milady, it was a pleasure harmonizing with you.  We make one great duo.”

“Indeed,” she replied, giving him a curtsy.

Andy laughed, and as he drank in her smile for one last moment, Tuna’s voice echoed in his head.  She’s high maintenance.  Mr. Bernard was definitely an LM kind of a guy, but he had a feeling that if he had the chance, he would make an exception for one certain HM.  It would be a challenge, right?  And Andy never ran away from a challenge.  Especially one that smiled at him like that.

“Oh my god, Ryan!” she shouted.  She ran over to Big Turkey and grabbed his arm.  “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, check this out.  I totally made up this awesome song…”

Andy smiled awkwardly and turned back to his shelf of scissors.  Eh, HMs were too much work anyway.  Andy sighed and started counting scissors again while he hummed softly to himself.