The streets of Scranton have become pile rubble strewn with craters. It looks like several consecutive wars have been fought there in a relatively short space of time and no one came out the clear victor.
Suddenly, a single man is visible, standing powerfully on top of his battered late-1980s automobile: that man is Dwight Schrute.
"Join or die!" Dwight shouts, letting loose a bolt from his crossbow for emphasis. "Join or die!" he commands again, firing another bolt.
Dwight looked fiercely out at the ruins, knowing that in this place he was destined to be a king by his own hand.
Then he realized he only had so many arrows for his crossbow and he probably wasn't going to be able to find anymore, so he ran over to the wall and pulled arrows he had just shot back out, silently hoping they were still re-useable.
---
Jim: So, at first the Post-Apocalypse wasn't that bad. I mean, we didn't have to worry about sales or Corporate and we had a lot more time on our hands. Laughs. We started coming up with new holidays like "We Found Twelve Boxes of Untainted Macaroni Tuesday" or "Useable Water Monday," which kept the Party Planning Committee pretty busy. Um, my iPod ran out of juice pretty early on, but we were able to find a solar-powered CD player... we only have the one CD, but it's the Best of Bowie, so... it wasn't all bad.
Jim jims.
Jim: Of course, things have this tendency when Michael's around...
---
Michael lined up all of his former employees outside the wreckage that had once been the Scranton branch of Chili's to deliver one of this classic motivational speeches.
"Okay, I know the human race has been decimated, but we need to focus on the future," he said crisply. "First order of business is to re-populate the species. We will be going in alphabetical order, so... Angela."
"No."
"For the future of the human race," Michael pleaded.
"No."
"Okay," Michael recovered, "we'll move on. Kelly!"
"Yeah, I'd like to, but... I'm still on the pill," Kelly assured Michael, not noticing Ryan's silent lamentations to the contrary.
"How long do those last, though?" Michael asked. "Two weeks? Three?"
"Well, this is a really good pill," Kelly explained, "so it could easily be six months." After a thought she added. "Maybe seven."
"Okay," Michael was clearly getting a little desperate, but he had one last glimmer of hope. "Pam?" he practically cried.
"Um..." Pam fumbled," I'm sorry, but... I don't think that this is something that... I'm going... to do."
Michael turned his head away in frustration, caught a glimpse of Meredith and Phyllis, then decided he'd much rather stare at the clouds.
---
Michael: I was lead to believe that Post-Apocalypse was going to be this big adventure with all kinds of guns and robots and motorcycles and that all the women would be wearing fur bikinis.
Pause.
Michael: But there's no gas... so there's no motorcycles; there's no robots or monkeys to shoot and even if there were, no one will tell me where they hid all the guns; and... not one woman will wear a fur bikini.
Pause.
Michael: No matter how much I beg, so...
---
"Now, we need to divide into hunting parties," Dwight commanded, attempting to marshall the troops together. "Michael, Ryan, and myself will be the Team Galactica, Jim, Stanley, and Oscar will be team Babylon 5. Kevin and Creed should be ruled as being aged and/or infirm and (thus) would only hold us back, therefor you can stay with the women and work on cleaning the carcasses..."
"What about Toby?" Jim tweaked in.
"Michael has indicated that Toby would ultimately cause the downfall of mankind and should thus be officially shunned," Dwight bellowed at which Jim could only jim. "Now, since most of the cattle and deer are probably running a little scarce, we need to be ready to eat cats and dogs..."
Typically, Toby chimed in as a voice of reason. "Dwight, we have enough canned goods to last us for awhile and not all the crops have been effected and we know from scouting that there's no shortage of food if we go further west, so..."
Dwight nodded his solemnly. "Looks like Michael was right again."
---
Creed: I was actually very fortunate. I've been growing some crops of my own for years and they managed to survive completely untouched.
Lifts up a plastic bag, you know what's in it.
Creed: "No crime if there ain't no laws."
---
Night has fallen and the survivors of Scranton have gathered around a fire to keep warm. Pam hovers away from the crowd, lost in her own thoughts. Jim approaches her silently, holding a box. "Hey."
Pam turns to look a him. "Hi. Where were you this afternoon?"
Jim shrugs, giving her the 'shy jim,' "there was just something I had to look for." He hands her the box.
Slowly, Pam opens the lid and thumbs through the titles. "Fargo... Edward Scissorhands... These are my desert island movies," she gasps.
Jim gives her the 'slight-smile jim.' "Yeah, I know." He gazes out across ruined landscape. "If we could just find a functioning DVD player, everything would be almost perfect."
"Right," Pam admits quietly, "almost."
Story Notes:
I still think the title works.
Author's Chapter Notes:
First Office story I ever wrote, clocking in at just under then minutes to write. Originally posted 01-25-07 on Fanfiction dot net. Just think where I'd be if I never posted it, though.
HalloweenJack138 is the author of 12 other stories.
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