A week's time had taken the sting out of the disappointment of Valentine's Day, and Jim had done a lot to convince himself that he was going to get over his time in California. He hid the memory card from his digital camera - the one that had all his pictures from California on it - in a shoebox in his closet. He bought a new one at Wal*Mart and considered it a fresh start.

The next morning, he walked into the office and immediately regretted getting out of bed. Everyone was gathered in the middle of the office and Michael was handing out props. Abby accepted a small box with air holes and walked back to her desk.

"What, uh, is going on here?" Jim asked.

"It's an enrichment exercise," Abby told him. "Michael is making us perform Cinderella at lunch. He invited clients and people to come watch us and everything. At this point... I really wish I had taken that job at Wal*Mart."

When Michael spotted Jim, he grinned and rushed over. "There he is - Prince Charming!"

Before Jim could protest, Michael shoved a plastic sword in his arms and put a pink construction paper crown on his head.

"Nope," Jim said. He took the paper crown off. "My question is: why?"

"Advertising!" Michael explained. "We need to be accessbile to our customers, Jim. I want them to see how talented we are here at Dunder-Mifflin. So, everyone is voluntarily participating in this mandatory, fun-filled, exciting, mandatory event. 'Kay, buddy?"

"Fine," Jim said and sighed. "But I think Dwight should be the prince. He's perfect for the role, if you ask me."

"Dwight is the dog. He was going to be the pumpkin, but Abby said she wouldn't ride him piggyback when he turns into the carriage," Michael explained. As an afterthought, he turned to Abby. "Keep an eye on those mice. I might want to save them in case we do the Three Blind Mice."

Abby nodded and opened the small box. "There are only two mice in here."

Michael grimaced. "Well... I'm sure it'll be fine."

The office ground to a halt in order for everyone to prepare for Michael's play. He had shockingly received around twenty positive responses to the 158 invitations he had sent out, so as far as Jim was concerned, they would be embarrassing themselves in front of a live audience. He had tried to sneak out of the office, but Dwight had caught him and tried to report him AWOL. Michael was too busy picking out a "director-y" baseball cap to care.

It was fifteen minutes until the public humiliation began and people were starting to come into the office. Michael ushered them into the conference room as they arrived, babbling on excitedly about his "creative vision." The play's cast was in the break room, trying to mentally prepare themselves.

Jim held the plastic sword and placed the construction paper crown on his head. He looked at Abby and said, "Could you, maybe, like, I don't know - kill me?"

Abby pointed at the red bandana on her head. "Look at me. I'm Cinderella if she was in the Bloods, Jim. Ghettorella."

When Michael came into the room to collect his actors for an introduction, Jim wasn't sure that his day could get any worse. He took a deep breath and followed Phyllis and Abby into the conference room. He stared down at his feet, willing the building to collpase under him because he was sure it would actually make his day better.

Michael and Dwight had moved the table out of the room in the morning and set up a few rows of chairs for guests.

"Welcome, new and old friends," Michael greeted, grinning ear to ear. "I say friends because we are. You're not just clients, you're not just former employees - you're friends of Dunder-Mifflin Scranton. And you can be friends with me on MySpace, too. I'm trying to fill up my top eight. Right now Tom is my number one, but he sends me messages all the time. We're close. MySpace.com, bigmikethatswhatshesaid."

He pointed to Abby. "Anyway, this is Abby. She is a Gemini, loves Captain Crunch and will be playing Cinderella. Abby, take a bow. Take - Take a bow. Just... forget it. God."

Michael pointed to Jim. "This is Jim. He's my best friend, he sells paper and he's third hottest in the office after Ryan and then me. He will be playing Prince Charming. Jim, take a bow. Take - Never mind, just - just look at the people."

Jim shook his head but looked up anyway. He scanned the crowd slowly, hoping none of his clients had showed up for this atrocity. When he saw the last face in the crowd, his breath caught in his throat.

"Pam," he sputtered. His eyes widened when he realized he said it out loud. He hoped the building would collapse and swallow him whole right now.

"Oh, yeah!" Michael exclaimed. He pointed to Pam. "And back there ladies and germs is Pam Beesly! She used to be our hostess with the mostest! Not literally, of course, because we're a paper company and not a restaurant, but... still attractive. Still hot. Phyllis was kind enough to invite her today, which is great because Phyllis is an ugly - Phyllis is playing the ugly hag, the witch, the - Phyllis, you're a handsome woman! Please stay!"

Creed adjusted the wig on his head and stared down at the Post-It note in his hand. He cleared his throat and sang, "Be our guest, be our guest! Put our service to the test -"

"Wrong!" Michael bellowed from the audience. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the rest of the room broke into laughter. "Just... next scene! Next scene!"

The play hadn't been going as Michael planned. Half of the guests had left three-quarters of the way through the performance and the employees were treating it like improv class. Honestly, Michael was a little happy about this because they had some great techniques, but he was insulted with how they were treating his creative vision. He began shouting stage directions and narration from the back of the room.

"Jim!" he screamed. "Be verklempt!" He put on an exaggerated New York accent and added, "SNL. Coffee Talk. It's like buttah."

Jim rolled his eyes, gripped the plastic sword tightly and had to fight the impulse to run from the room. He ignored all the eyes - her eyes - on him and focused on Abby as she gave the performance of her life, complete with expressive hand motions. He wouldn't think about Pam. He told himself he didn't care. He didn't care why she was in Scranton, didn't care why she was in Dunder-Mufflin, didn't care that she hadn't taken her eyes off him throughout the play.

Abby did classic jazz hands and said her line. "It's midnight!"

"Yes, so it is." Jim shrugged.

"Good-byeeee," Abby said, dragging out the vowel sounds.

"Good-bye?" Jim said. His voice was strained and quiet. "But you can't go now."

"But I must," Abby said. In a sudden bout of inspiration, she pierotted out of the room and cut the scene short.

Michael sighed loudly from the back of the room.