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NONE OF WHAT MICHAEL SAID MADE ANY SENSE. It all felt like he was writing his own Grease fanfiction. But he seemed dead set on proving that he's the toughest man in the room. So dead set that when his eyes turned toward Evelyn, he started to talk nonsense. "Give it your best shot," he told her. "Hit me. Right here." His hand patted against his stomach.
"No," she replied, a nervous laugh slipping past her lips. Michael laughed. "Oh, come on. Don't be such a girl. Just hit me." She glanced toward Jim, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "Um, I try not to hit men unless they deserve it," she stated. Dwight, noticing the discomfort in her tone, cleared his throat. "I'll hit you, Michael."
His smile faltered slightly. "That would be kind of worthless," Michael replied, "because I know a ton of fourteen year old girls who could kick your ass." Jim made a small noise of humor. "You know a ton of fourteen year old girls?" he asked, making a face at the camera pointed toward them. "What belt are they?" Dwight asked.
"Look. Dwight is a wuss." Evelyn frowned. "When we rented Armageddon, he cried at the end of it. He did."
"No, Michael. I told you. That was because it was New Year's Eve and it started to snow at exactly midnight," Dwight argued.
"Oh, wah-wah. Bruce Willis. They're going to leave him on the asteroid."
It was starting to get unbearable. Evelyn glanced toward Jim. "Okay," Dwight blurted out, standing from his seat. "If I'm such a wuss, let me punch you." Dwight moved into position, his hands curled into two tight fists at his waist. Michael scoffed, but turned around nonetheless. He wasn't going to let Dwight outshine him. "Alright. Come on," Michael demanded.
Dwight let out a horrible yell as he pummeled both fists one after the other into Michael's abdomen. The older man doubled over, spitting in shock and pain. Evelyn's hands flew to her mouth in surprise. Dwight seemed pleased with himself and Michael's reaction. Everyone around the room began to look over curiously.
Jim's face was void of any humor. "Are you okay?" he asked their boss. Michael nodded, his face and neck growing red. "Are you sure?" Evelyn asked. He glared daggers at the girl. She shuddered at the ice in his stare. Jim stood to his feet as Michael spun around to escape to his office. "I'm fine," the older man hissed through his teeth. Jim opened his door for him and received a thank you in response.
