Boysenberry my ass.

Poisonberry is more like it.

Was he trying to kill me? Have I done something wrong in my role as assistant extraordinaire that would make him want to poison me with a danish?

I wonder if I die in the White House if they'll bury me at Arlington?

Probably not.

"Ginger!!"

Oh God, Sam. Go away.

"Ginger!!"

I hate it when they don't listen to my inner voice. So annoying.

"GINGER!!!"

You'd think he'd actually figure out by now that I'm not at my desk. I just pray he doesn't actually go through it. Last time he forgot that the right top drawer's track is broken and if you open it too fast- -

*CRASH*

Yeah, it definitely falls to the ground.

"Oops. . ." I hear in a little boy voice.

What's the use? "Sam, I'm in here."

"Here where?"

"Toby's office."

He comes bolting in and walks right past my deathbed, also known as Toby's couch. "I'm looking for draft thirteen of the welfare reform speech. Do you. . ." He's standing at Toby's desk and looking in all directions. Right, left, in front of him, under the desk, under the chair, and in the closet. I think we should all take a moment to be thankful Sam's not a secret service agent. "Ginger, where are you?"

"Behind you, Sherlock."

He spins around and stares down at my lifeless corpse. Brought to this point of near death by fruit given to me by a man I considered my mentor. Remember me now, Sam, for soon I could be gone.

Yeah, I could be getting a little carried away here.

"Ginger, why are you on Toby's couch?"

"I'm dying, Sam." I curl up a little bit more and stick out my bottom lip to accentuate the point that I am in fact dying.

"I didn't walk in on anything totally inappropriate, did I?"

Unless by totally inappropriate he means how I'm about to hurl into a garbage can. "Uh. . I don't think so."

"Good, cause one time I walked into Josh's office and I could have sworn out of the corner of my eye I saw something going on by his blackboard. I don't want to say what but Donna definitely had all this chalk on the back of her suit."

"I can assure you there's nothing inappropriate going on here. Toby's not even in the building."

"Nothing totally steamy and not proper?"

Ewww. . .I shake my head quickly and it makes me a little bit dizzy. "Not at all, Sam."

"Good. Where's Toby?"

"Rite-Aid."

"Why did he go to Rite-Aid?"

"Because he tried to kill me with a boysenberry danish and now he feels amazingly large amounts of guilt." The way it should be, I might add.

"Who puts boysenberries in Danish?"

My point exactly. "I don't know. Someone in the mess."

"And you ate it?"

"Unfortunately,"

"And now you're sick?"

He catches on so fast. "Yes, Sam."

"Don't you think someone should call the staff doctor?"

"Toby already did. He was just here." Doctor Reynolds. Young, cute, kinda looked like Tom Cruise.

"And?"

"I have food poisoning. He says I'll be fine in a couple hours."

"Shouldn't you go home?"

"He said I should lie down and rest. Sudden movement or a car ride would just make me feel a hundred times worse than I feel now." How feeling a hundred times worse than this is possible is beyond me.

"Interesting. . ."

"Oh, and he said one more thing."

"What?"

Not being able to move much of my body, I wave my hand in the general direction of the trashcan next to the couch. "See this?"

"Yeah. . ."

"We're going to do a lot of bonding in about twenty minutes."

He gives me a quizzical look. "Huh?" Then he to starts back up slowly until he's sitting on the edge of Toby's desk with his feet dangling slightly off the ground. "Oh. . . ."

"Don't worry, Sam. I won't puke on you."

"Thanks." He patters his feet for a few seconds. "You know, new shoes."

"Sam Seaborn, get off my desk!!" Toby enters the room and Sam jumps off his desk like a puppy that was just caught on the dining room table, eating stuffing straight from the Thanksgiving turkey.

Toby is carrying four shopping bags from Rite-Aid, which he discards next to the couch. I knew I shouldn't of let him go to the drug store. One time he actually left the White House to go on a search of DC candy stores for Hot Tamales. The vending machine company had stopped supplying Hot Tamales in the mess. He would of sent me but I was assigned to write a letter to the vending machine people and the Hot Tamale Company explaining how occasionally a spicy candy like the Hot Tamale was a refreshing change from your usual sugar and chocolate candy. What he returned with was twelve boxes of Mike and Ikes, an economy size bag of red hots, and an actual jalapeno pepper. Still not too sure what happened to the pepper.

I'm also not exactly sure why I work here.

He turns around and gives me the look I like to refer to as the, Guilt of Ziegler. I very rarely get this look. One time he called my hair orange and my reaction wasn't very pretty. I got the guilt look for a couple days.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Nope."

The Guilt of Ziegler look grows and I all of a sudden start to feel a little bit better.

He points to the bags. "I bought you some stuff." Stuff? It looks like he bought me the whole hair care aisle.

"A carton of raspberries to finish off the job?"

"Ginger, I told you I was sorry about the danish."

He did. Eleven times to be exact. I counted.

I might as well humor the man. Plus, gifts are fun. Besides, I've got at least fifteen or twenty minutes before I'm suppose to be at one with the garbage can. "Okay, what did you get me?"

"Yeah," Sam says, making his way for the bags. "Anything for me?"

"No!" Toby grabs the bags and heads for the chair next to the couch. "Did I try to poison you today?"

"Not yet."

"Well, when I do, and I'm sure that day will come soon, you'll get gifts."

Sam nods and leans back on his heels. "That's something to look forward to."

"Now," Toby says, starting to open a bag. "I don't know much about this being sick thing. However, when I was a kid and I was sick, my mom would give me a bowl of soup and a package of matzah crackers. So," he reaches into the bag. "I bought you some soup."

Is he insane? He's triumphantly holding up an assortment of Raman noodles, Lipton Cup of Soup, and Mr. Noodles. "Toby, I have food poisoning."

"And. . . . ."

He's still not getting it. "Eating probably wouldn't be in my best interest."

"Even I knew that," I hear Sam whisper.

Toby hurls a package of Beef Raman noodles at Sam's head and grabs the bag, putting it behind him. "Okay, so we'll forget about what's in the rest of that bag." He reaches for another and puts that beside the first one. "And that one."

"Toby, how much food did you buy me?"

"Not much. You know, the soup, some orange juice, crackers, seltzer, ginger ail, and some tea bags." He pauses for a moment and I think he's done. "Oh, and ten Kit-Kat bars."

"Ten Kit-Kat bars?" Sam and I ask in unison.

"I know Ginger likes Kit-Kats." He mumbles, reaching for another bag.

I like Kit-Kats but I think I love the Guilt of Zeigler. I've got to get him to poison me more often.

"Okay," I say enthusiastically. "Put those aside for when I feel better. What else?"

"Ah," he's peering into the next bag and seems to have found something good. "The stuff in here might be helpful." He pulls out a bottle of Pepto Bismol. "See. . ."

I nod. "Promising."

He pulls out an economy size bottle of cherry Tums and gives me a questioning look.

"Well, technically they're for heart burn and indigestion." His face drops a little. "But," I hold up a hand. "They can be used to calm an upset stomach."

"Good. Cause I bought six bottles."

"Six?"

"I didn't know what flavor you liked. They've got mint, tropical fruit, cherry, spearmint, peppermint, and uh. . . .assorted. . .uh. . ." He starts scratching the top of his head and looking down at the floor.

"Assorted what?"

"Berries." The Guilt of Zeigler look has just grown to a whole new level.

"Toby!!!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize they were berry flavored."

Just the mention of the word is enough to make my stomach turn summersaults. I roll over to my side, clutching on to my stomach and let out a groan. I'm thinking this could be the end. We may need a priest in here to read me my last rights.

My impending death seems to be of no concern to Josh, who has just entered the room.

"Toby, we've got to get back to the Roosevelt- -what the hell is wrong with Ginger?"

Sam grabs onto his arm and pulls him back towards the bookcase. "She's gonna hurl! Watch out!"

"I'm not going to hurl," I say, trying to roll back against the couch. "At least not yet. Let's just refrain from mentioning the 'B' word anymore."

Josh looks at the assortment of Rite-Aid bags, the garbage can, and then down at me. "What's going on?"

I point towards Toby. "He tried to kill me."

Toby puts his hands on his forehead and shakes his head.

"You see, Josh," Sam uses his best 'I'm really a lawyer' voice to present the evidence. "Ginger ate a certain food product that we are no longer allowed to discuss. She's feeling a tad under the weather and it's all Toby's fault. This right here," he points towards the garbage can, making sure he doesn't get too close to it. "Will soon be Ginger's new best friend. "This, of course," he motions towards the way I'm sprawled out on the couch. "Is Ginger. And over here we have a very guilty Toby and all of his guilt gifts."

Josh looks at the bag with the big red and blue 'Rite-Aid' logo printed on the side. "He bought her guilt gifts at Rite-Aid?"

"Yes, he got her a wide variety of stomach relief medicine. And," he displays the package of beef Raman Toby threw at him earlier. "Lots of dried noodles."

"That's an interesting assortment of gifts, Toby."

"But there's more." Toby dives into the fourth and final bag.

"Oooh…." Sam rubs his hands together. "More stuff."

Toby pulls out a stack of magazines and books and hands them all over to me. I flip through them with Dumb and Dumber looking over my shoulder. There's Cosmo, Elle, Women's World, People. . ."

"Hey," Sam points toward the top right corner of the magazine cover. "William Shatner got remarried."

Josh smacks Sam in the head and I continue to look through my pile of reading material. There are two Mad Libs and a Betty and Veronica comic book. I hold them up and look over to Toby.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno. My nephew likes that kind of stuff when he's sick in bed."

I smile and look down at the book he's bought me. It's a hardcover copy of Danielle Steele's Accident. Apparently Toby either thinks I'm a very fast reader or that this food poising is gonna to be a long term thing. I turn over the book and I can hear Sam and Josh snickering. "I never really took you as the Danielle Steel type, Toby."

"Well, they didn't have any Gore Vidal on the Ride-Aid book rack. Plus, those are the kind of books women like to read." He glares at Sam and Josh who are giving him a weird look. "You know, so I hear."

Josh nods. "Donna's got a whole bunch of them in her apartment."

All three of us look over to Josh. I'm not too sure what the looks Toby and Sam are giving him look like him but I'm assuming they're quite similar to mine. He's shifting from foot to foot and he shrugs his shoulders at Sam. "What??"

Sam looks down at me and nods his head. "See. . . totally steamy and not proper."

Toby clears his throat and we all focus our attention to the Guilt of Zeigler. Well, at least I do. The other two are just here to make fun of the gifts and watch me puke.

"I...uh...I got you one more thing."

He's bought me food, stomach remedies, and reading material. The only other things available at Rite-Aid that he hasn't already bought me are cosmetics and female hygiene products. Let's not hope for the latter. "Okay...what is it?" I ask, in a tiny voice, praying that it's a Maybeline make-up brush set.

"It's a humidifier."

"A humidifier?"

"Yes,"

My eyes grow wide. "You mean like the humidifier that I've been asking for since the day we all started working here?" The humidifier that will filter all the horrible air in this room when Toby smokes cigars, something that he knows is not allowed?

He holds up a big blue box and I practically squeal with delight. You know- - if I could possibly squeal right now without throwing up one of my inner organs. "Thanks."

"Those things are expensive," Sam says, examining the box.

Josh nods in agreement. "And loud."

"What?" Sam turns back to Josh. "Donna has one of those in her apartment, too?"

"Shut up!"

"You're missing the point here, boys." I hit Josh in the knee with my Betty and Veronica comic. "Have either of you ever given your assistants something nice like a humidifier?"

They turn and look at each other and Josh shrugs his shoulders. "I gave Donna a book once."

Sam thinks for a moment. "I gave Cathy a stick of gum this morning."

I sigh. What's the use? I look at all my gifts and smile at Toby. "Thanks again."

"Not a problem. I promise to never give you a boysenberry danish ever again."

There's that word again. My stomach turns and I'm about ready to tell Sam to watch out for his shoes.

"Wait," Josh points a finger at me and gets a concerned look on his face. "You ate a boysenberry danish?"

"Uh-huh,"

"From the mess?"

"Yep. . ."

"And it made you sick?"

"No, I'm a fan of spending my afternoon in the fetal position on Toby's couch. Tomorrow they're gonna put a gurney in the oval office and I'm just going to hang out there. Yes...the thing made me sick."

The look on his face grows to more of a panicked look. "Are they all bad?"

"That's what Dr. Reynolds told me. There was something bad in the batter. Fortunately they said that only a couple people bought them. You know, boysenberry not exactly being the most popular of danishes."

He backs up towards the door, panic look still in tact. "I gotta go."

"Why?" Sam asks.

"I bought Donna a boysenberry Danish."

I can tell Sam's trying not to crack up. A smile appears on his face and he finally breaks into the giggles. "See, Josh buys his assistant gifts."

Josh shoots him a dirty look. "I wouldn't be laughing, noodle boy."

"Why?"

"Donna gave half of the danish to Cathy."

"My god," Sam gasps. "She's going to puke all over my office. "I just had the chairs recovered."

I can't help but smile as the two of them run from Toby's office. I do feel very bad for Donna and Cathy. Although- they will get to meet Dr. Reynolds.

"Don't forget," Toby yells after them. "Kit-Kats and Tums are on sale at Rite-Aid."

"You bought them for me on sale?"

"I would of gotten them for you even if they weren't."

I grin. "Good."

"So, uh, how much longer are we. . ."

I look down to the garbage can. "The doctor said soon."

He leans back against the chair and sighs. I throw my magazines and book across the room, far away from the garbage can and pick up my Mad Libs. "Mad Libs?" I ask, extending one out to Toby.

He shrugs his shoulder before reaching out for it. "Why not?"

I watch him open up his booklet and start to seriously concentrate on one of the puzzles.

This is fun. You know, in a 'pre-puke bonding with your boss over Mad Libs' kind of way.

The Guilt of Ziegler definitely has it's benefits.