The first gift basket is full of pears. They're good pears, sweet and juicy, and the Sports Night staff devours them before Casey even sees the basket. He spends the rest of the day complaining that, as the basket had borne both his name and Dan's, he had been deprived of what was rightfully his. It gets so bad that Kim throws her tube of pear-scented hand lotion at him and Dana tells him to shut up.
The next day, there is a second gift basket, but there are no pears. This one is all bagels. "Bagels?" Dan asks. "We live and work in New York. Do they think we are having some sort of bagel shortage that requires us to import bagels from Bristol?"
"You think it's them?" Casey asks, tossing a bagel from one hand to the other like a baseball. "I only ask because, if it's them, I think they should give me half a basket of pears the next time we see them."
"Technically, I believe the rest of our staff owes you half a basket of pears," Dan says, "but, yes, I think it's them. The gift tag on this basket is addressed to Keith, but someone scratched it out and wrote our names in."
Casey makes a face at the bagel in his hands and tosses it back toward the basket. "So we're getting Olbermann's used bagels?"
"You know what you did there?" Dan asks, nodding toward the basket. "You, my friend, put the bagel in the basket."
"I'm pretty sure it's 'biscuit in the basket,' Danny, but, yes, I did."
"That looked suspiciously like a bagel," Dan says.
"It was a bagel," Casey says, "but I'm saying, I think the phrase is 'biscuit in the basket.'"
"You know what we should do?" Dan asks, plucking Casey's juggled bagel from the basket and setting it on the desk. He picks up a fresh one and frowns at it. "We should call Olbermann and ask."
"And we can thank him for the used bagels." Casey pauses. "Do you think he knows we have his bagels? What if it was a mix up? What if he wants them back?"
"Case, I don't think the delivery guy accidentally took a wrong turn on his way to Bristol and ended up in Manhattan. I'm pretty sure we have his bagels because we're supposed to have his bagels, thus making them our bagels."
"Sports Night, SportsCenter -- I'm just saying, the potential for confusion is there."
Thoughtfully, Dan taps the bagel against his chin. "What you're telling me is that you'd rather call Rachel."
"Rachel doesn't yell." Casey reaches for the gift tag on the basket and turns it so he can see the writing. He frowns. "She also sends us Keith's bagels, apparently."
Dan cocks his head. "She sent the bagels? Did she write it in invisible ink that only Casey McCall can see?"
"If I can see it, it wouldn't be invisible."
"That's a fair point," Dan says. He frowns hard. "How do you know it's from Rachel?"
"Our names." Casey rips the tag off the basket and waves the paper at Dan. "They're in her handwriting, such as it is."
Dan snatches the gift tag out of Casey's hand and peers at the paper. "You're right. This is Rachel's atrocious handwriting. You know what this means?"
"That Rachel likes us and is sending us presents? And that she owes me half a basket of pears?"
"It means Jailbait stole Keith's bagels."
Casey's eyes light up and he jumps out of his chair. "Let's call Olbermann and get her in trouble."