Welcome to Dunder Miflin! (Erin Hannon wears The Mask.) (Patreon)

I’ve always imagined Erin Hannon—portrayed by Ellie Kemper—as a perfect candidate to don the Mask. Between her childhood traumas, that endearing sense of confusion, her quirky weirdness, and a bubbly personality that just never quits, she seems like the kind of character who would unleash a truly unpredictable, zany alter ego. This time around, I wanted to push my editing skills further, so I went all-in with Photoshop to create a more realistic look for this concept. I’m excited to share it with you and hope you enjoy the results. Below is the original image, followed by a short story to set the mood.

A short story....

It all started when Erin Hannon discovered an odd wooden mask tucked behind a stack of mail at the reception desk. It wasn’t supposed to be there—maybe Michael had left it years ago, or Dwight had planted it as a prank, but nobody knew for sure. It looked old, carved with strange lines, and painted a dull, mossy green. She picked it up, curious. It felt heavier than expected, and when she held it close, her hair stood on end as if charged by static electricity.

“Uh, guys?” Erin called out, holding the mask before her face. “Whose is this?” Her voice echoed strangely in her ears, and nobody answered immediately. Jim glanced over lazily from his desk. Pam and Oscar were engrossed in some paperwork. Kevin was napping. Just another quiet afternoon.

Then, a tug of sudden, strange instinct: Erin lifted the mask to her face. The moment it touched her skin, it seemed to vacuum-seal itself against her flesh. Her eyes went wide. She tried to pull it off, but it clung tight, forming a perfect, airtight grip. Panic shimmered in her chest. “Hey! HEY!” she shrieked, voice muffled. She dug her fingertips under the edges, but it was useless. The mask felt alive, pulsing like it had its own heartbeat.

Across the office, heads snapped up at her screaming. Kevin jolted awake. Creed raised an eyebrow. Jim stood up, concerned. The whole room was filled with a sudden hush, broken only by Erin’s frantic gasps.

Then came the change. A low, humming wind surged out of nowhere, swirling around Erin in a miniature tornado of loose papers and Post-it notes. Overhead lights flickered. She stumbled back into the reception desk as green sparks crackled across her shoulders. Her screams turned urgent, high-pitched. She could feel her face warping beneath the wood—her nose stretching, her cheeks pushing forward into the mask’s contours. Tears sprang to her eyes, but they evaporated into the weird energy swirling around her.

“Erin!” Pam cried, rushing forward but halting as a burst of green lightning snapped across the floor tiles. Everyone watched, horrified and mesmerized, as the reception area transformed into a stage for the impossible.

Erin’s body jerked violently. Her torso twisted, her spine arching in an impossible curve as if pulled by invisible strings. The mask’s wooden surface began to glow, melting into a neon emerald hue. The shape of Erin’s face now pressed outward—her eyes bulging cartoonishly large, her teeth broadening and whitening until they gleamed like polished piano keys. Her hair whipped around her head in a crimson spiral, growing impossibly lustrous and dramatic as if freshly dyed and styled by a mad stylist. She screamed again, the sound warping into a strange, echoing laughter halfway through.

“Help me!” she managed, voice strangled—but then her plea turned into a manic giggle that rattled through the room. The office watched slack-jawed as the mask seemed to inflate and deflate her head like a balloon, stretching her features before snapping them into a green, grinning visage. Erin’s slender frame bent forward, back, and then straightened with a snap. Her blouse and skirt shimmered, the fabric crawling over itself, rearranging into a flashy, sequined dress that hugged her curves. Her heels lifted a few inches off the floor, as if gifted to her by some cartoon cobbler.

The sound was incredible—like thunder claps muffled under laughter. The lights flashed again, and with a final whooshing swirl, the green whirlwind died down. Papers drifted lazily to the floor. Silence fell, broken only by soft crackles of leftover static.

The figure that stood behind the reception desk was no longer the Erin they knew. She bore Erin’s unmistakable red hair and kind eyes, but now her skin was a vivid lime green, her cheeks high and sculpted, her grin enormous and mischievous. She adjusted her sparkly magenta dress with a flourish, flashing a grin at the office that practically glowed under the fluorescents. Her eyes glinted with wild energy, and when she inhaled, it sounded like the sucking of cartoon wind.

“Whew!” she cackled, voice now smooth, sultry, and brimming with confidence. “That was a ride!” She snapped her fingers, and a random set of desk accessories leapt into the air, rearranging themselves into a bouquet of rubbery flowers. She sniffed at them, then tossed them aside like confetti.

Everyone gaped, speechless. Jim’s mouth hung open. Pam clutched at her chair. Dwight adjusted his glasses, stunned but also intrigued. Kevin let out a small whimper. Oscar blinked rapidly.

Erin—if it was still Erin—rolled her shoulders, flexing like a cat ready to pounce. She gave a flamboyant bow, the green skin on her neck shimmering. “Who’s ready to have some fun?” she cooed, winking broadly. Her voice rang out like a game-show host’s, full of pep and mischief.

Where moments ago there had been a mild-mannered receptionist, now stood a living cartoon goddess, powerful and unbound. The office would never forget the way she screamed and contorted before becoming this new, sensational being.