- Applewhite
- Aug 16, 2014
-
by vyelkin
-
Nap Ghost
|
Mose may or may not be a dog.
Jim starts calling Dwight "balloon boy."
The office becomes infested by Tiny Jims.
Jim is obsessed with Mars Needs Moms. Could it be a window into his twisted psyche?
Jim is often nude except for a pair of tennis shoes.
Cosmic Jim awakes!
Whenever Jim's pet monkey, Chips, is not on screen, everyone should be asking, "where's Chips?"
Dwight nurses a baby eagle back to health and names it Little Champion.
Jim "soups up" the elevator in Dunder Mifflin.
Jim runs for the position of city dogatcher.
Jim opens Famous Original Jim's. The worst pizza place in all of Scranton, maybe in all of Pennsylvania.
Dwight tells Jim to stop trying to sell "clown paper," whatever that is.
Elon Musk always dresses as Waluigi.
Jim vows to go all out because he "wants to get cancelled."
Dwight gets tricked by Jim's squeaky shoe machine.
Jim decides to "raise the steaks."
-Jim goes to a public shower without shower sandals so that he catches athletes’ foot, then breaks into Dwight’s house and tries on all his socks so Dwight gets athletes’ foot also
-Jim buys dosens of realistic fake skeletons, dresses them up in his coworkers’ clothes and arranges them in various poses around the office. When Dwight comes into work, he sees this and believes a plague has wiped out all life on earth overnight and that he’s the last man alive
-Jim puts poison on Dwight’s glasses so when Dwight puts them on he gradually goes blind over the course of the day
-Jim swaps all the furniture and everything in the office with the office next door so when Dwight walks in he’s confused and believes he’s walked into the wrong office
-Jim calls Dwight’s home phone every night and breathes heavily into the receiver so Dwight believes he’s being harassed by a pervert
-Dwight slips on a rollerskate and falls down the stairs into a tub of pudding that Jim has placed there
This was related to me by Ibn Battuta who travelled the world including Egypt. He learned of the story of Dwayt al-Shrood, an Egyptian who lived in the town of Al-Skrantaan which was famed for its paper. Dwayt al-Shrood was a paper merchant and a haughty man who falsely claimed he was of the Prophet's (peace be upon him) line, a Qurayshi. This made him the object of great sport for another such merchant named Jim al-Halburdi. Here is one such event:
Dwayt was in his home praying the evening prayer when a figure in white appeared behind him. The figure's face was hidden by a veil.
It spoke, "O'Dwayt! I am the angel Gabriel and I have come to reveal the final words of Allah's message!"
Dwayt was no fool and said, "This is some trickery! Muhammad, peace be upon him, was the last prophet and Allah's final words the Qu'ran. Reveal yourself Jim before I pull your veil from your face!"
The figure stood pat and said, "O'Dwayt do you not trust the words of Allah when you hear them? Muhammad was his prophet but are you not descendent from him? Allah fashioned the mountains which have roots in the earth, who created man and djinn, can he not do or undo what He pleases? O'Dwayt only a Qurayshi may deliver these final words."
Dwayt was unmoved, "Fine words O'Angel but if you are truly from Allah then you should know his words, lest you truly be Jim. Recite all the words God spoke without error and then I will listen."
The figure began reciting verse by verse the Qu'ran in its entirety. For two days and two nights the figure recited the holy words until the third night the figure finished.
"You truly are from God!" Dwayt exclaimed. He threw himself to his knees and wept. "What shall I do?" The angel replied, "Gather the townsfolk three days from now and take them to the well at noon. In the well you shall see Allah's message for you and mankind written inside." With that the candle blew out and darkness fell upon them. Dwayt lit his candle and the Angel was gone.
Dwayt the next morning went forth and spoke to the townsfolk. They were sceptical of the haughty Dwayt but were curious to see what foolishness this might be, so all agreed to gather at the well at the appointed hour.
So the days passed until the noon of the third day and all had gathered at the well including Jim.
Dwayt spoke, "Three days ago an Angel spoke to me and said, O'Dwayt, descendant of the Prophet, peace be upon him, I have given you a message for all mankind. Go to the well with the townsfolk in three days time for I will have a message written in the well for all. Now is this time."
Dwayt took a torch and peeked deep into the well. Dwayt screamed and raged in the well.
"Nobody may look in the well!" He commanded.
"But what is the message?" Asked Jim.
"Indeed by Allah tell us O'Qurayshi!" said the townsfolk.
"It is a prank by a prankster, Jim!" cried Dwayt. "Look away!"
Jim said, "Do you mean to say God did not speak to you and you were fooled, or has God written a truth that you are ashamed of? Come let us see Allah's message."
Dwayt did not answer for shame and anger and walked away to his house where he did not emerge for seven days and seven nights.
So all the town's people from the very young to the very old, rich to poor, women and men, beggars, servants, and merchants all lined up, and peeked into the well to read Allah's message to mankind written in the well of al-Skrantaan: Dwayt al-Shrood is a sodomite.
Over lunch, Dwight has a conversation with his coworker Jim about the camera crews that will be coming to their office in Scranton to shoot a documentary about Tom, a depressed coworker of theirs who killed himself, and how it impacted the office culture. Neither of them think highly of the documentary, especially because they know their boss will try to hijack it into a parody of self-aggrandizing behavior. Jim pitches that they should lean into that—play up their personalities for the camera until the crew decides to make the documentary instead about their weird office culture. Dwight likes the idea—they already have a friendly rivalry, with Jim pranking him every so often, and that'll be catnip for the cameras. Jim will up the effort of the pranks and Dwight will sell them with his intense frustrations. Both men find the idea hilarious and know that Michael is too self-absorbed to realize this behavior is off.
The camera crew arrives and, as planned, Jim plays up his impishness and Dwight becomes comically affronted and sycophantic, his outrage pairs with Jim mugging for the camera like a prepared comedy routine. The crew, unaware of how obviously they're being played, loves it, and especially with Michael, they easily decide to abandon the suicide angle. Dwight and Jim enjoy taking the documentarians for a ride, but at some point, Dwight realizes that they keep going further and further... and stranger in their prank on the documentarians. The pranks go further, the situations at work become more absurd, and Dwight didn't really think a lot of these were his and Jim's doing, particularly as their fellow co-workers also start playing things up for the camera. Worse, people start disappearing. Long time co-workers just... stop showing up and nobody even comments on them. Were they ever there? Where would their desks even have fit? And the cameras don't leave—in fact, they start following them more than ever. How much footage do they need, what is this documentary even about and how does the office keep changing?
Jim can't take it anymore and transfers out, but, of course, the cameras follow him to Stamford where it's only a matter of time before he's drawn back to Scranton. Through bizarre and comical circumstances, of course. Many new coworkers come to Scranton in the merger, but they are swiftly whittled down, and Dwight can't help but think it was because the documentarians didn't want them. One of them leaves for a while, then comes back with a new personality and character, one much wackier and more likable to the cameras. Jim and Pam get married as Dwight realizes nobody seems to have relationships outside the office anymore. He's sleeping with Angela, Michael finds love with an HR rep, and Andy's interested in Erin who's also interested in various other men, all of whom are coworkers.
This isn't normal. This isn't natural. It's not right. And the cameras are to blame. Dwight goes to confront them, but realizes that the cameras have become such a background presence in his life, they've become difficult to actually perceive. For years, they've followed him, at work, in his love life, even in his home, and they've become just an invisible, omnipresent perspective, the all-powerful observer of Foucault, or how a young Dwight imagined God.
He attends an all-hands meeting to learn about Dunder-Mifflin/Sabre's new Space Program. How does this relate to a paper company? It doesn't matter—the cameras love it. There is a drawing, and Dwight is selected to be their first Mifflonaut (Kevin came up with the name). Heading to the front of the room, Dwight feels a sharp lance of pain nanoseconds before the hideous CLANK of a bear trap snapping shut on his leg. He winces in comical pain—he can't even express pain correctly anymore—as he turns to Jim, mugging for the-
Wait. That's it! The cameras- the only proof of the cameras is when Jim mugs for them, telling Dwight exactly where they are! In a bellow of rage, Dwight leaps at the monsters who've warped and distorted their lives, using his friend's sight as a guide, and as his fingers close around plastic, he knows he is victorious, seizing the camera from the hands of what he now sees is a terrified and bewildered man. But only for a moment. Because Dwight takes the camera and bashes it down, again and again, until all that's left is a bloody pulp where the man's face used to be. The rest of the crew screams in horror, but now that they are perceived once more, the rest of the office rises up, bellowing in rage. Stanley screams for his marriage, undone by uncharacteristic infidelity to create a hokey plot. Pam grabs a boom mic operator by the neck, strangling him as she demands to know why she couldn't become an artist. Merideth vents her fury for all the pain she's endured by inflicting even more upon the men who were once gods to this office.
Soon, they're all dead. All of them. But somehow, Dwight suspects, there will be no police investigation, no prosecution for murder. Oscar and Angela help bandage his wounded leg while Phyllis helps Kevin come to terms with suddenly regaining forty IQ points. But the pain is nothing, a small price for freedom. Jim comes over, offering his sincere apologies, but Dwight shakes his head. "If you hadn't... I'd never have known where they were." He grins. Jim, his friend and coworker, smiles back, seeming for the first time in nearly a decade to be the man Dwight knew again. "I guess the real prank was on them!" he adds, and Dwight laughs, giddy from his victory.
But his laughter doesn't last. Not for long. Because Dwight sees something horrible, something that tells him that his nightmare is not yet over.
He watches as Jim mugs for a new camera.
Jim joins forces with Dwight's other enemies and creates the Dwight Revenge Squad.
Gorfulax the Ravenous, who Dwight bested in a game of wits to save the Earth, demands that Jim reveal his ultimate prank to finish Dwight. Jim tells him to relax for a moment and leads the room in a trust building exercise. The group gets along well, even the Anti-Dwight (a bizarre version of Dwight from a parallel universe) and The Queen of Spiders (whose plan to devour half of humanity was stopped by Dwight) seem to be getting along swimmingly.
Mechano Mouth, a giant robot designed only to eat, suggests that they gang up on Dwight quickly and end things before he realizes they've joined forced. Mor-Jack the Molten Man, King of the Sun, concurs. He absent-mindedly rubs his containment suit in the spot where Dwight's mighty blade had punctured it in their last duel.
Jim leads everyone into the massive teleportation room (really more of an auditorium to accommodate Mechano Mouth and The Living Phone (the physical manifestation of every phone call ever made) and says he'll pull the switch to teleport everyone to the farm. Instead, when he pulls the switch the entire Dwight Revenge Squad is assaulted with lasers, poisonous gases, acid, and explosions.
Jim stands among the dead and smiles smugly to the camera he installed to film it all. He is Dwight's true rival, Dwight's only enemy. He is opposite side of the coin to Dwight, far more than Anti-Dwight could ever hope to be. Jim begins the long process of cleaning up, for he has his ultimate prank planned for the next day.
The next day, Jim says "Good morning there, MIKE!" instead of Dwight, then smiles smugly at the camera.
Dwight calls for help after being badly pranked by Jim.
"Help!" he cries "Noman is pranking me!"
Jim emails around a brochure for a conference. It's going to be trade show, and several major law firms, universities, and other paper-intensive organizations will be there shopping for new suppliers on office equipment, including paper. Jim claims that he can't go due to "Captain Crunchitis", so someone else will go in his stead. Stanley and Dwight are chosen. They book flights, a shared hotel room for three nights, and a taxi to the airport. Dwight is looking forward to a few prank-free days on the road, even with a grump like Stanley. When they arrive at the hotel, they check in , have dinner, and retire to their room. Dwight is comically over-prepared, and brought ear muffs to help him sleep despite Stanley's snoring. They form an unlikely friendship, and the next morning head down in to the hotel ballroom, ready to take on the world. Except that there is no conference. The place is empty. Dwight's cell rings; it's Jim.
"Enjoying the conference, Dwight?" asks a smug voice.
"What's going on? What happened to the conference? Are you behind this?" asks Dwight.
"I made it up! The entire thing! The email, the website, everything! It was a prank!"
Dejected, Dwight and Stanley cancel the rest of their reservations, forfeiting half of the deposit and take a cab to the airport. Changing their tickets costs another few hundred dollars, and they've wasted three full business days by the time they get back. By the time their plane arrives back in Wilkes-Barre Scranton International Airport, it is well past midnight, and a rainstorm makes the walk (nearly a mile) to the rental car agency almost unbearable. Soaking wet, exhausted, and sad; Dwight drops off Stanley and takes the rental car home.
The next day, Dwight has to wake up extra early, drop the rental car back off at the airport, and take the bus back to his farm. From there, he gets in his thunderbird, drives to work, and drags himself through the front entrance to his desk. The worst part is that he knows Michael will never punish his favorite court jester. There wasn't even anything clever about this. This was just callous and spiteful waste. Jim mugs the camera.
Jim buys a car of the same make and model of Dwight's. He pays a few thousand dollars to get it repainted the same color.
When Dwight gets to the office, Jim lojacks the door and steals everything and puts it in his duplicate car in the same place, which he then drives around for a few hours to get the mileage exactly the same. He takes the plates as well.
He puts up a fake handicap sign on the parking spot and has Dwight's car towed. Then he removes the sign and parks his own duplicate in the same spot.
Now when Dwight gets off work his keys don't work. What a loser nerd.
Jim pays off the US National Debt with a credit card in Dwight's name
The soda machine keeps stealing Dwight’s money and he can’t figure out how Jim made it happen. Everyone keeps Dwight to let it go, Jim isn’t doing it. But Dwight can’t shake the feeling that this is part of Jim’s plan. Somehow, Jim keeps making the machine jam, because it only does so when Dwight is buying sodas.
Dwight starts watching Jim every time he goes into the break room. It escalates to Dwight hacking into the surveillance cameras and watching hours of break room footage. One day Dwight snaps when the machine jams for the hundredth time dropping his Pepsi and attacks the soda machine with a fire hammer. He breaks it to pieces, looking for the reason it isn’t giving him soda. “KEVIN. JUST. BOUGHT. ONE!” he screams as he hacks the machine to pieces. “IVE. TRIED. EVERY. BUTTON!”
Of course the machine had been untampered with, and the soda company charges Dunder Mifflin for the machine. Michael doesn’t subtract it from Dwight’s pay, but he makes Dwight fetch sodas for everyone on staff for the six weeks it takes to replace the machine. Jim abuses the entire time, asking for lime-flavored, or Baja blast Mountain Dew, all kinds of things that make Dwight run all over town for weeks.
In closed room confessional, Jim smirks at the camera and admits that he truly never tampered with the machine. “I just replaced all of Dwight’s quarters with fakes.” he finishes smugly.
Dwight casually asks Jim for the paperwork on an order that was processed last week. In actuality, Jim has been falsifying records of his sales for the past three months because he "needed more time for pranks", and is now very close to being discovered because none of his accounts are adding up. In a frenzy and with a suspicious squeak to his voice, he says "Sure thing, Dwight! I... uh... just need to find it! It's uh... buried under all the other sales records I've made this month." Dwight nods and goes back to his work trying to balance the month's accounts. "Sure, Jim," he replies, "Just get me the sales record when you ferret it out."
The next morning, Jim fills his Jetta's trunk, passenger seat, entire rear row up to the ceiling with caged ferrets. The musk stench is incredible, and Jim gags while driving to work. He shows up late, and Dwight asks if he's found the sales paperwork yet. Jim's eyes go wide and he speaks with unusual rapidity, "Wow buddy, you just aren't gonna let that one go are you, wow, well, okay, sure. I mean, it sounds important, I guess, and sure, you of course need it." Jim takes a breath. "Perhaps you could come out to my car? Help me.... ferret out... the papers?"
Dwight shakes his head. "The records were duplicated automatically. Accounting has a copy. Can you just look there?"
Jim's stomach turns and his veins run cold. He didn't realize there were other records. With a forced smirk but waves of fear coursing through his body, Jim numbly walks over to accounting. He spends three hours searching for the "missing" files with Angela and Oscar. They can't figure out why Jim's papers are missing, but all the others seem to be properly stored. Jim heads back to Dwight, who starts to pull open filing drawers and works with Jim to find the missing sales records. Jim suggests a few more times that they might be in his car, but Dwight dismisses this. Finally, Dwight loops in Michael about the apparent paperwork loss, who in turn reports it up to Corporate. Jim's house of cards is now inevitably going to topple.
The day is over, and everyone wasted it looking for non-existent papers to confirm Jim's falsified sales records. Jim knows that he's about to be fired, or worse, as soon as the deception is uncovered. When he sits down in his car, the stench of musk is overwhelming. The heat in the closed car also killed all of the ferrets.
After hearing Dwight talk about the new Animal Crossing game for Switch, Jim threatens to have his "uncle at Nintendo" cancel the game to get back at Dwight for stealing his second biggest client. (In reality Jim ignored several phonecalls from the client - telling Dwight that he keeps pranker's hours - and finally the frustrated client called Dwight, begging for someone to sell them paper). Dwight scoffs at Jim and goes on with his day.
Two weeks later Sam Halpert, Vice President at Nintendo, cancels the game.
While driving to work, Dwight discovers a tiny bald eagle by the side of the road with a damaged wing.
Dwight attempts to call animal control, but the eagle quickly bonds with him and decides to hang on to his shoulder. When animal control arrives, they remark that the best thing is to let the eagle remain comfortable with Dwight and give him the instructions on how to properly care for the bird and help treat its wing.
Over the next 3 months, Dwight nurses the eagle back to life, eventually naming him "Little Champion" and coming to the tearful realization that they will eventually need to part ways once Little Champion is fully healed.
In the office, Jim keeps trying to touch Little Champion, but is constantly screeched and clawed at by the animal. When Dwight explains that you can't touch most animals, an irate Jim vows revenge on the bird. That evening, Dwight finds Jim attempting to break into Schrute Farms with a large frying pan and a shirt that says "I LOVE EGGS". Dwight explains that Little Champion doesn't lay eggs, but a confused Jim just keeps pointing at his shirt. Little Champion, sensing distress, flies at Jim and viciously claws his face until Jim flees into the night.
Dwight realizes that Little Champion is now fully healed and ready to begin his life in the outside world. The next day, he drives Champ out to a beautiful meadow where they used to chase each other and watch the clouds float by. Dwight tells Little Champion that he's free to roam the world now, on wings made of dreams and love. He tells his beloved bird to come by and visit him sometime, and to one day bring his children and grandchildren by.
On some deep, primal level Little Champion understands all of this. He takes a graceful bow to Dwight and takes off into the air, swooping around in several tight circles as Dwight begins to cheer while tears stream down his cheeks.
The next day, Jim shows up to work with a parrot he has named "Little Fucker".
"Hey Dwight, look who has his OWN bird, now! One that actually produces eggs! Weird tasting, small eggs, but eggs all the same! And, get this, he can TALK!"
"Squawk squawk TALK squawk squawk Jim why can't you get it up any more? Squawk squawk!"
Jim turns beet red and quickly tries to shuffle out of the office with the bird.
"Squawk squawk Jim you know 2 inches isn't normal! Squawk do you need me to to dress as Dwight again? Squawk squawk Jim we can't take a fourth mortgage out squawk!"
As Jim is clawed by the unruly bird he's trying to force out the front door, Dwight looks out the window and sees a majestic eagle silhouetted against the morning sun. Dwight lifts a hand in greeting and, for just a moment, he swears the eagle lifts a wing back at him in recognition.
"Squawk squawk Roy never had this problem squawk stop pretending we don't need therapy squawk squawk!"
Jim pranks Dwight by pouring itching powder down his back, and it's the last straw. After years of abuse, Dwight stands up for himself, calling Jim out as a bully in front of the entire office. To Dwight's surprise, Jim agrees. He asks, wouldn't you like to get a little revenge? Dwight usually isn't one to hold a grudge, but the fury is still fresh in his mind. Why sure, why not get a little revenge.
Jim leads Dwight back into the annex, where he has constructed a time machine. He punches exact coordinates, and a green glowing portal opens up in the middle of the room. Jim hands him a whoopee cushion, and instructs him to put it on the yellow chair. Dwight nods and steps into the portal.
Dwight is in a classroom, it's hard to say when. It's empty; No students, no teacher. His eyes fix on a yellow chair. Just as he places the whoopee cushion on it, the school bell rings. Dwight hides in the closet. The entire class bounds in, happy and full of energy from recess. Last of all comes a sickly boy, pale and frail, with a familiar mop of unkempt hair. As he pulls out the yellow chair, a look of horrible realization spreads across Dwight's face. "No!!!" he screams, breaking open the closet door, but it is too late. Young Jim has already sat down, and the noise of a fart has erupted from beneath him. The whole class laughs at Jim, their punching bag, and hot tears of embarrassment streak down his face. "Nooooo!!!" Dwight screams again, and Jim looks up. "It was you!" He points to the man in the glasses and mustard shirt, now disappearing in a swirling green vortex of energy. Jim would never forget him.
Dwight returns to the future, and looks at Jim, horrified. Jim smirks, but his eyes are empty. Dwight weeps.
It’s mid-afternoon, still early for a drink, but the wanderer orders one just the same.
The Last Stop Saloon is a modest place, with faded red paint peeling off the walls, creaking floorboards that hadn’t been swept in a fortnight, and an ancient jukebox in the corner that can blast the first third of Don’t Stop Believin’ before sputtering out. Most folks out here in New Scranton don’t touch it, sick as they are of its one tune, but the wanderer plunked a coin in it and sits now, listening, a distant look in his eyes.
“Here you go,” Clebb, the bartender, says, sliding a tin cup full of piss-yellow whiskey the wanderer’s way. Like everyone else in town, Clebb’s dying to know the old man’s story. The rumors have been flying ever since he rode in… that he’s veteran of The Final Wars, that he serves The Smirking Man, that he’s old enough to remember The World Before. Clebb doesn’t buy any of that, not really, but he still wants to know more. “What brings you to town?”
“Just passin’ through,” the wanderer answers, raising the cup to his lips. His features are ancient, hardened, tanned skin like worn leather, a pair of beady dark eyes set into a scarred skull. A black duster hangs around him like a shadow, and as the wanderer shifts in his seat, Clebb can get a peak down to the man’s hips, where a massive chrome six-shooter, the biggest Clebb’s ever seen, rests in a leather holster, with a single word inscribed along in gold along its barrel..
MOSE
“Passin’ through,” Clebb repeats. “Yeah, that’s what most folks are doing these days. Ever since the--”
But he never finishes the sentence, because the saloon’s doors swing open.
There is a chill in the air, the kind of chill you feel at the very base of your spine, the kind of chill that makes every hair on your body stand on end. The wanderer freezes, the cup still against his lips, and something dances across his eyes, something equal parts fear and rage.
Another stranger stands in the doorway, this one young, handsome in a boyish way, with soft features and a floppy mess of brown hair. He’s dressed oddly, in dark slacks, a blue buttoned shirt and a narrow tie, and he strolls into the tavern with a warm smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Dwight Schrute,” he says to the wanderer, and something about him makes Clebb’s skin crawl and his stomach roil. “I have been searching for you for quite some time.”
“Welcome friend,” Clebb begins, “Can I get you something to dr--”
The stranger’s eyes flash to Clebb. His hand flits, just the tiniest bit. Clebb freezes in place, gasping, and then all the blood vessels burst in his eyes and he collapses to the ground, writhing, flailing, as hundreds of beetles swarm out from his lips.
The old man at the bar doesn’t react. He just finishes his whiskey, sets the cup down, and closes his eyes with a resigned sigh. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You know I did,” the stranger, Jim Halpert, replies. He strides forward across the room, the wan red light dancing across his features, and Dwight doesn’t even have to look at him to know he hasn’t aged a goddamn day. “I’ve missed you, old friend.”
“I haven’t missed you,” Dwight growls. There is a bitterness in his tone, a hatred that runs colder than the frozen plains of Los Angeles. “How’d you find me?”
“The Eyes of The Smirking Man see all,” Jim says with a sly grin and a dramatic twirl of his hands. “You did put up quite a good chase, though, I’ll give you that.” He takes another step, close enough now that Dwight can smell him. “What do you say? Shall we go for a walk?”
“A walk?” Dwight turns in his seat, facing Jim at last. “And then what? You’ll tell me to sit on a log, but when I do it’s actually the mangled bodies of Oscar and Kevin? You’ll tell me to watch out for a bear, and when I go to get my bear-hunting gear, you’ve modified all the bears in the world to have eight arms and six jaws and an insatiable appetite for flesh? Or maybe you’ll tell me to take a look at the sky, and when I do you’ve blotted out the sun?”
“Oh come on,” Jim says with an affable shrug. “That one was funny…”
“You caused a famine that killed billions!” Dwight roars, any trace of composure lost in a torrent of pain and rage. “For what? For what?”
“Killed all the beets,” Jim replies.
Dwight slumps back against the bar, teeth gritted, brow knit in a mask of simmering fury. “We’ve been doing this dance for fifty years, Jim,” he snarls. “Fifty years, chasing each other across the globe. Fifty years of ‘jokes’, fifty years of chaos and bloodshed and madness.” He swallows hard, and for a second, his voice catches in his throat. “Your followers ate Toby. They ate him alive. You know that, right?”
Jim chuckles good-naturedly. “Classic Toby.”
Dwight shakes his head. “No, Jim,” he says, “I don’t think I’ll be going for that walk.” And his hand drifts down, just the smallest bit, to his duster, to the revolver resting against his side. Does Jim know, Dwight wonders, about the Godkiller bullet inside, the bullet coated in the last drops of Michael’s blood? Does he know what it can do?
Does he know to be afraid?
“What is this?” Jim asks. “What are you doing?”
“For once, old friend,” Dwight says, and his cracked lips twist into a smile. “I think the last laugh will be mine.”
His hand moves, lighting fast, faster than any hand has ever moved, for his gun…
And finds it encased in Jell-o.
There is a scream, and a smirk, and a flash of hot light.
And then there is only silence.
A reporter for the Scranton Times shows up at Schrute Farms and knocks on the door. Angela, now in her late 60s, opens the door.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry to intrude. But I'm a reporter and I thought I might speak with you. You know, with it being the anniversary and all. Since you knew him better than anyone."
Angela hesitates for a moment, then motions for the man to come inside.
"Coffee? Tea? Beet juice?" she says, kindly. "Dwight left behind quite a variety of beets, you know. Why, one of them taste like the finest sparkling wine you could imagine."
"Just coffee is fine, thank you. Listen, I'm sorry if this seems blunt, but I was hoping to learn a little more about Dwight. Who he was, how he came to be, and..."
"And how he died?" adds Angela, pouring a cup of coffee. "I thought that was pretty common knowledge at this point."
Angela hands the reporter a cup of coffee, then pours herself a glass of beet juice and sits down on the living room couch. The room is immaculate. Several pictures of Angela and Dwight adorn the walls, and various keepsakes cover every shelf. The reporter also notices pictures of another man with Angela. Including one with Angela in a wedding dress. He catches himself staring.
"My husband. Third, actually. I was married to a State Senator before Dwight," Angela takes a sip of her beet juice. "and before you ask, my husband is fine with me having been married to Dwight."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything. It's just that..."
"He's a tough act to follow?"
A deep voice comes bellowing from the staircase. A blonde, muscular man with streaks of grey in his beard walks down the steps. He's carrying an unfinished wooden chair in one arm and a jar of stain in the other.
"Sorry to butt in, folks, just passing through! I'm Calvin, by the way, nice to meet you."
Calvin and Angela share a quick kiss and Calvin shakes hands with the reporter before heading outside to stain his chair. Angela watches him and waves as he closes the door behind him, then turns her attention back on the reporter.
"Dwight's been gone for 15 years now. 15 years today. Calvin... Calvin was there when I needed him. We have a good life, and I hope whatever article you're writing here isn't designed to upset that."
"No no no, please, this is a celebration of Dwight. He... he saved my life once. I was swimming too far out in Lake Scranton, my parents weren't paying attention and I went under. I blacked out but the next thing I knew, Dwight was pulling me onto the shore. He'd been delivering presents to the orphanage and happened to see me go under. The uh... the weird thing was his clothes were dry when he got me on the shore. Like he'd never touched the water somehow. I was hoping, just maybe, you could explain that. The things like that, I mean."
"Dwight was, well, a lot of things," Angela offers the reporter another cup of coffee, which he declines. "And that gets more complicated as time goes on. That statue of him in front of Town Hall? They asked me what I wanted the inscription to say. I had no idea, it was like asking someone to summarize a thousand years of history in one sentence. But you've read the inscription, right?"
"To Dwight, our greatest friend."
"That's it. Would you believe Calvin came up with that? I completely blanked, not a single idea seemed right. But that worked. It was to the point, it was beautiful. It was... Dwight."
"Listen, I don't want to keep you for too long. And I don't want to offend you, so I can leave right now if you want. But can you tell me about the day he died? I mean, we've all read the accounts, but you were there. You, Dwight, and..."
"And Jim. Yes. Looking back, I think Dwight knew something was going to happen. Jim had been getting more erratic with his pranks. Sometimes he'd prank Toby or Creed. One time we found him pranking a bunch of squirrels in the yard. So nobody was THAT surprised when Pam explained that he had a brain tumor. One that was going to kill him. A side effect of the time he stole a bunch of nuclear waste and tried to put it in Dwight's coffee. Jim took a leave of absence from work but his pranks kept coming. And then came the night he took over every TV station in Scranton."
"Halpert's Night. I was 10 years old and I remember my parents both being terrified. Jim was on the television for hours, talking about the secret lives of everyone in Scranton. Turning neighbor against neighbor, husband against wife. I thought it was the end of the world."
"Jim knew he was going to die. He was a true psychopath by that point, maybe he always had been. But by that point he thought a world without him wasn't a world that deserved to exist. Dwight and I were working at the soup kitchen when the broadcast started. And I remember Dwight pouring one last bowl of wedding soup, setting down the ladle, and then walking towards the door. He told me he had to stop this, and I rushed over to him. I asked why it always had to be him, why someone else couldn't handle Jim. And Dwight held me close, kissed me, and said that he'd be back in time to serve dessert. But, of course, he never came back."
"I'm sorry. We all loved him so much and we barely knew him. I can't imagine what it was like for you."
"I watched him stride across the parking lot and bring his fingers to his lips to whistle. Little Champion glided down. Of course, by that time he wasn't really 'little' any more. Dwight climbed onto his back and they took off into the air towards the TV station. And that was the last time I ever saw Dwight. I watched the footage like everyone else. Jim, covered in flames, bursting out of that warehouse. Dwight racing to stop him. And then, the explosion that took both of them. But nobody else was hurt, can you believe it? Not a single soul. They told me later that Dwight must have disarmed thousands of bombs, but nobody knows how he could have pulled it off. But that was Dwight, mysterious to the end."
They both sit in silence for a moment until the clinking of an ice cube in her beet juice stirs Angela from her memories. She again offers the reporter a refresh of his coffee, but he just sits there.
"Little Champion flew around the city for days, searching for Dwight. I think that was the saddest part for me. I knew Dwight was dead, they brought me his remains. But Little Champion kept hoping he survived somehow. We had a private funeral a little bit after that, and Champion settled near Dwight's headstone and silently stood guard for a long time."
"And Jim? I heard that they were never totally able to identify his remains. Have you ever worried that he might come back?"
"No. At the end, Jim was driven by something deep and twisted, something that he attributed to Dwight. I think Dwight knew that, too. I think it hurt him a lot, to realize that Jim's evil was somehow inspired by him. Of course, that's not true, but Dwight always had a big heart and took on more responsibility than he should have. But Jim, whatever he was in the end, is dead. He has no reason to exist without Dwight."
The reporter thanks Angela for her time and steps outside. As he's leaving, Calvin catches up to him.
"Sorry to bother you, but I do have one little request. When you write this article, IF you write this article, don't make Angela out to be someone who's moved on from Dwight. You don't even have to mention me. I've accepted my role in this story, I'm always a distant second to Dwight. Hell, who wouldn't be?" Calvin shakes hands with the reporter one last time. "Actually, while I have you, do you like beets juice? Dwight bred this hybrid, the thing takes just like a sparkling wine, it's incredible! Take a bottle home, trust me, we've got gallons of the stuff in the beet cellar."
"No, that's fine, but thank you. Have a nice evening, Calvin."
The reporter drives off with his notes on the passenger seat. The article will never be written, but the encounter with the former Mrs. Schrute (now Mrs. Adama) inspires him for the rest of his life. Calvin heads back inside, sits down beside his wife, and places an arm around her.
"He didn't want any sparkling beet juice. I'm really proud of that stuff, you know, but people never seem to want to try it."
"Dwight could have sold it. Do you remember the time he sold more paper in a day than an entire website?"
"How could I forget? As I recall, he was trying to win you back at that point."
"And as I recall, Andy serenaded me over the phone with his acapella group. It was a busy day."
"Well, Dwight won out in the end, I'd say. Until I came around, of course."
"But of course."
Angela and Calvin Adama head upstairs. Calvin, who has a fondness for mustard yellow shirts, pauses for a second.
"The last name's not too obvious, is it? He's not going to figure it out?"
"Please. Nobody's watched that show in ages. And it's much better than you first suggestion. What was it again, Recyclops?"
"Hey, I still stand by that one. Calvin Recyclops. It rolls off the tongue."
As the couple closes their bedroom door, Calvin winks at the camera.
One morning, a man in a mustard yellow shirt shows up to the office and everyone falls silent, looking up from their work. Jim does a double take when he looks up from his desk and sees that the man appears to be Dwight's exact double! "Hey everyone," says the doppelganger, "did you miss me?"
The entire office erupts into a cheer, "Balloon boy!!!" and soon they're all rushing to greet him.
"I'm sorry I had to leave after only a month, but life threw a lot of lemons my way." the stranger explains. He walks over to Dwight and pulls him into a friendly side-hug. "I really have to thank Cousin Dwight for filling in for me."
Jim glances back and forth between Dwight and his double. No, he realizes, they're not quite identical. In fact, the more that he looks at them side by side, the more differences he notices. Their face structure, their smile. Even their eyes are a different color. Only an idiot would get these two men confused. Only a complete and utter idiot! He feels a pit opening up in his stomach.
"It's great to have you back, Balloon Boy." says Michael, shaking his hand. "And don't worry, Dwight's done a great job of filling in for you. In fact he's done such a good job that I think at least one of us never even noticed that you left!"
The entire office erupts into uproarious laughter as they turn to face a shaking, sweating Jim.
Jim has to be taken to the hospital.
Phyllis finally has enough of Jim's pranks and decides to do something about it.
One morning, Jim is standing behind Dwight, pretending to control him like a puppet by holding a marionette cross-bar above his head. Jim keeps bumping into the back of Phyllis' chair during his antics, infuriating her for the last time. She stands up and grabs Jim by the back of his shoulders, slamming him forehead first into the corner of Dwight's file cabinet. Jim's floppy hair, however, is too dense and his head ricochets off the cabinet with such force that the recoil sends Phyllis flying backwards, crashing into her own computer desk.
Jim is completely unphased, and he continues to wiggle the cross bar above Dwight's head. Dwight rushes to Phyllis' side to make sure she's okay, and Jim follows gleefully, still pretending to puppeteer Dwight's every action.
Phyllis is unresponsive and bleeding out of her head. Dwight screams for help and tells Pam to call 9-1-1 as he starts performing CPR.
"Dance, balloon boy, dance!" Jim giggles as he mugs the camera.
After a disastrous fiscal quarter, Dunder Mifflin is looking to make major cuts in spending. One of the board members suggests that they fire the lowest performing salesman at each branch.
Jim is, of course, the worst performer at the Scranton branch. Michael and Toby ask him to join them in the conference room, where they explain that he's being fired.
"Oh, you're firing Jim Halpert? Well, what if I'm not Jim any more? What if I'm...Tim..." Jim looks around the room, desperate for a fake name. Michael cuts him off, saying that he doesn't need to go on, everyone knows where this bit is going. Jim stares at his hands for a moment.
"So just like that? I'm gone. I'm fired?"
Michael and Toby lead Jim outside. He is silent the entire time and slowly walks across the parking lot to his car. He drives home, where he collapses on the couch after closing all the blinds and curtains in his house.
"Now, people, we really need to prove to corporate that we're a high performing branch," adds Michael, "or else they're going to look for more cuts. And Andy, love ya pal, but you're on the chopping block."
Andy looks distressed and then quickly starts making phone calls.
Dunder Mifflin Corporate sees a new renaissance with Jim gone, nearly quadrupling their sales and effectively buoying the rest of the company through their profitability. Jim, meanwhile, overcomes his initial depression and changes his life entirely. He cuts his floppy hair, begins eating real food, and attends a Prankaholics Anonymous class. Jim overcomes his addiction and begins charity work around Scranton, inspired by Dwight. But, fearing a relapse, Jim avoids any interactions with his old coworkers.
18 months pass and Jim coincidently runs into Dwight at a soup kitchen they're both volunteering at. Dwight embraces his old coworker, saying how happy he is to see him and for the many positive changes Jim has made in his life.
"Yeah, you might say I souped up my life!"
Jim and Dwight laugh at this. Dwight is about to ask where Jim gets his hair cut but Jim hasn't stopped laughing. Tears are forming in his eyes and his laugh gets raspier and wheezier.
"SOUP, DWIGHT! I SOUPED UP MY LIFE!"
Jim tosses a bowl of clam chowder at Dwight's face, then dives into the kitchen. Jim dives into a massive pot of soup, covering his body in it. He bursts forth, crying. Jim has been reborn into this world, violently, his soupy placenta spraying everywhere.
The soup covered-Jim (it's wedding soup, by the way) rolls around on the floor, speaking in tongues. He stands up and begins to bend and twist, his joints letting out a series of horrific pops that sound like a firing squad. Jim tears at his hair, somehow PULLING it out of his scalp. It's floppy again, just the way he likes it. Jim's limbs twist and stretch to inhuman proportions, his body taking on its more traditional famine-stricken look. His eyes roll wildly in their sockets, examining everything in the room. They finally focus on Dwight. Jim mugs, his first mug in a long time. It feels good.
"Hey there, Balloon Boy! Thought you got rid of me, huh? Too bad!"
Jim runs away into the night, leaving Dwight alone with his thoughts. Dwight is racked with guilt over Jim's relapse.
"No, I planned it like that the whole time," Jim says in a talking head segment. "It's much funnier when I mess with Dwight's expectations like that."
Somebody fucked around with this message at 12:53 on Mar 18, 2024
|
#
?
Mar 18, 2019 08:51
