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Inexplicable Humblebrag posted:i preferred it when jim didn't do the deliberately lovely one-liners, to be honest. not sure why the Council of Jims issued the directive that they'd be doing that. So, there's a man crawling through the desert. He'd decided to try his Firebird in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun, and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the Firebird with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day, he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least three miles an hour, according to his watch for over ten hours. That means that if his estimate was right, he should be close to the town. Unfortunately, he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the Firebird. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills. That'll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He’s so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. The desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be in without water. Unless he finds water, he figures, this is his last day. He rinses out his mouth with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits for a while after spitting that little bit out to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way as yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that. He knows that when you stop sweating, you’re in trouble. It’s usually right before heat stroke.. He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him. If he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick: their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the Firebird - he remembers doing donuts in it, or at least he thinks he remembers it; he's getting woozy enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers anymore or if he's hallucinating. He thinks he remembers it, so he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure anymore. He's not even sure how long he's been walking anymore. Is it still morning? Has it moved into afternoon, and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon; it seems like it's been too long since he started out. He walks through the sand. After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't remember any dunes from when he was driving over the sand in his Firebird. At least he doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad. All the same, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that can help him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up, since he'll just fall down again. He keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert, crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. It would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes, but his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape - shake the sand out, give them a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his Firebird. This is Hell. Or close enough. Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle and starts removing the cap when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's a flat area, in the sand. He stops opening the bottle and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular, and it's dark: darker than the sand, and there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can't tell what it is, so he looks as hard as he can but still can't tell from here. He's going to have to go down there and look. He puts the bottle back into his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble; he's not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot that he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling. He stops at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it. Seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand still there, he crawls towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance. He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the dark area. It’s hard to focus, and lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling. Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it - a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is, so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area. His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface. Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he'll know he's gone. He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling. It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?" He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different: he rolls over and leans back trying to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time. Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle. And wrapped around this white rod is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, with a hovering tail and rattle seemingly prepared to start rattling, looking directly at him. He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it: his final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to move from this spot. Well, at least dying from a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and flicks it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes. Hmmm. Maybe the snake has no interest in biting him. It hasn't rattled yet - that’s a good sign. Maybe he isn't going to die of snake bite after all. He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here because he thought he'd heard a voice. He is still very woozy; he feels like he might pass out soon. The sun still beats down on him even though he is now on cool stone. He still doesn't have anything to drink. Although maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone doesn't look natural. Nor does that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone must have built this. Maybe they are still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake is even their pet, and that's why it isn't biting. He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but he’s too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There's no way he's going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls out the bottle, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't good. He doesn't have much time left by his reckoning before he passes out. He gets the bottle open, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now. He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?" He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?" He turns his head back towards the snake. That's where the sound seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help. "Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be thirsty anymore. I've been without water for a long time. Can you help me?" Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up." A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers: the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him. He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder again - it feels like his shirt has two holes in it - two puncture holes. They match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He has been bitten. By the snake. "It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy anymore. And more importantly, he's not thirsty anymore - at all! "Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?" "Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine." "You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty anymore? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty anymore? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?" "No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works, it's what I do. I bite. Plus I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here." The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst. "I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it." "Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little. "That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs. "But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously. "By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Jim used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Jim wouldn't stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake. "Umm, my name is Dwight," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Dwight Schrute." "Can I ask you a question?" Dwight says suddenly. "What happened to the poison...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that's how you work?" "That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets wider. "Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert. You've been changed. "For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin. "As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Dwight could tell, as Dwight was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell you." "Wait," joked Dwight, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd have to kill me?" "I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious. "Ummm...yeah." Dwight leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?" Dwight thought for a second. "And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?" "They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?" "Yeah, they do," said Dwight. "I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence. Dwight, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?" Well, Dwight," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back. "Umm, well, ok," said Dwight, "what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?" "Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Dwight was staring at him. "Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me." "Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Dwight. "And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not really a change to me?" "Right," nodded Nate. "Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Dwight asked, hopefully. "That takes two requests, Dwight." "Yeah, I figured so," said Dwight. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best paper salesman?" "Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very good at sales, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best paper salesman either. You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it." "Hmmm," said Dwight. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?" "Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had shoulders. "Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?" "No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that's how it works - the poison, you know," Nate said apologetically. Dwight winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Dwight feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it's fangs into you. Dwight stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Dwight tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn't hurt for long, Dwight knew that this wasn't going to be easy. "Hey, Dwight," Nate suddenly said, looking past Dwight towards the dunes behind him, "is that someone else coming up over there?" Dwight spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food? Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate... Dwight let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans... Dwight sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to hoodwink me like that." "I've been doing this a long time, Dwight," said Nate, confidently. "You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you - especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you'd heal quickly now." "Yeah, well, still," said Dwight, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or something instead?" "More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second." "Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear," answered Dwight. "Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?" "Just talk," said Dwight. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food." "We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like," answered Nate. "Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Dwight jumped up. "What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?" Dwight was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours. "I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Dwight was starting to get used to. "Ugh," said Dwight, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk." "Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start looking at me as food. Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. "You, Dwight, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden." Dwight looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate skeptically. "Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Dwight," said Nate. "Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose. Dwight stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the trunk to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving. Dwight walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky. Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh! Dwight looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said Dwight. "Which way is it back to Scranton? And how far? I'm eventually going to have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to." "It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Dwight could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Dwight." Dwight looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?" "Well, yeah, as best as I and Jim could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a 'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while." "Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Dwight. "How long have you been here, Nate?" "No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands of years, at least." "So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Dwight. "Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can't remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a 'temptation', though I've rarely had refusals." "Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?" asked Dwight. "Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've been here ever since. "What is this place?" said Dwight. "And what did he ask you to do?" "Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Dwight where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Dwight leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Dwight could see in the dim light. Dwight reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way. "You can't touch that yet, Dwight," said Nate. "Why not?" asked Dwight. "I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate. "Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Dwight. "You'd push it that way, and it would move in the slot." "Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate. "What does it do?" asked Dwight. "End the world?" "Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it 'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned. Dwight was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Dwight laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?" "Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought the voice I used was funny, didn't you?" Nate continued to grin. "A lever to end humanity?" asked Dwight. "What in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?" "Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Jim just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Jim and I had about why it's here. I didn't think to ask back when I started here." "Rules? What rules?" asked Dwight. "The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate. Dwight looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now? You'd let me end humanity?" "Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Dwight carefully. "Do you want to, Dwight?" "Umm, no." said Dwight, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldn't it?" "Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too." "Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Dwight. "Any of those bound to secrecy, that is?" "Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so I'm told. Jim considered it several times. He'd often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more. Dwight sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?" "That seems to be it," agreed Nate. "What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Dwight. "How do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?" "Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed to know." "But what if I get mad at someone? Or some I lose the Dunmore High account and feel horrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?" protested Dwight. Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to try your best, Dwight." Dwight sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail. Suddenly, Dwight turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Jim the one bound to this before me?" "Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago." "Sounds like a good guy," agreed Dwight. "How did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?" "Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like you're doing." "What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Dwight. "He asked me about the third request," replied Nate. "Aha!" It was Dwight's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?" "I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Dwight." "Hmmm." Dwight looked back out into the darkness for a while. Nate watched him, waiting. "Nate," continued Dwight, quietly, eventually. "What did Jim ask for with his third request?" Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, "Wisdom, Dwight. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him." "Ok," said Dwight, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it to me. Nate looked at Dwight's backside. "Give you what, Dwight?" "Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Jim asked for. If it helped him, maybe it'll help me too." Dwight turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?" "He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about." "Well, yeah, I can see that," said Dwight. "So, give it to me." Dwight turned to face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up. Nate watched Dwight tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Dwight now, Dwight would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both. "You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Dwight?" asked Nate, shifting position. "Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Dwight, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice. "And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?" "Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Dwight, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there. With the moonlight Dwight could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it. Dwight heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock. Dwight sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been recently bitten. Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that he was still awake. Occasionally Dwight, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around. "Nate, do accidents count?" Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Dwight?" Dwight tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?" "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Dwight. I'd suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement. A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Dwight. "That's the rule, Dwight. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate. "No," Dwight shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?" "Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated you could get. Jim thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared." "Wow," said Dwight, "Cool." Dwight leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky. "Nate, how long did Jim live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?" asked Dwight. "Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Dwight." "Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?" "He died of getting tired of living, Dwight," Nate said, sounding somewhat sad. Dwight turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight. Nate looked back. "Jim knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway. "His daughters and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn't stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me he'd had enough. It was his time." "And then he just died?" asked Dwight. Nate shook his head a little. "He made his fourth request, Dwight. There's only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite. After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had. After another pause, Nate finished, "Jim's body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise." Dwight lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Dwight's breathing evened out into sleep.
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Sep 6, 2022 15:09
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| # ¿ May 14, 2024 19:43 |
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Dwight woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat. So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Dwight started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made it back easily. Dwight caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Dwight had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the Firebird. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Dwight was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate's lever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it. Before the next weekend, Dwight had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his Firebird back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Dwight headed back to see Nate. Dwight parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of, and shouldn't really raise suspicions. Dwight had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but that he had things to do first. Over four months later Dwight was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Dwight hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite. After that Dwight could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year. After the first year, Dwight quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile any more. Dwight went back to school. Eventually, Dwight started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Dwight bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings. But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally. On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Dwight's best guess was that Nate was still missing Jim, and though Dwight had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace Jim in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didn't even speak when Dwight walked up to the lever. He nodded at Dwight, and then went back to staring into the desert. Dwight, respecting Nate's silence, sat down and waited. After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Dwight, I have someone to introduce you to." Dwight looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Dwight looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy? "No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son." Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Jimmy!" Dwight watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever. "Yo, Dwight," said the new, much smaller snake. "Yo, Jimmy" replied Dwight. Dwight looked at Nate. "Named after Jim, I assume?" Nate nodded. "Dwight, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Jimmy around for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Jim first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been. "He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Dwight?" Dwight nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Dwight didn't even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Dwight could sense that was something more. Nate looked at Jimmy. Jimmy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Dwight. Nice to meet ya!" Jimmy slithered back over the dune and out of sight. Nate watched Jimmy disappear and then looked back at Dwight. "Dwight, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement." Dwight considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?" Nate shook his head. "No, Dwight - you're a better guesser than that. You've already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die." Dwight looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this - probably for quite a while. Dwight had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Dwight could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Dwight could understand Jim's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Dwight said was, "What do you want me to do?" Nate nodded. "Thanks, Dwight. I only want two things. One - show Jimmy around the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here and take over. Two - give me the fourth request. "I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Jimmy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be able to die. And I need you to kill me. "I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword. Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Jimmy had gone behind. "I'd say an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me. "You willing to do that for me, Dwight?" Nate turned back to look at Dwight. "Yeah, Nate," replied Dwight solemnly, "I think I can handle that." Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Jimmy! Dwight's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Dwight." Dwight didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Jimmy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Jimmy following. Over the next several years Jimmy and Dwight kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Jimmy had a natural gift for languages, as Dwight expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Dwight in a few of the countries. Dwight managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Jimmy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and stories followed Dwight and Jimmy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general. When they finished the tour of countries, Dwight suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Jimmy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Dwight was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Dwight probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Jimmy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances. So, Jimmy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and told Dwight that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Dwight, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate. When they got back to the US, Dwight got the old RV out of storage where he and Jimmy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Jimmy and the sword, and they headed for the desert. When they got to the small town that Dwight had been trying to find those years ago when he'd met Nate, Dwight was in a funk. He didn't really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark. As Dwight was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Dwight would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight. Dwight told Jimmy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert. Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Dwight had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Dwight didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Dwight started to regret that he'd decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Dwight was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Jimmy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Dwight's driving. As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Dwight saw that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Dwight put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side. Dwight tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumped the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster. Dwight felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for it. If Dwight didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity. Dwight steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn't working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Dwight realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away. Dwight took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn just right. The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Dwight looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Dwight noticed something else that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Dwight had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Dwight was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side. Dwight had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Jimmy and saw that Jimmy realized the same thing. Dwight took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Jimmy as he pulled the steering wheel, "Better Nate than lever!", he ran over the snake.
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Sep 6, 2022 15:10
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Dwight arrives to work to find a 10,000 word manuscript on his desk. Dwight reaches down to pull off a yellow sticky note. "Dwight, I'm assigning you the Scranton Zoo account, snake division. Brush up on this before lunch. - Michael" Dwight groans as he flips through the 37 page document, and he gets to work. Three hours later, Dwight arrives at the punchline, and he realizes he's been had. His tired eyes look up and he catches Jim mugging the camera.
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Sep 6, 2022 21:21
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Applewhite posted:Jim eats a bunch of saltines in Dwight's bed so that Dwight's sheets are itchy. Dwight wakes up and gasps. "JIM what are you doing in my bed!?" Jim crumbles the remaining saltines and throws them into Dwight's face, and mutters "pocket sand" and leaps for the window. The glass shatters and Jim's bloody naked body falls three stories, his landing is cushioned by a pile of manure. Undeterred, Jim mugs for the camera as he limps away. Dwight is left confused and itchy.
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Sep 7, 2022 01:23
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Jim gives Dwight the Lament Configuration and encourages Dwight to solve the fun puzzle. Dwight inadvertantly summons cenobites to the Scranton office.
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Sep 7, 2022 14:35
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Jim and Dwight are seated next to each other on a flight to the Utica office for a big regional conference. While still at the gate, Dwight gets up to use the rest room before boarding is finished. Jim notices Dwight left his cell in the seat back pocket and dials 911 and says "Hi I'm Dwight Schrute and I'm about to blow up this bathroom on flight AA420 and I have a big stinky butt!" 10 minutes later, US Air Marshalls raid the plane and drag Dwight out by his hair while he frantically kicks his legs and screams. His pants catch on a nail and his pants get pulled down revealing his underwear. 6 months later the "Big Stinky Butt Bomber" as he's been nicknamed by the media is sentenced to 18 months in prison and placed on the terrorist watch list.
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Sep 8, 2022 17:43
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Navy seaman Jim gets assigned to the U.S.S. Donald Trump, and giggles uncontrollably when he learns about the poop deck. During routine sea trials off the Pennsylvania coast, Jim recalibrates the prototype railgun so that it fires off the starboard side instead of the aft side. No one notices. A 100kg slug is accelerated to mach 25 in under 150 milliseconds and goes screaming inland towards Dwight's beet farm.
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Sep 9, 2022 15:45
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Jim takes hypnosis lessons, and causes Dwight to forget 9/11
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Sep 11, 2022 17:37
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Jim finds a mustard color shirt and thick rimmed glasses while shopping at K-Mart, and decided to play a prank by dressing like Dwight and mimicking his idiosyncrasies at work. That night Jim finds himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror. first, softly, "i am dwight". then, louder "i am dwight" and even louder "i. am. dwight!" the cat comes in. she is hungry but there is no food
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Sep 12, 2022 02:22
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Jim sprays Cal-Blue micro gas leak detector into Dwight's face. Dwight, shocked, wipes his face and starts saying "Jim what the hell" and Jim sprays Tap Magic EP-XTRA cutting fluid onto Dwight's teeth. Dwight, noticing Jim reaching for the bottle of Loctite 243, turns around and runs.
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Sep 12, 2022 13:48
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Dwight forgets to lock his computer when he steps up to retrieve a document from the printer. Jim leans over, goes to Outlook, and emails the entire office from Dwight's account claiming that in honor of the 420th anniversary of Biff Beetington's maiden voyage to deliver salt and slavery to the indigenous people of Cuba, Dwight would bring in donuts tomorrow for everyone
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Sep 12, 2022 14:23
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Jim takes a polaroid of Dwight and laughs maniacally. "Hey Dwight take a picture, it'll last longer!" Dwight brushes off Jim's asinine remark. He doesn't realize it at the time but Dwight begins to age backwards.
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Sep 12, 2022 18:21
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Jim walks into the bathroom and sneaks up behind Dwight at the urinal, and he pushes Dwight causing him to stumble forward and pee all over his own shoes
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Sep 12, 2022 18:24
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Dwight sits down and feels the tack enter his buttocks for the third time today. Rather than leap up in pain, Dwight simply begins to cry. Ugly cry. The cries of an utterly broken man who's been pushed to, and beyond, his breaking point by a childish coworker and an apathetic manager. While Dwight weeps, a remorseful looking Jim rises from his seat and pats Dwight on the shoulder. "There there big guy, there there. Don't cry Dwight. Your behavior is... shocking" From Jim's free hand comes the all too familiar sound of the taser's electric whine as it charges up.
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Sep 13, 2022 10:34
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Dwight steps away from his desk to use the bathroom, making absolutely sure he's locked his computer. When he returns, he cries out in pain when he enters his username, as his keyboard keys have been replaced with tacks. "God loving drat it Jim enough with the loving tacks, you've been tacking me for three loving pages" he screams. He's unsure why he just said what he said. Jim turns to him and grins. His teeth have been replaced with tacks. Dwight, horrified, begins to back away. Jim's trademark floppy hair - tacks. His eyes glow silver, the tacks reflecting the artificial office lighting. His skin glistened - tacks. Jim had tacked every inch of exposed flesh. "What's the matter Dwight, are my jokes getting too... tacky?" Cenobite Jim tries to laugh but begins to cough.
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Sep 13, 2022 15:53
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Jim beckons Pam into the Prankatorium, formerly the basement. He walks over to the table and pulls off a blanket, and the room is bathed in a warm green glow. Pam shields her eyes from the intensity. "Behold my greatest invention! I call it pranktonuim. During the brown note trial runs, I accidently dropped my dunkaroo into the center of the plasma enclosure, and inadvertantly synthesized a new element. With the power of pranktonuim, I can finally begin the ultimate prank. The prankocaust." Pam is speechless. Her teeth begin to ache and she isn't sure why.
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Sep 13, 2022 19:57
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Dwight get in his car and is about to back out of the parking spot and go home when Jim raps on his window. Dwight rolls down the window and asks "what do you want?" Jim smirks and tosses a handful of glitter into Dwight's face. "sparkle sparkle balloon boy" he says while skipping away. Dwight, blinded by rage and glitter, slams onto the accelerator.
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Sep 15, 2022 17:45
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Applewhite posted:Jim dons Lalaith, the Ring of Pranks, that grants the bearer the will and the strength to prank any man. The dawn of the third age is upon the lands of middle earth. An exhausted Sauron begs Jim once again to return the ring. "Please. Jim. I'll do anything. Do you want riches beyond your wildest dreams? What about a kingdom? I'll give you a kingdom. Anything. Please." Wraith Jim mugs Sauron. "Ok, you can have it back." He extends his hand, ring in his palm. Sauron reaches his spindley fingers. But just as he's about to grasp the precious ring, Wraith Jim quickly retracts his hand. "Too slow!" he exclaims, laughing maniacally. Sauron can only groan.
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Sep 15, 2022 18:25
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Jim breaks into the office at 1am Tuesday morning, buck rear end naked and helicopters his 7 inches of uncut meat at the old security camera for 6 uninterrupted hours. Dwight is compelled to watch every tantalizing second.
LaserPrinter69 fucked around with this message at 03:14 on Sep 19, 2022 |
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Sep 19, 2022 03:05
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There was a break in overnight at Dunder Mifflin but nothing appears out of place. Upon reviewing the security footage, Dwight observes a sickly naked man, almost a skeleton, gyrating lewdly in front of the security camera. The emasipated man occasionally says things like "oh yeah you like that" and "how you like the size of this hog." It's rather sad, Dwight thinks to himself, as he fast forwards through the remaining hours of footage. Despite the insane ramblings saying otherwise, this chitinous body was most certainly not well endowed. Once he reaches the end he stands up and shuts off the monitor. He had decided not to press charges, as he believes this pathetic naked man has suffered enough.
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Sep 19, 2022 11:52
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Jim, who just saw Jurassic Park and who's favorite dinosaur is the triceratops and who's favorite color is red, stands up from his desk and loudly proclaims "hey everyone if Dwight was a dinosaur he'd be a Tyrannosaurus Dork!" The classroom erupts into uproarious laughter, while Dwight shamefully lowers his head and shuffles his feet. Mr. Scott tries to calm the rambunctious kids down, but it's clear he's stifling laughter.
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Sep 19, 2022 18:18
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While driving to work, Jim finds a dead deer on the side of the road. He slams on his breaks so hard that they smoke and his car fishtails, and causes a small pileup of cars behind him. Jim takes no notice as he drags the decaying corpse by the hoof, opens his passenger side door, and shoves the carcass into his Ford Fiesta. "Oh boy here I go pranking again! I just love pranking people!" he says to himself. The flies and the smell don't seem to bother Jim. After work, he rushes to leave before Dwight and makes it to Dwight's farm, where he proceeds to throw the rotten corpse down Dwight's drinking water well. "Well well well, it was nice knowing you" he says with a sly grin
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Sep 19, 2022 21:19
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Dwight begins finding teeth in unexpected places. It started with a molar in his shirt breast pocket. Then a wisdom tooth in his coffee mug. He noticed Jim was unusually silent, and figured Jim was simply pulling out his own teeth and leaving them for Dwight to find, as an unsettling prank. But Dwight remained unshook. That was until he ordered lunch and went to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket, and he felt the teeth. He pulled out what must have been hundreds of human teeth. Disgusted and horrified, Dwight went back to the office and confronted Jim. "What is this!" he demanded. "Jim what's going on! Whose teeth are these!?" Dwight slams a handful of teeth down onto the desk, they clatter and roll everywhere. Jim looks up and smiles. "What's the matter Dwight? You seem a little worked up. What teeth?" Dwight looks down and sees no teeth. Only gravel. Confused he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out another first of gravel. "I... I don't know. I'm sorry Jim I think I need to go home." In a floating head interview segment, Jim laughs into the camera. "Last month I found a thermometer on Amazon and I placed a bulk order, and extracted the mercury from each bulb." He holds up a vial of metallic liquid for the camera. "I've been mixing it into Dwight's yogurt. I think his mind is slipping! And as for the teeth? Well, a few months ago when Dr. Reese Dental Practice renewed their office supply contract, I offered a discount in exchange for extracted teeth. Can you believe they were going to just throw these away!"
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Sep 19, 2022 21:41
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Dwight grows increasingly concerned over Jim's rapidly expanding human hair and human teeth collection. As his thoughts begin to wander, he takes a swig from his chocolate milk. When he sets down the carton, the "have you seen me?" on the carton catches his eye, and a familiar feeling of dread creeps in.
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Sep 20, 2022 02:07
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goethe.cx posted:jim shits in dwight's hat Dwight returns from the printer but before he can even get close to his desk, a tidal wave of thick rancid air invades his nostrils, choking and suffocating him. He realizes the smell is coming from his hat, which Jim appears to have poo poo in. In all Dwight's days working on a farm, he had never experienced a smell as foul as what came out of Jim's body. Jim begins to laugh. "What's the matter balloon boy? I thought you liked wearing lovely hats!" He laughs even as he clutches his stomach. His laughs turn into winces. Dwight, disturbed but calm, replies. "Jim I'm not even mad. I'm very concerned. You really need to see a doctor immediately, I think something's very wrong with you." Jim gazes at him with yellow eyes. His skin appears brittle and his floppy hair appears to be patchy. "Dwight, I, uhh... I think you're right. That last prank, I guess it really took it out of me. I'm feeling a little nauseous." He appears to gag but continues. "Dwight can you, can you help me to the door?" Dwight rushes over and slings Jim's bony arm across his shoulders, and supports Jim as he begins to hobble away from his desk. As Dwight is concentrating on carrying Jim's weight, he doesn't notice when Jim pulls out a black sharpie and pokes it, hard, right into Dwight's ear while yelling "snakebite!" "gently caress Jim what the hell" he screams in anger. Jim mugs the camera as his vision begins to fade. Dwight sure is a gullible idiot, Jim thought to himself.
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Sep 20, 2022 03:16
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Space Kablooey posted:"Merry Christmas, Dwight!", Jim screeches at Dwight when he (Dwight) just enters the office. It's January and Dwight's existence is agony. The damage done to his spermatic cord was irreversible. "mashed potatoes" was how the doctor described it. The most skilled plastic surgeon in Scranton was able to fashion a makeshift organ from a few scraps of leftover skin but it would require daily applications of medicated cream or else it would become infected and fall off. Winter turns into Spring and Dwight is able to walk again without debilitating shooting pains from his groin region. That May his doctor clears him for sitting down again, and authorizes him to return to work in a limited capacity. He pulls into the parking lot - Jim's Fiesta is no where to be found. Good, Dwight thought. He wasn't sure which regional jail Jim had been thrown into and he didn't care. Whatever had caused Jim to snap that day and assault him with a sub-sonic brick to his gonads had also deprived Jim of the privilege of participating in civilized society and for all Dwight cared, Jim could rot in a cell for the rest of his floppy haired life. With a familiar ding, the elevator reached the Dunder Mifflin office and the doors slid open. With a THWACK Dwight is hit directly in the groin with a brick traveling at mach 12. The shockwave had caused a deafening sonic boom and papers were scattered in the air, entire desks had been smashed to splinters by the pressure wave. Every glass window in the office complex had been violently blown outward and glass rained down on the parking lot. As he crumpled over and his vision began to fade Dwight could make out the tall slender shape of Jim, wearing old timey black and white striped prison outfit that looks like it came from a halloween store, standing behind an experimental and highly classified navy rail gun. The last thing Dwight heard before falling unconscious was Jim's nasally voice quipping "I've heard of nutcracker encores but this one really rubs my rhubarb! Wait I mean tickles, the, tickles the pic - wait what rhymes with encore..."
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Sep 20, 2022 15:57
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One morning as Dwight is getting out of his car in the parking lot, Jim pulls into the spot next to him in his dusty Fiesta. Dwight is slightly confused. "Didn't you used to drive a Jetta?" he asks. "No, idiot, but I'm gonna jetta-son this brick into your crotch!" Jim then throws a brick at Dwight's crotch
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Sep 20, 2022 17:27
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Sep 20, 2022 18:21
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Jim goes to Food Lion and fills a shopping cart with every single egg in the store. Then he gets a second shopping cart and buys every box of breadcrumbs he can find, which isn't very much. He asks customer service if they have more eggs and breadcrumbs in the back, and they say no and ask what he needs them for. Jim begins to explain "I'm going to crack all these eggs in the bathtub, and then I bought a kiddy pool to fill with the breadcrumbs. Once I'm fully naked I'll turn around in the eggs until im sopping wet, then I'll flop around in the breadcrumbs. Then, still naked and covered in egg and breadcrumbs, I'm going to get my keys and go outside, get into my Fiesta, and drive to a wedding, as a prank" The kid in customer service can't tell if he smoked too much weed before his shift and is hallucinating, or if this floppy hair sex freak is being for real.
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Sep 21, 2022 20:19
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Jim wins the Powerball and buys all the land surrounding Dwight's farm. He then runs for city council and bribes all the other candidates to quit. He wins in a landslide. He then re-zones the plots from agriculture use to residential, and builds ten story apartment complexes completely surrounding the farm, and rents out the rooms exclusively to Scranton University fraternities and sororities. Dwight isn't sure if his beet harvest is dying because of not getting any sunlight, or because of the gross disrespect by drunk college kids doing donuts on ATVs through his land and urinating in his field.
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Sep 22, 2022 02:47
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Jim downloads "prank.exe" on limewire. The readme says it will eject the CD ROM drive at random intervals. Whatever a CD ROM drive is, Jim bets it will annoy Dwight when it ejects! When he runs prank.exe on Dwight's laptop, every pc in the office immediately locks and a splash screen says that to decrypt each pc a ransom of 1btc must be paid.
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Sep 22, 2022 02:50
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Dwight receives a letter in the mail - he's been conscripted into the Russian army. He tosses the letter in the trash. He suspects Jim is behind the letter. Why would Russia write a letter in English? Why would they write it in crayon? That night three men break into Dwight's room while he reads. One holds a chemically sweet smelling rag over his face, the other places a dark sack over his head. The third man never steps out of the shadows. Only the ember of a lit cigarette is seen, and the faint outline of floppy hair.
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Sep 22, 2022 02:57
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A Fancy Hat posted:Jim traps Dwight's essence inside a wooden masked carved to look like Dwight's visage. He then hangs the mask on a wall inside of Jim's bathroom. Three years later, a down on his luck bank clerk Stanley Ipkiss is walking home after his car breaks down. While looking over the Scranton bridge, contemplating ending his pathetic life by jumping into the icy waters, he sees a human visage being swept down the river. With a renewed sense of purpose, Stanley dives in to rescue the stranger only to discover what he thought was a person in peril was actually a disgusting, moldy warped wooden mask. As he holds it up to examine, the inside appears to shimmer with a mystic, mustard yellow glow.
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Sep 23, 2022 15:48
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Jim aquires a portable shrink ray, and aims it at Dwight. He pulls the trigger but nothing appears to happen. "Wow what a piece of junk" he says as he squeezes the trigger. What Jim doesn't realize is that since Dwight is touching the ground, everything connected shrinks at exactly the same rate. All mosquitos that were flying are now the size of tangerines, and all birds are the size of blue whales.
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Sep 24, 2022 21:51
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Jim reconfigures the pranktonuim ion matrix, increasing the shrink ray's integrated disruptor field by 420%. He tests it by aiming at Dwight's dog, Mose, and Jim is delighted when Mose gets proportionally smaller yet his mass remains the same. How curious! He could have stopped at any time yet Jim continues squeezing the trigger until Mose is the size of a grain of rice (yet still weighs as much as a full size dog). That night Jim breaks into Dwight's house, and while Dwight sleeps he aims the shrink ray at Dwight's hands until they shrink so small they're invisible to the naked eye. Just for good measure Jim keeps firing the ray until Dwight's hands become black holes which suck in all matter that approaches their event horizon. The next morning at work Dwight gives everyone cancer because of the hawking radiation eminating from the singularity that has replaced his hands.
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Sep 24, 2022 22:05
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Jim steals the sparkle from Dwight's eyes and adds it to his goulish collection.
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Sep 26, 2022 15:28
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Jim turns all of Dwight's body hair into strawberry jello. He then steals Dwight's eyelashes and adds them to his goo lash collection.
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Sep 26, 2022 16:04
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Jim gets a really good idea for a prank but needs immediate funding. He sells his house to a "we buy ALL houses in any condition" company for a small fraction of it's market value. He donates the proceeds to a mom and pop business that farms shrimp, with the condition that the grain silo be renamed "the Dwight Schrute big booty stupid silo" and painted with a hot wheels fire decal pattern. The small business owner is extremely confused by the terms, but agrees and accepts the check for $7,000. The silo becomes a small cultural phenomenon. A puzzled Dwight asks Jim what he was thinking. "Shut up!" shouts Jim. "I'm poo poo posting because I'm bored at work." This leaves Dwight even more puzzled than before because he's never bored at work, and has no idea what poo poo posting is.
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Sep 26, 2022 18:08
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Jim uses a reverse holographic field generator, but instead of turning the office into an anime hentai fantasy world, it turns Dwight's organs into anime organs. Jim, while surprised, is delighted at this new development.
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Sep 28, 2022 19:01
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| # ¿ May 14, 2024 19:43 |
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Jim, hairy as an ape and naked as a jay bird, steps into the Prankatorium and rifles through his clown costumes. He pushes hangers aside. Ronald McDonald... no. Clown from IT... no. Joker costume... maybe next time. Finally his gaze settles on his vintage bozo the clown suit. "Yes yes this will do quite nicely" Jim says to himself. Jim, donning his clown costume and now also wearing a red wig and a red squeeky ball on his nose, once again breaks into Dwight's home, this time catching Dwight as he prepares an organic beet salad. Dwight doesn't even flinch when he notices Jim. It must be Thursday already. Dwight doesnt know why Jim is wearing a clown costume and Dwight doesn't care to ask. Jim appears to be free balling, Dwight notes.
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Sep 29, 2022 16:16
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