Casual Friday was dead by the third Friday of November, in the year of 2005.

It had been limping along since the first incident, three weeks prior, which, for personnel reasons, cannot be discussed by ANY member of the staff. However, this final blow was deadly, a surprise attack that started in the name of friendship.

Dwight found the jeans by accident. At the time he, however, would have rather called it fate, or even perhaps destiny. Accident implies only that he wasn’t looking for them; his attention to the garbage can was far from accidental. He knows from experience that 1 in every 5 work spaces is eventually confronted by a rodent infestation, an issue frequently contributed to by cracked and leaking garbage cans.

After the yogurt incident of ’03, he had deemed preventative inspections instrumental to the future security of this branch of Dundler-Mifflin. It was then that he had chased out of the office an entire colony of dwarf mice with only a potato gun and two pipe cleaners. It should be noted that rodents are capable of doing awful, even sacrilegious things to paper products of all sorts, except cardstock.

Dwight almost exclusively uses cardstock for his correspondences, as he believes it is the only medium durable enough to withstand both gale force winds and termites. As an added bonus, it is odor absorbent.

As for hunting, he believes his talents are better suited to bigger game than small rodents, hence his preference for paintball. He has been researching these remote B&Bs that allow, nay encourage, you to hunt the young and nimble groundskeepers for a weekend. He knows no amount of camouflage or cloaking scents would ever succeed in confusing a Schrute. His great grandfather had sprayed himself with scent of wolf every night before bed, to better bask in and conquer the scent of his prey (although Old Grey managed to remain forever elusive, an unfortunate failure that led directly to the man's death).

Unsurprisingly, all Schrutes are now born with infallible senses of smell and can detect the slight aromatic difference between wolf and fox by the age of 10 months.

Although Dwight doesn’t believe in vacation days, sometimes he allows himself the guilty pleasure of planning out his hunting trip. In his plan there is a horrific (yet non traumatic) incident that forces the whole branch to evacuate for three days. He could then take his vacation quietly, covertly, with Mose left watching the farm as payback for his four day accordion convention three summers ago.

However, even in his daydream he brings along both his cell phone and his pager. Not being in the office is one thing, shirking all responsibilities and neglecting customers would cross an inexcusable line that he refuses to taint his mind by imagining. After all, Dwight K Schrute is only the sum of his customers’ (and Michael's) satisfaction.

However this is all neither here nor there. What matters is that on this particular night it was late and love was blossoming for Jan and Michael. Jim was sitting at home listening to Travis on repeat while doing laundry and Pam was picking a fight with Roy, first date memories having hijacked her senses, leaving her rather petulant.

But most importantly, Dwight, as he went about using his unplanned office sleepover to again demonstrate his worth as Assistant (to the) Regional Manager, was discovering a pair of jeans, the fun jeans, in the garbage can.

Less than 4 days later, Casual Friday would be dead -a victim of the following unfortunate series of events.

Pam arrived early to the office the next morning, tired and already grumpy, and irritated when she realized that Dwight had also arrived. Or never left, judging from his slightly rumpled appearance. She makes it five steps to her desk before Dwight accosts her, firmly taking her by the arm and walking her to the conference room. She barely has time to register the sheriff’s hat before she starts sensing a migraine coming on. In the conference room Michael’s fun jeans are spread out on the table, covered in saran wrap. All the lights in the room are off.

“I need to know who had access to your garbage can yesterday, between the hours of 9am and when I found Exhibit A at 10:03pm. I assume you have primary garbage access, but I assume Jim Halpert could access it as well. Correct?”

Pam rubbed her eyes with both hands as she sat down at the table. “Um, I guess so? Although I suppose anyone could use my garbage can while I was away from my desk. Where did you get the hat from? Did you sleep in the office last night? Why are the lights out?”

Dwight walked slowly around the table to the other available chair, trying to maintain eye contact the whole way around. Lose eye contact and you lose them. “I keep the hat in my car, in case of emergencies. And no lights because we don’t know who else is in on this yet. Pam, don’t try to distract me. Are you saying that when you leave your desk, you just leave your trash can sitting about. Are you really saying that?”

“Yes Dwight. When I leave my desk I do not take my garbage can with me.”

“Do you lock it up at least? Put it in a drawer? Tuck it under your desk?” The problem, Dwight was beginning to realize, was worst than he initially suspected, and Dwight K Schrute always expected the worst.

“No Dwight, I normally just walk away from my desk. It is a pretty small office. I assume I would see someone raiding my desk. Or my trash can. Why are you asking me about-“

Dwight slammed his fist against the table once, then two more times. He learned that trick on Court TV as the most effective way to intimidate a suspect without violating their personal space. In his experience it had a 58% success rate. “Pam. Pam Pam Pam. Have you not seen The Net? Identify theft is one of the top killers threatening Americans.”

Jim’s voice came from the door to the conference room. He looked back and forth from Pam to Dwight before spying the jeans on the table. “I don’t really think I would call it a killer. Are you referring to that Sandra Bullock movie? Isn’t that the one where she enters a beauty pageant?”

“Jim. Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t contradict me. Identity theft ruins lives. It ruins families. I change my identity every three years, just to thwart their efforts.”

Pam quickly jumped back in, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “Dwight, that is just not true. I’ve known you for three years.”

“Well Pam, I can’t go into it right now but trust me, you wouldn’t even know when I change my identity. I’m that good. AND, the point is that someone could be sneaking into the office and stealing valuable information out of your trash can and you WOULD BE LETTING THEM.”

Jim walked over towards them, throwing his messenger bag haphazardly on the table. “And what does this have to do with Michael’s jeans?”

“Everything. What if someone stole his jeans from your trashcan and tried to assume his identity. Everyone knows that Michael is nothing without those pants. Pam, do you want to go to jail for aiding a thief?”

“Yes.”

“No, no you don’t Pam. NO! Terrible things happen in prison. Just terrible things. And worst of all, afterwards you are always known as a convict, an outcast, a scourge on honest society.”

Jim pulled a chair over from the wall and sat down next to Pam. “Dwight. Do you keep this whole outfit in your car at all times?”

Dwight ignored Jim and stared at Pam intently. “Pam, the moral of the story is this: Michael’s very best jeans were in your trash can last evening, where I recovered them at 10:03pm. I need to know why and who and I need to know immediately. Or I will call the cops and have you imprisoned for abetting a ring of identity thieves. Do you understand me?

Pam took a deep breath and counted to three. She thought about the long day ahead, last night’s fight with Roy, and realized she forgot her lunch. It was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on sourdough and she had taken extra time to cut it into four crustless triangles. And it currently was at home, helpless on her counter. Particularly if Roy had seen it sitting out and had eaten it for breakfast, which, for the record, is exactly what had happened. Feeling defeated and cranky she took another deep breath, nodded at Jim, and looked Dwight straight in the eye.

“Absolutely I do Dwight. I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you. But you have to promise to do the right thing.”

Dwight leaned back in his chair and tried to examine her pupils to see if she was telling the truth. Her gaze seemed sincere and repentant, as well it should. Women are so easy, he thought. They always break under the slightest pressure. This is why Schrute women are never allowed near a table saw.

“Pam, are you sure you want to do this? Dwight isn’t supposed to know…” Jim trailed off in his very best serious voice,

“No Jim, we have to do what is right. Dwight, I’m sorry, but this was all a trap. Michael’s trap. He was convinced someone was trying to steal his identity through his really awesome jeans and he made me plant them in the trash to see if someone would take them.”

Jim jumped in. “And now that you have taken them, we have no choice but to turn you in to Michael.”

“He’s going to be so disappointed. And he was so close to making you Assistant Regional Manager.” Pam said, shaking her head back and forth.

This, Dwight thought, was unexpected. How could he lack the foresight to fall for such an obvious trap. Of course the jeans had been planted there! There was no other way Michael would ever part with them. “But this was all just a big misunderstanding!”

Jim jumped up and walked around the room so that he was standing directly behind Dwight. “Was it Dwight? Because I’ve seen the way you look at him in these jeans and I think the word is jealousy.”

“Desire even. Actually I would call it envy.”

“But wait. I asked Pam in here this morning to quiz her about how the jeans ended up in the garbage can. Why would I have done that if I was going to steal Michael’s identity?”

“Because you didn’t expect me to be so early! I got here early and ruined your plan. This whole line of questioning has been your cover up. And now you have no choice but to turn yourself in. I’m sorry Dwight, but it is over.”

“You both are being ridiculous. I’m going straight to Michael to clear this up.” Dwight shoved away from the table, swooped up the jeans (still in the saran wrap, of course) and made his way towards the door. He was just crossing the threshold when he heard Pam mutter “Goodbye forever Dwight. Goodbye.”

“Do you think I can take his stapler when he is gone? I really like his stapler. Good squeeze to staple ratio.”

Dwight stopped, pivoting sharply around to face Jim and Pam. His eyes darted back and forth from one to the other.

“I’m sorry Dwight, but Michael takes those jeans really seriously. It doesn’t matter your excuse. You have them in your hands right now. That’s all he will need to know.”

“But we can help you.” Pam jumped in. “You just have to do exactly as we say.”

Dwight looked down at the jeans and realized a tiny corner of the saran wrap had ripped. His prints were probably all over this fine denim. He looked up at Jim and Pam and slowly made his way back to the table.

And that was how Pam launched the lie that would eventually ruin a thousand Fridays.

Dwight soon left the conference room to change back into his regular clothes. He was to await further instructions from Jim at his desk, with the jeans now safely tucked under Pam's chair. Using an abandoned pad of Post it notes, Jim and Pam quickly went about drafting the plan for Operation Samuel L. Chang. (Previously rejected names included: The Net, Oscar (for the garbage can) and Ivel. (Levi backwards. Pam thought it sounded like Evil. Jim thought it sounded vampiric.) They both believed the plan to be relatively simple and fool proof. Unfortunately, like many ill-fated plans, it was neither.

Step 1: Torment Dwight into thinking he stole Michael's jeans. Bonus points if he genuinely starts believing he did it. Casually remind him how upset he was by Threat Level Midnight.

Step 2: Convince Dwight the jeans must be thrown out again, in order for "Michael's" original plan to come to fruition.

Step 3: Tell Dwight he cannot stay the night and watch the trash can, no matter how stealthfully, as the ring of identity thieves know of his existence and will not show up if he is watching. Try suggesting that most crime families are born with an innate fear of the name Dwight Schrute... Say you read it on the internet. He is better off standing guard outside of Michael's condo with his pepper spray, just in case. Side note: Perhaps create a wikipedia site on Dwight's prowess as a criminal hunter. First, check to see whether he has done so already. Side side note: A paranoid Dwight should not be put out on the streets with pepper spray. Instead suggest numchucks.

Step 4: Promise to leave the web cam on so that the intruder(s) will be recorded. Be shocked! when the intruders "accidentally" delete the file.

Step 5: Keep Dwight away from Michael.

Step 6: Keep Michael away from Dwight.

Step 7: Procure/Seize the evidence from the trash can after everyone else has gone home. Dispose of them in a manner fit to a pair of "fun jeans." Side note: Jim votes for "procure". Pam votes for "seize". A tiebreaker will be decided at lunch. "Take" has been proposed as an acceptable compromise.

Step 8: Accuse Dwight of stealing the jeans again, since he knew about the web cam. Bonus points if he starts to fear that he really might have. A can of Coke if he checks his car, just in case.

Step 9: Convince Michael that Dwight stole his jeans.