They sat grinning at the camera, side-by-side in plastic chairs.

"So, Jim got me a present.”

Pam raised the small black rectangle in her hand.

"Hold it up for the camera," Jim urged, like a little boy showing off his newest baseball card.

“I am holding it up!” she insisted, shaking the black rectangle at the camera lens.  Jim quickly placed his hand on her forearm and halted the motion.

"Woah, woah, woah, Beesly!  That is a video iPod.  Eighty gigs.  Engraved on the back.  And it’s black.”

Pam squinted at him.

"Does the fact that it’s black make it better?”

He just stared at her for a moment with a look that clearly said, 'Your brain is not functioning on all four cylinders today, is it?'

"Are you seriously asking me that?” he asked, finally.

Pam crossed her arms over her chest, the iPod folded under left elbow.

“I think it’s a valid question," she maintained.

A playful, impatient look immediately settled over Jim's face.

“Pam, it’s blaaaaack," he whined.

Pam uncrossed her arms and looked thoughtful.

“Ohhhh.  Now I understand.”

“No, you don’t," Jim pouted.

“I do," Pam replied, like a mother trying to pacify a young child.

“You," Jim began, pointing accusatorily, "Are an iPod racist.”

There was a brief pause.  Pam was trying to maintain her blank stare, but a smirk threatened the corners of her mouth.

“I’m going to tell Michael that we need some immediate diversity training.”

At this Jim stood abruptly, and the camera panned back to get his entire body into frame.  He started toward the door, and the smirk threatening Pam's mouth became an incredulous grin.  She leapt up with a little yelp and grasped his arm, tugging him back into his seat as he pretended to struggle against her.

Once they were both resettled the crew asked them a question.

"What does the engraving on the iPod say?”

Pam looked briefly over at Jim, as if waiting for his 'okay.' When he nodded, she flipped the iPod over and held it up.  The camera zoomed in as Pam recited the engraving aloud.

"Don't put tea in me."

The pair shared a smile before the crew asked another question, this time directed solely at Pam.

“Do you still have the teapot that Jim gave you for Secret Santa?”

Pam's eyebrows rose a little.

"My iPot?  Yes, of course."  She paused for a moment, and threw a smirk at Jim.  "And I still have the yearbook picture too.”

"Yeah, we need to discuss that," Jim said in an admonishing tone.

Pam shot him an innocent look.

"What?” she asked.

"On your refrigerator, Pam?” Jim said accusatorily.

"And your point is what?” Pam asked.

"That picture was a gift.  From the depths of my soul.  And yet you choose to hurt me this way," Jim continued, clutching his chest with his hand as if soothing his aching heart.

"How does that hurt you?” Pam scoffed.

"It’s not a flattering picture.”

"What would make you think that?”

"Oh, I don’t know," Jim said, pretending to contemplate the question.  "Maybe your uncontrollable giggling every time you open the fridge to get a bottle of water.”

"It’s super hot," Pam insisted.

"Stop it.”

"With two T’s.  Hott.”

Pam was grinning again, and Jim rolled his eyes, but a small smile had found its way onto his face as well.

"Aaaanyway, Pam sold her old Prism Durosport to Dwight," he said, trying to get the interview back on track.

"I tried to just give it to him, but he informed me that 'Schrutes don’t take handouts,’” Pam said.

"Which prompted me to leave him an anonymous free lunch in the workroom fridge for him every day for the next week," Jim added.

Pam looked up at him.

"If you can call a beet in a paper bag with ‘For Dwight’ written on it a lunch.”

"Are you insinuating that beets don’t contain enough nutritional value to substitute an entire meal?” Jim asked, mock-offended.

"Anyway,” Pam continued hastily.  "Dwight found the average retail value of a used Prism Durosport on Amazon.com. And then he offered me half.”

Jim smiled.

"And it was with that $20 that we financed our latest plan.”

Pam gently nudged him with her elbow and gave him a smirk.

"What?”

"Financed our latest plan’?  You sound like a Bond villain," Pam teased.

"Just call me Halpert.  Jim Halpert.”

Jim held up an imaginary martini glass and winked.

Pam snorted.

"Dork.”

"Not ‘Dork,’ Pam," Jim said matter-of-factly.  "Halpert, Jim Halpert.  It’s okay.  It’s a tricky name.”

They were interrupted by another question from the crew.

"So what's the plan?"

The pair looked at each other with obvious delight before responding.

"Well, Dwight found the entire first season of the show Heroes on his illegal Russian torrent site, and he’s been watching the episodes over and over again.  Obsessively," Pam explained.

"In the break room, in the bathroom, in the car to and from sales calls, which seems… dangerous," Jim continued.

"Wait—in the bathroom?” Pam blurted.

"I had a very unfortunate encounter yesterday that I’d rather not call back from the depths of my subconscious."

Jim did not elaborate, although Pam was looking at him expectantly.

"You’re going to give me details later," she said sternly.

"Pam—" he started, but stopped short at her look.  "Fine."

Pam nodded in satisfaction and muttered, "whipped" under her breath before she continued.  Jim’s eyes flew open and he mouthed ‘WOW’ at the camera.

"So finally, Jim and I looked the show up on Wikipedia."

"I believe it was Machiavelli who said, 'Know thy enemy's TV obsessions, because then it will be easier to mess with them,'" Jim said sagely.

"That sounds like something Machiavelli would say," Pam concurred.

"Seriously, I read up on Battlestar Gallactica once and started quizzing Dwight on the minutest details.  When he couldn't answer something, it was like he questioned his very existence," Jim said, bewildered.  Then he smiled.  "It was awesome."

"Yeah, but that backfired because now you're a Battlestar Gallactica geek," Pam replied.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim said defensively.

"He catches the repeats on the SciFi Channel," Pam told the cameras.

"You can't prove it," Jim said, before quickly switching gears.  “So anyway, we looked up Heroes on Wikipedia, and we discovered the most glorious thing."

"I think Jim actually teared up," Pam interjected, smiling.

“Just a little.  But they were manly tears," Jim said. 

“Of course,” Pam confirmed, nodding seriously.

"Anyway,” Jim continued.  “All I knew about Heroes was that 'Save the cheerleader, save the world' thing.  And then I find out that, according to Wikipedia, the cheerleader's father—”

Jim paused and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.  He continued, reading directly from the paper, “Quote ‘works for the Primatech Paper Company, which is actually a cover operation for an organization that investigates people with superhuman abilities.’”

Pam's eyes positively twinkled when Jim finished reading.

"A paper company. That is a cover.  For a secret group.  Of shadowy paranormal investigators," she said, barely containing her excitement.

"We downloaded the entire first season of the show on iTunes using Dwight's twenty bucks plus a little out of pocket, totally worth it, and spent the next three days doing 'research,'" Jim said, putting 'research' in air quotes.

"Once we had finished the season, we knew.  We had the ultimate prank," Pam said breathlessly.

"A way to make Dwight Schrute believe that his world had been turned upside down, that superpowers really do exist, and that Dunder-Mifflin was hiding a secret so huge that it would stop at nothing to keep it hidden," Jim added dramatically.

"Did I tell you that I've just found out I have the most amazing ability?" Pam said, as if she was revealing something very covert.

She paused for effect. 

"I can read minds."

Jim and Pam looked at each other, smirks growing on both of their faces.  And the camera crew knew that Dwight Schrute was doomed.