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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.



Pam had been checking the weather on the WNEP website every hour, hoping against hope that the snow would hold out long enough for her and Jim to be able to escape to her uncle's cabin for the weekend. So far Mother Nature had been lenient, but the tables seemed to be turning. A major blizzard was brewing and the local weatherman was predicting it would top the infamous blizzard of '96. It was at times like this that Pam wondered why she didn't move somewhere warmer.

With a sigh, she closed the news website and started up a game of solitaire.

The day was slowly dragging by now, with Michael having used up most of his ridiculousness quota in the first few hours of work. They had spent four hours in the conference room, locked in by Michael and not allowed to leave until someone came up with the perfect Christmas gift idea for Jan. Eventually Michael accepted one of their ideas - a Michael Scott comedy album. The thought of Michael sitting in front of a tape recorder spewing out tasteless joke after tasteless joke made Pam want to simultaneously grin and shudder. She half wished she could be a fly on the wall when Jan opened the gift and actually listened to the tape.

Out of the corner of her eye Pam could see Jim standing at the reception desk, staring down into the container of jelly beans. She smiled to herself; she had put fresh ones in this morning and had thrown all the black ones out.

Jim collected a handful of candy before moving around the desk so that he was standing directly in front of Pam. He rested his elbows on the desk and tilted his head so he could see the computer screen.

"Busy day?"

"Yep," she replied, a small smile playing on the corners of her mouth.

"Come on, you have to do a better job of entertaining me," Jim pleaded. "Andy's spent the last forty-five minutes singing show tunes and reading his love letters to Angela out loud. I can't go back."

Pam looked up at him, grinning. "He writes love letters?"

"And haikus," Jim added solemnly. "You see why I can never return to my desk. I'm afraid he's going to start asking for advice on iambic pentameter."

"I won't lie to you, Jim. I kind of actually hope that happens."

"Cruel woman," Jim said and smirked. "I think I'm going to steal some of his work and bring it this weekend."

"Best idea ever. What I really like on my weekends away is to read horrible love poetry about Angela." She frowned. "I really hope the weather holds out."

Jim popped a green jelly bean in his mouth. "Hey, come hell or high snow, we're making it to that cabin."

Pam smiled at him and Jim returned to his desk.

Pam returned to her game of solitaire. When the cards made the tth-tth-tth noise, she smiled. She would take whatever in-office joy she could get, no matter how small it was. She was actually starting to look forward to Andy's poetry. Well, it wasn't so much the poetry that she looked forward to - it was more so Jim reading it to her and the two of them falling into fits of laughter in front of the fireplace. She had never wanted it to be 5 o'clock so badly before.

"ATTENTION EVERYONE!"

Michael burst through his office door with Dwight in tow. He looked around the office and, when he was satisfied that all eyes were on him, he continued.

"Okay, people, scary news here. There is like five feet of snow on the ground."

"Well, technically it's really more like a foot or -"

"Shut up, Dwight," Michael interrupted. "This is serious! We are at threat level midnight here people! I don't want to alarm any of you, but... we are doomed. We are all going to die."

Jim left his desk and went into Michael's office. He came back out after looking through the window and sat back at his desk. "No one's going to die, but there is about a foot of snow on the ground already. It's coming down pretty hard out there."

He shot an apologetic glance at Pam.

"People," Dwight said. He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest for a more authoritative look. "I've been listening to my police scanner and my fears have been confirmed - all the snow plows are tied up in other parts of the city and the greater Lackawanna County area. I don't know when they'll reach us, so I suggest everyone settle in."

Michael sighed loudly. "It won't matter. By the time they get to the street we'll be buried in ten feet of snow and we'll be picking Phyllis' bones clean. Or Stanley. Definitely Kevin. Any one of them could feed the most of us. Send word to your loved ones because you're all going to die here tonight."

Michael retreated into his office, closing the door behind him. He shut the blinds soon after.

Angela chewed at her thumbnail nervously. "What about my cats? I didn't put out any crunchies before I left this morning..."

"Nobody panic," Dwight said loudly. "As a volunteer sheriff deputy -"

"Ex-volunteer sheriff deputy," Jim corrected.

Dwight glared at him, but continued his speech. "I know how to survive in emergency situations. I can get us through this, but I need your complete cooperation. To achieve this, Jim, I'm going to have to ask that you spend the night in your car."

"What?"

"I can't have you second guessing me!" Dwight told him. "If you want everyone to live, you will spend the rest of the night in your inferior vehicle. You may borrow my NASA blanket."

"Living in a car isn't so bad," Creed chimed in. His eyes were wistful as he added, "Toyota Tercel, 1989."

"I'm not spending the night in my car," Jim said. "We'll be out of here by 6:30, 7 at the latest. Not a big deal."

Dwight pushed his face so close to Jim's that their noses were almost touching. He hissed, "I know things!"

Before Jim could reply, Dwight stalked off. He tried to go into Michael's office, but the door was locked, so he went into the conference room and slammed the door behind him.

Jim sighed and walked over to the reception desk.

Pam was sitting with her head resting on the keyboard, causing manic characters to be typed into the Microsoft Word document she had open.

"You misspelled Adjaklamajfakis," he pointed out.

Pam lifted her head and offered a small smile. "I wish I was dead."

"Well, according to Michael, you will be soon, so... wish granted."

"If I close my eyes," Pam said as she did so, "I can pretend that I'm sitting in front of a fire in my uncle's cabin."

A crazed wail came from Michael's office and her eyes snapped open. She sighed. "Damn."

Jim reached down to take her hand in his. "Hey, we'll get there... if we live through tonight, I mean."


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