April 14, 2006
Today was turning out to be one of the weirdest days of Jim Halpert’s life. Last night, Dwight had found a joint in the faculty parking lot. Dwight said that meant one of two things: 1) a teacher was responsible or 2) a student was responsible and had a faculty member as a dealer. Thus, Dwight came into work in his volunteer sheriff’s deputy uniform and began questioning teachers, beginning with Jim. “Jim, if Michael had taken my advice and installed metal detectors at the school entrances, we would not have this problem right now.”
“Oh, so metal detectors, which detect metal coming into the school entrance would have prevented marijuana from coming into the parking lot how exactly?”
“How do you know it was marijuana, Jim? Is there something you want to tell me?”
“First, you told me it was marijuana when I came in. And again over the announcements this morning. And actually there is something I want to tell you.”
“Please continue, Jim. Don’t be afraid.” At the end of speaking, Dwight put a tape recorder on the desk and pushed record. “This is just for the record.”
“Whose record?”
“Mine. And Lackawanna county’s.”
“Okay. I would like a lawyer present and it is your duty to provide one,” Jim said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.
“Jim, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous. I am asserting my constitutional rights.”
“Constitutions are made to be broken, Jim. What do you have to tell me?”
“Okay, Dwight. I’ll talk, but I reserve the right to remain silent.”
“Obviously, Jim. I told you that when you came in here.”
“Okay,” Jim took a deep breath. “Dwight?”
“Yes, Jim?”
“Your badge is crooked. Wow. Didn’t think I’d be able to get that out.”
“Dammit, Jim! This is serious business.”
“Serious volunteer business?”
“Jim, this is my job…”
“Volunteer job.”
“And part of that job is to find out who is smoking and/or supplying marijuana to our students. And I suspect you. You fit the profile of a marijuana smoker to a T. One, you are and always have been a slacker. Two, you are an English teacher and get off on reading things written by men who lived hundreds of years ago. Three…”
“Wait a second, Dwight. Are you suggesting that all English teachers smoke marijuana? Even Angela?”
“No…I am suggesting that you smoke marijuana, Jim.”
“Okay. Well, I don’t and have work to do so I would appreciate you letting me get to that.”
“Jim, I am not even close to finish my interrogation.”
“Your volunteer interrogation?”
“Jim, tell me why you brought drugs to school.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
“I’ve been having headaches lately. And I thought the drugs would help. And they have.”
“Ah ha! I knew it was you! Jim, by the authority vested in me by Lackawanna County, I hereby place you under arrest.”
“For what?”
“For possession of illegal drugs.”
“Is Advil illegal?”
“What Advil?”
“The Advil I brought in to help with my headaches. I googled what drug would help my symptoms and found a drug called Advil. Gotta tell ya, Dwight, I didn’t think it was illegal. I mean, I bought it at the grocery store, so…”
“Dammit Jim! Get out of here!”
“Is the volunteer interrogation over?”
“It is NOT a volunteer interrogation!”
“So you are getting paid, then?”
“No, but…”
“So it is a volunteer thing?” Jim loved messing with Dwight.
“Yes. No…it’s still official as can be, Jim. I have been appointed to this task by the county to assist them in law enforcement.”
“Assist in a volunteer fashion.”
“Just go, Jim. Before I charge you with obstruction of justice.”
“Okay,” Jim stood up. “Good luck and Godspeed, Dwight.”
Jim left Dwight’s office to go find Pam and compare notes on what Dwight had said. He saw her sitting at her desk. “Pam, I will never get those minutes of my life back and it is very depressing.”
“That bad?”
“Actually, it was exactly what you would suspect. Dwight said I am a slacker and an English teacher and therefore more likely to smoke AND distribute marijuana.”
“What does being an English teacher have to do with smoking marijuana? Or distributing?”
“Ask Dwight. Apparently I ‘get off’ on reading old guys’ writing. Which is the same thing as doing drugs, apparently. How did your interview go?”
“Well, mostly Dwight just asked about you.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said that Jim never smokes marijuana. Except for that one time.”
“Pam!”
“I’m kidding. I covered for you.”
“Whoa! You didn’t ‘cover’ for me. I don’t do drugs. Just say no, Pam. That whole campaign really spoke to me.”
“Right. Well, anyway, that was about it. Dwight kept telling me he could protect me and I shouldn’t fear telling the truth and that you couldn’t get to me if he was around.”
“Nice.”
“Yep.”
“So what else you got going on? What’s that?” Jim pointed to a notebook Pam had out on her desk.
“Oh, that’s nothing, really.”
Jim smiled. “Okay, now I have to know what it is. Can I see it?”
“Um…I guess. Only if you promise not to laugh.”
“Okay, I promise. But only if it isn’t funny.”
“Jim!”
“Okay, I promise. Now gimme.”
Pam handed the notebook to Jim, and Jim discovered that it was actually a sketchbook full of pictures Pam had drawn. And they were awesome. Some of them were landscape type pictures. One was a picture of a beach somewhere with waves crashing onto the shore. Some were still-life pictures: pictures of a stapler, the phone, the intercom. And then one of them made Jim break his promise: a picture of Dwight in his biohazard suit.
“Jim! You promised!”
“Pam, how can I not laugh at this?” Jim asked showing her the picture.
“Oh, I forgot about that one,” Pam smiled.
“Pam…why would you think I would laugh? These are amazing!” Jim remembered when he saw the picture she drew of Dwight’s stapler and jello and how talented she was. But these were even better.
“Really?” Pam asked shyly, turning her eyes away.
“Yes, really. I knew you were a great artist, but some of these…Pam, I’ve seen things like this at museums.”
“Okay. Give them back.”
“What?”
“You’re making fun of me now.”
“No. What? Pam I am 100% serious here. You really are great at this.”
“Seriously?”
“Pam, look at me.” Pam looked up at Jim. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. You really are talented. I really wish you would think about going to art school or something.”
“It’s just…I don’t think I would have time and…I’m still saving for my wedding and…the timing is just off.”
“Yeah, I guess. But…you’ve gotta take a chance sometime, right?”
Pam paused, contemplating what Jim had said. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. That’s all I ask.” Jim smiled at her and she smiled back. “Okay,” Jim said, standing up off of Pam’s desk. “I’ve gotta get to class. My lunch break is about over.”
“The lunch break where Dwight wasted most of it interrogating you?”
“That’s the one.”
“Well, have a good day.”
“You, too. I might make my way back here during last period.”
“Okay. See you then.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
English teachers are not more likely to smoke marijuana.
