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Author's Chapter Notes:

This was written as a challenge from Lisahoo. She wanted a story set in season 4 about a prank that backfires.

 

 

 

  

 

 

The nicest thing about dating a girl was you didn’t need an excuse to get up and go talk to her. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the nicest thing, but it was definitely a perk.

 

 

“Hey.”

She looked up at him, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing. Bored.” To demonstrate, Jim yawned.

She nodded, “Fascinating. Oh, don’t eat those.” Jim’s hand stopped midway to the candy dish.

“Did Creed… ?”

“Ugh, no,” she whispered as she pushed the bowl to a less tantalizing spot. “I used a syringe to inject some, uh, medicine.”

“Oh well, okay. So long as it’s something sensible.”

She nodded, “Sensible’s my middle name.”

“Is it really? Thought that was Millicent.”

The phone rang and as she picked it up, she finally smiled. “Yeah, no, I lied about that.” She shrugged as if it weren’t her fault that lying had occurred. “Who would name a kid Millicent anyway?” Her voice changed as she spoke into the phone, “Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.”

   

 

A few minutes later, Jim put down his pen. He wondered if a person could fall over dead from boredom. “Hey, Dwight?”

Dwight didn’t look up. He was re-stringing Michael’s tennis racket using homemade cat gut. Jim knew it was homemade cat gut because Dwight had told him so earlier. At length. Against Jim’s will. As usual.

Since he was so focused on his task, Dwight sounded almost civil, “What?”

Being as earnest as possible, Jim said, “Don’t eat the candy on Pam’s desk.”

Dwight paused mid-catgut. “Why?” he asked, suspicious as always of anything Jim said.

“Sorry, sworn to secrecy. Can’t say anymore.” Jim mimed zipping his mouth shut.

    

 

Dwight could feel Jim’s eyes boring into the back of his head. Well, two could play at that game, Mister! He had prepared his cross-examination and was ready to attack. Pam would fold like a house of cards in a class 9 hurricane. He would go in quick and hit hard. He made sure to ejaculate the word “Pam” in a strong, no brooking back talk, tone. That would make her sit up and take notice.

“What is it, Dwight? I’m busy.” Her fingers flew as she typed an email to Jim about how they should redecorate the office to see if Creed noticed.

Dwight tapped his fist firmly against her monitor. This was ludicrous; she was a servant of Dunder Mifflin. When he spoke, she should jump! As a matter of fact she shouldn’t even have to wait for him to…

“What is it?” She repeated.

Dwight pointed to the candy dish that was overflowing with yellow, green, and orange jelly beans, “Why can no one eat this candy? And don’t lie. I know Jim’s behind it. I know everything. Tell me! I order you!”

Pam looked over at Jim just as he ducked his head behind his monitor. Her eyes narrowed. “Dwight, you don’t like this kind of candy. You said so.”

“Maybe,” he picked up the bowl and sniffed it. “Hmmm, doesn’t have any peculiar odors.”

“They’re just jelly beans,”

“That’s what you say,” Dwight lifted the bowl above his head to look at the candies from different angles. “Why aren’t there any black ones?”

“You ate them all last week, remember? Can I have my dish back? Please,” Pam held out her hand.

Dwight slowly handed the candy dish back to her. “Why are there more yellow and green ones than orange?”

She shrugged“No one likes them as much, I guess,” Pam set the dish back in its usual spot.

Flummoxed, Dwight tried to think of another form of attack. He knew something was up, something involving Pam's candy. He was sure of it.

     

 

Just for the record, Ryan Howard hated licorice flavored jelly beans. Because, as he’d tell you, he was a normal, sane human being. Only freaks liked black jelly beans. Half the people in his Scranton branch were freaks and not just about jelly beans. Personally, Ryan’s favorite jelly beans were yellow (because, sue him, he liked lemon) and green (because, and he knew this was a myth, but supposedly green jelly beans improved your sex drive. So if it was a myth, so what? If there was even a 1% chance that myth was true, then hell yes, he was eating green jelly beans and green M&M’s and green skittles and whatever else green they could make because frankly his sex life was fantastic since he’d arrived in New York and maybe it was New York or maybe it was that he ate green jelly beans, and oh my god, he realized, even my subconscious sounds like Kelly’s voice! Damn it, I am so over her! I am so over her! I am so over her!).

    

 

“Hey,” Pam braced herself against the break room door, blocking one of the two possible escape paths.

Jim looked up from scrutinizing the drink selection, “Oh hey, have you ever wondered where Dr. Pepper got his degree?”

“Probably the same online university that gave Michael a degree in Business Management,” It slipped out before she could stop it. Jim could do that to her even when she was totally focused on being mad at him. He could distract her for a second, but not for long, “Did you tell Dwight about the candy?”

“Me? Nah. Why would I do that? Hey! You thirsty?” He started to put more quarters into the soda machine before she even had time to answer.

Pam cleared her throat.

There was a dull metallic thud as a soda can fell down into the chute.

“Ok, well, I may have mentioned something,” he confessed.

Pam nodded, “Uh huh. Just be glad he no longer has access to ‘the lab’.”

Jim turned, startled. “Wait. You’re serious? You put something in the jelly beans?”

“Yup, but now I’ve got Columbo snooping around,” Pam thrust her thumb back vaguely towards the front office. “Thanks to you.”

Jim stared at her. “But… What… What did you put in them?”

“Medicine, okay? Now stop messing with Dwight,” Pam ordered.

“Medi....” Light dawned. “Is Michael refusing to take his allergy stuff again?”

Pam opened the door before he could question her further, “No, I told him they were discount Canadian Viagra. He takes three a day now.”

  

 

To: Receptionist@DMScranton.net

From: JHalpert@DMScranton.net

 

Not to be nosy or anything but where’d you get a needle?

 

 

To: JHalpert@DMScranton.net

From: Receptionist@DMScranton.net

 

From my sewing kit. Why? Missing a button?

   

 

Pam was still gloating over her answer to Jim when she noticed the candy dish. The jelly beans were gone! Someone must have replaced them while she was in the break room with Jim. Now it was full of red hard candies. “Dwight!” A quick glance confirmed his desk was empty. He could hide… but he couldn’t hide long.

Growling as she passed Jim, she stalked into Michael’s office. “Michael! Dwight’s stolen all my candy from the candy dish and replaced them with Atomic Fireballs. Nobody even likes….”

Michael swiveled his chair to face her. His face was contorted, red and glistening sweat. He was waving his hands in front of his face in a futile attempt to cool himself off.

She sighed “Michael….?”

He mumbled something that she translated as, “Ahhh…. my mouth is full, Pam.”

“Michael how many Atomic Fireballs do you have in your mouth?” She was trying to decide whether to fetch him a glass of water or just go straight for the fire hose.

“Muetoo,” he muttered. Maybe two, she thought.

He started pointing at his computer screen as if all would be revealed. She tried to ignore the fact that he was getting redder by the second.

There on the screen was a paused YouTube video. The title: “38 Fireballs!”

Oh god, Pam thought, is there anything stupid he will not try? She wondered if there was a way to ban YouTube from his computer... Turning to Michael’s florid face, she asked, “Right, so should I call an ambulance?”

Michael nodded.

That’s when Dwight and Andy came charging in. Both were juggling overfull pitchers of water. About then was when Michael vomited into a trash can.

    

 

 

While Dwight and Andy helped Michael into the men’s restroom, Pam went back to break the news to Kelly.

She began a tentative, “Kelly….” which had not been tentative enough since

Kelly was out of her chair faster then Pam could back up.

“Do not even say it!” Kelly screeched. 

Pam tried to remain calm, “We’ve had a problem…”

Kelly didn't pause to hear more, “This problem better be that Ryan is lying naked in the conference room wanting to make babies with me because that’s all I’m going to hear! Don’t tell me we’ve got a problem when the only problem is why aren’t you at your desk offering Ryan candy when he gets here because he’ll be here any minute and if you think that I’m going to sit back here and wait for you to get back there you better…”

Pam cut off Kelly’s tirade, “Dwight stole all the jelly beans.”

“He WHAT!” Kelly’s piercing shriek, oddly enough, was completely ignored by Toby who continued to browse the healthcare manual to see if stomach pumping was covered by upper management’s health plan.

    

 

 

“Dwight!” Kelly banged on the men’s bathroom door.

Jim poured himself a cup of barely drinkable coffee and watched the proceedings.

Dwight’s muffled reply was barely audible, “I’m busy!”

Kelly kept pounding on the door, “Give me my candy, Dwight!”

The door opened. Andy cocked an eye at her. “Why Miss Kelly, what a pleasure this is. And what sort of cand…”

“Get out of my way!” She shoved past Andy, storming the men’s restroom.

Jim raised his eyebrow. Women could be so bold when candy was on the line.

Dwight’s outraged voice could be heard, “My god, woman! This is a man’s private toilet! I’m telling Michael! Michael! Kelly’s in the men’s lavatory!”

Michael response was vocal and subhuman. It sounded as if various parts of his body were erupting.

“Oh man, Michael,” Dwight’s voice could barely be heard over the nauseating sounds, “You’re going to be feeling THAT in the morning.”

“Eeew! GROSS!!!!” Kelly quickly backpedaled out. From the safety of the kitchen, she screamed, “This isn’t over Dwight! I want my candy!”

Andy swooped in for the kill, “I’ve got some candy, little girl.”

  

 

 

Angela stood at rigid attention, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kelly grabbed another pencil to try and leverage open the top drawer in Dwight’s desk, “Getting my stuff back! Crap!” That was the fourth pencil she’d broken. “Does anyone have a…”

“Here,” Creed held out a crowbar. “Don’t worry, I’ve got extras.”

“Thanks,” Kelly took it as if it was perfectly natural for someone in her office to own a crowbar. With a satisfying sound of breaking wood, the drawer opened to reveal…. a large, beribboned Valentine’s heart full of uneaten chocolate candy. Kelly grabbed it and tossed it onto the desk so she could see deeper into the drawer.

Angela berated Kelly, “Breaking into a person’s desk is a flagrant and clear violation of office code of ethics. It is no business of yours whether….” She paused, smiling thinly, as she noticed a plainly visible folded card on the Valentine heart. With a quick flick, the card fell open revealing the words, ‘to my lovikins, my sweet yam, my monkey’. Realizing someone might notice her emotional response to these words, she quickly attacked Kelly once more, “No business whatsoever and I’m going to tell Michael!”

“I thought you were my friend, Angela!” Kelly squealed as she used the prybar to open a second drawer. There, touching nothing else in the drawer, lay a ziploc bag full of green, yellow, and orange jellybeans. It was labeled with the date and the words ‘Test for Poison’.

“Ha!” She lifted the bag victoriously above her head just as Ryan walked in.

   

 

 

“So what was in the jelly beans?” Jim asked later that night.

“Some kind of Viagra like thing,” Pam turned the channel while Jim’s attention was diverted. She hated The Surreal Life, especially Brigette Nielsen.

“Maybe you should have just put Michael’s allergy pills in the bowl,” he suggested.

She settled on a re-run of The Drew Carey Show. There was never anything on after 10. “Are you kidding?” She answered, “Michael keeps those in the safe and counts them twice a day to make sure no one’s stealing them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jim scratched his chin. “Hey, didn’t you say you know the combination?”

She snuggled closer to him, “Ooooh, if you’re a really, really good boy, I’ll tell you.”

 

And that was the nicest thing about dating a girl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Muggins is the author of 25 other stories.
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