We open in extreme close-up on DWIGHT. All we see is his face, tilted towards an awkwardly-raised shoulder to keep his cell phone against his ear.

DWIGHT (in his natural element: full sales mode):
I can guarantee twice-weekly delivery direct to your locations in Hazleton, Stroudsburg *and* Dingman’s Ferry. You’re not going to get that from anyone else at these prices. Staples? (scoffs) It’ll cost you an arm and a leg.

The camera slowly zooms out, revealing a blue plaque celebrating Scranton leading the company in sales in 1995 and a poster for a long-ago Dunder-Mifflin all-hands meeting on either side of DWIGHT’s head… although strangely close to him, like he’s leaning against the wall.

The shot pulls out further to reveal that DWIGHT is half-in and half-out of a ragged hole in the wall behind RECEPTION. The hole starts two feet off the ground and rises to about five and a half feet. If it’s wider than DWIGHT, it’s not by much. His right leg is in the hole, bent at an uncomfortable-looking angle, and is not visible below mid-thigh. His right arm is in the interior as well, most of the way up the shoulder.

As we take this in, we notice DWIGHT is using his one free arm to hold up a finger to silence the crowd that has gathered around RECEPTION: an exasperated MICHAEL, tapping his feet and checking his watch; DARRYL, who has his arms folded across his chest and is accepting that now he’s seen everything; and LONNIE, who has one hand on his hip and is rubbing his head with the other in contemplation of this mess.

A gaggle of Dunder Mifflinites is standing by the FRONT DESK CLUMP, including an all-smiles JIM and PAM, a concerned PHYLLIS, a confused-even-for-him KEVIN and a mentally-updating-his-resume OSCAR.

DWIGHT (as we zoom out):
I go the extra mile for our customers. I won’t let anything stand in the way of meeting your paper needs. Anything. (DWIGHT pauses to listen as MICHAEL waves his hand – ‘wrap it up!’) You won’t be disappointed, Mr. Finkenauer. I’ll fax that contract over to you immediately.

DWIGHT hangs up his phone.

DWIGHT (as if he isn’t stuck in a wall):
Pam, could you send our standard six-month new client agreement to Finkenauer Larson Attorneys At Law? Number’s in my Rolodex.

MICHAEL:
 *Gawd.* Are you done? Can we get to this now?

DWIGHT:
Making the sale always comes first, Michael! You taught me that.

We cut to a talking head with OSCAR, shot at the PHYLLIS-STANLEY-ANDY desk clump. OSCAR is looking at the interviewer like they’ve taken leave of their senses.

OSCAR:
(Gestures to the scene behind him.) Dwight’s stuck in the wall. (He flips his palms in confusion. What does it *look* like is happening this morning, KEN?)

We cut back to RECEPTION.

MICHAEL (not as stressed as he should be):
Look, this can’t be that complicated, I’m sure you can do it on your own. Don’t you guys have, like… a chainsaw or something downstairs you can use?

DARRYL and LONNIE exchange a look.

LONNIE:
…no.

DARRYL:
No, Mike. We don’t… we don’t have chainsaws on hand in case someone gets stuck in a wall.

We cut to a talking head with DWIGHT. JIM is leaning against the wall next to him, nodding faux-sincerely along to DWIGHT’S monologue.

DWIGHT (shouldn’t this be obvious even to you simpletons?):
Look, it’s very simple. I came in early. I heard rustling behind the wall. I took out my stethoscope. (JIM raises an eyebrow.) I secured auditory confirmation there was unusual activity. I was concerned Staples or Office Depot had sent a spy. Or possibly mice. (JIM shrugs at the camera. What was DWIGHT supposed to do, *not* bust a hole in the wall?)

DWIGHT continues speaking over shots from earlier of the camera crew entering Dunder Mifflin for the day to find MICHAEL and ANDY fruitlessly tugging at DWIGHT’s free arm while he yelps; KEVIN rubbing butter from a container clearly labeled “S. HUDSON” around the edges of the hole while DWIGHT berates him; and PAM, barely holding herself together, holding up a file so DWIGHT can read off of it… and JIM slides next to him and pulls what appears to be an engraved business card case out of DWIGHT’s pocket, and walk away as DWIGHT fruitlessly tries to grab it back, to PAM’s amusement.

DWIGHT (in voiceover):
I used my sledgehammer to break through the wall so I could investigate more closely. My visual inspection was inconclusive, so I put the sledgehammer away and attempted to enter the area. My efforts had dislodged something in this… shoddily constructed building, and it fell on me, pinning me in place.

We return to DWIGHT and JIM.

DWIGHT:
You people act like you’ve never seen someone ferreting out corporate espionage before! (JIM shakes his head at the CAMERA CREW. How could anyone be so unfamiliar with the business world?) Turns out it was mice. (pause) Two of them are sitting on my foot right now. (He narrows his eyes.) Mocking me. (Menacingly). Hope Mickey and Minnie are enjoying their cheese, because as soon as I’m free, Disneyland’s getting gassed… courtesy of Schrute Farms. (Jim gestures: DWIGHT SCHRUTE, everybody! DWIGHT turns to JIM.) I’ve spent years perfecting a beet-based anti-rodent chemical bomb, you know.

JIM:
I know, buddy. (He reaches into DWIGHT’s shirt pocket and pulls out a trading card, and then walks away, showing it to the camera as he passes by – it’s Ka D’Argo from Farscape.)

DWIGHT:
Hey! (He attempts to chase after JIM, forgetting that he’s… you know… stuck in the wall.)

We cut to a talking head with ANGELA in the CONFERENCE ROOM.

ANGELA:
He was in such a hurry to smite one of God’s creatures he got himself trapped. (She gives a satisfied smirk.) Maybe the Almighty will see fit to send him some frozen French fries.