"Mmm," Jim moaned as he felt Pam kissing her way up his neck the next morning. As if in reflex, he wrapped his arms around her waist whilst his eyes remained closed.

"Hi," she whispered as she ran her hand up his chest.

"I thought I was under strict instructions not to wake you this morning?" he said, running his hand down Pam's arm to rest it on her hip. 

"I know," she groaned as Jim pulled her closer to him. "But I've woken up so early each day this week, I think my body clock is now trained to think I get up at 6am."

"Well, seeing as we're both up," he said with a slight thrust of his hips, causing Pam to giggle and pull the covers over them. 

Forty five minutes later, they made their way down to the kitchen. As Pam pulled out a box of waffle mix from the cupboard, Jim took a seat at the kitchen table so that he could open the next prank in his advent calendar. "You know, you should totally have called this a prankvent calendar," he said as he opened up the card, earning him a little laugh from the other side of the kitchen. After scanning the empty pockets for a split second, Jim found ‘five' and quickly pulled out the envelope, before slipping his finger under the flap and ripping it open. He pulled out a white postcard, decorated with a farm stand and lots of vegetables spilling from it across the card. "This year we might cause a little drama. Tell Dwight he's going to judge the best festive farmer," Jim read out. "What?" he laughed.

"Remember the cute little farmers market in Carbondale?" Pam asked as she mixed the waffle batter. Jim nodded. "So they're holding a festive food competition. You know, like the best produce, tastiest gingerbread, crispest sugar cookies? That kinda thing." 

"So where's the prank?" Jim asked, a little confused.

"Well, they need a judge," she said, passing him a flyer for the competition

"Dwight?" he asked, looking up from the pamphlet. 

"Yup," she smiled. 

"Ok," he replied, still confused. "But I don't get it. The market exists, the competition exists." Jim held up the flyer as if showing Pam proof. 

"Both are true. But the market is only open on a Wednesday. Don't you remember, we had to take a personal day to go?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, looking at the flyer again. "Why does it say tonight?" 

"Photoshop," she said with a waggle of her eyebrows. 

"So we're sending him to Carbondale, to judge a competition that already happened?" he asked. 

"Yup," she smiled. 

"I gotta say Beesly, kinda feel like this prank is letting the side down a little," he said, pulling a slightly awkward face. 

"Hey! You try coming up with 12 Christmas themed pranks!" she protested, throwing a dishcloth at him. 

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he said, standing with the dishcloth in his hand. He tossed it back to her with a grin. "I'm sure it's gonna be great." 

--

"Here you go babe," Pam said as she passed Jim his mail. 

"Inappropriate," Dwight said as he typed away on his computer. Jim and Pam rolled their eyes at each other with a slight smile as she moved towards Dwight's desk. He held his hand out expectantly for the mail. Pam handed the pile to him wordlessly, including the letter that Jim had typed up less than an hour ago, before turning her back on him and passing Phyllis her mail. 

"Yes, yes, yes," Dwight shouted minutes later after opening the third envelope, seemingly not noticing that there wasn't a postmark on it.

"What've you got going on over there?" Jim asked after discarding his own small pile of mail. 

"I've been waiting for this for years," Dwight said proudly. 

"For what?" Phyllis asked, turning around in her chair. 

"For this," Dwight said, shoving the letter into her face.

"What is it?" Andy piped up. 

Dwight stood up and straightened his tie before speaking. "I have been invited to judge the annual Festive Food Competition at the Carbondale Farmers Market." 

"Congratulations buddy," Jim said, staring up at Dwight. 

"Oh I love that place," Pam said, leaning over her desk. "Jim and I went a few weeks ago, we got some amazing produce from there, and I really wanted to go back for their festive market. I even grabbed a flyer for it so we'd remember to go." She looked down at the flyer. "Oh shoot, but it's tonight and we have plans. That sucks." 

"No, no, no, not tonight," Dwight said, his hand flying to his head before he looked down at the letter again and quickly reread it to confirm the details. "Ok, don't panic," he said to himself. He grabbed his cell phone from his belt and punched 2 on the speed dial. "Mose, it's Dwight. I need you to slaughter the goat tonight on your own. Remember to save its blood in the bucket. And then go to Aunt Shirley and bring back the four chickens. You remember what to do with them?" He paused for a moment, listening to Mose on the other end of the phone. "Ok good." He flipped his phone closed and looked up at several horrified faces. "Crisis averted."

"So how come you didn't enter the competition Dwight?" Jim asked.

"Oh, they never have beets as a category, but I've always wanted to go and scrutinise the sweet potatoes and green beans," Dwight replied, as he looked over the letter in his hand again. "And now is my chance to shine."

"Sure will be," Jim smiled. 

--

"I honestly can't believe we're driving to Carbondale. To watch Dwight do nothing. This is so stupid," Jim moaned as he pulled out of the driveway later that evening.

"What good is a prank if there's no payoff?" Pam challenged back.  

"Well, like I said, this isn't your finest prank, so I think we could have stayed home and we'd have been ok." 

"And that is why you didn't get to hear the whole prank this morning," she shot back with a raised eyebrow. 

"Beesly!" he exclaimed, almost crashing the car. "What are you hiding from me?" 

"I guess you'll find out when we get there," she smirked.

-- 

"I thought the farmers market was on Wednesday? What's going on?" Jim asked 30 minutes later as they walked to the corner of 4th and Main Street to see the whole area lit up with string lights and Christmas decorations, plus a stage set up, with a judging table in front of it and a large audience already seated and waiting. "The competition is actually tonight?"

"Well, a competition is tonight. Just not the farmers market one," Pam explained. Jim looked at her with wide eyes and a nodding head as though willing her to continue explaining. "It's the Carbondale Stand Up Comedy Competition."

"Oh my god," he whispered in awe. "You're a genius." 

They took their seats a few rows from the back and to the side, so that they wouldn't be noticed, and waited for Dwight to arrive. A few minutes later, Dwight arrived in a full farmer getup of overalls, mud caked boots and was chewing a piece of hay, and promptly marched over to the judging table and sat down. Two other people, dressed in regular clothes, joined him several minutes later giving him slightly odd stares.

"We're gonna have to get closer, I can't hear anything," Jim whispered to Pam after watching Dwight have an animated conversation with the woman he was sitting next to. They edged their way out of their row, and crept down to the front to take their new seats, two rows back, directly behind Dwight. "Much better," Jim said quietly. Before they had a chance to say anything else, a spotlight fell to the stage and the host appeared.

"Welcome everyone to the 3rd annual Carbondale Stand Up Comedy Competition," he said from the stage. 

"No, no," Dwight shouted from the judging table. "You're in the wrong place, this is the Festive Food Competition. For the farmers market."

"Um, no, I'm sorry. This is definitely a comedy competition," the host said. "Looks like we've already got one funny guy down here," he said, earning him laughter from the audience.

"Please. Who would want to see a comedy competition? Comedy isn't funny? Want to know what is funny? Upside down houses. Those are hilarious," Dwight began to rant as the man stood on stage with a horrified look on his face. "And don't even get me started on how a man spends his hard earned money on art." 

"Aaand I think we've found the winner of the comedy competition," Jim laughed to Pam as Dwight continued his tirade in front of them.