"What did I tell you about setting the alarm so early?" Pam groaned as yet again, the alarm went off an hour before it was meant to. "Maybe we should start opening these in the evening instead?"

"Don't be such a grump. Remember how early you had me up on Black Friday to go shopping? I didn't see you complaining then," Jim said as he opened up the large card.

"Yeah, but there were important things to buy then."

"Beesly, pranking is far more important than shopping. Especially pranking Dwight," he grinned. "Ok so what do we have today?" he asked, pulling the envelope that had ‘two' written on the front. He ripped it open to reveal a postcard that had been decorated like an envelope with a cartoon of Dwight for the stamp. "Santa can't reply to kids on his own. Get Dwight to help him without a single moan." He looked up from the card with a confused look on his face, and gave Pam a questioning look, his eyebrows knitted together. "So what am I doing?" 

"Here," she said, having grabbed a small slip of paper from her night stand and passed it over to Jim. "This is Craig from the Post Office, he's expecting your call. I know his wife, Sarah, from my old art class and I bumped into her at the grocery store last week, and she said how stressed Craig was. He's been looking for volunteers to help reply to kids' letters that are addressed to Santa, and no one is around, so I said I was sure you'd be able to help," she smiled with her tongue between her teeth. 

"Wow," Jim laughed. "Dwight's gonna have a busy day I guess." He leant forward to give Pam a chaste kiss on her lips. "Alright, I better go call Craig then," he said as he got up to leave the bed.

"The Post Office doesn't open for like three more hours, why don't you come back to bed?" she suggested, her cheeks getting pinker by the second.

"My, my, pranking's got you in the mood, huh?" Jim laughed, as he placed the card on the floor, before climbing into bed and pulling the covers over his head, causing Pam to let out a giggle. 

-- 

Dwight had just returned from a bathroom break, when he noticed a large grey plastic sack sitting next to his desk as he walked through the bullpen. "What is this?" he shouted to no one in particular as Jim, Phyllis and Andy were all on sales calls. "Stanley? Where did this come from?" he asked loudly after there was no response. 

"I do not know, and I do not care," Stanley drawled, his eyes never leaving his crossword puzzle book.

Dwight looked around him and saw the top of Pam's head over the reception desk. "Pam, what is the sack by my desk?" he demanded.

"Oh hey Dwight," she breezed. "The mail guy dropped it off a few minutes ago. Just asked for you and I pointed him to your desk. What is it?" she asked, standing up to peer over the high desk. 

Dwight began rifling through the sack pulling out dozens upon dozens of coloured envelopes, all covered in scrawly childish handwriting. All with the same address: Santa Claus, The North Pole. "Oh no, no, no, no," Dwight sighed, the envelopes falling onto his desk. "This sack is full of letters to Santa, they've sent it to the wrong person."

"There's something taped to the side of the sack," Pam pointed out as she leaned over her desk. "What's it say?" Dwight pulled at the envelope that had been sticky taped to the side of the sack and opened it cautiously. His eyes quickly scanned the handwritten note before he groaned and slumped back in his chair. "What?" Pam asked, her eyebrows knitted together in slight pretend confusion.

"It says ‘Dear Dwight, you have been recruited by the United States Postal Service for a very special festive mission. We need you to respond to each child's letter by the end of the day so that they can keep believing in Santa. You'll find Santa's stationery, as well as a tube of magic elf dust (glitter) that needs to be sprinkled with love into each letter. Someone will be back to collect the letters at 5pm. We're counting on your Dwight, don't let us down. Regards, USPS.'" Dwight looked up at Pam with wide eyes and then down at the sack with the letters spilling out over his desk and the floor. "How am I going to get all these letters written today? Pam, you've got to help me." 

"I'm really sorry Dwight, Michael wants me to help him with his Christmas shopping today, so I'm gonna be out all day. Maybe Jim can help you when he's back though?" she offered with a glint in her eye.

"Absolutely not. I wouldn't let Jim Halpert near anything as important as this. Ugh," he huffed, "I'll just have to do it myself." And with that, he cleared his desk, placing his keyboard on the cabinet to his left and shoving his phone and other papers onto Jim's desk, and put a pile of the letters on his desk. 

-- 

"What do we have here?" Jim asked with a smirk as he pulled his chair out from where it was tucked under his desk after returning from his sales call. He sat down, leaning back into the chair with a wide smile as Dwight feverishly continued writing, oblivious to the red glitter that was all over his face.

"Shut up, idiot. I don't have time to explain," Dwight barked.

"Dwight's got an important job from the USPS," Pam explained, causing Jim to upturn the corners of his mouth and raise his eyebrows with a nod as if saying ‘oh'. "He needs to reply to all the kids' letters to Santa on his behalf." 

"Not on his behalf, as Santa. As Santa. Pam, we've been over this," Dwight said, clearly exasperated.  

"Sorry Dwight," she said meekly.

"Hey Dwight," Jim began as he pointed to his face, but was cut off.

"No," Dwight boomed as he took another letter off of the pile. "What is this? This idiot kid has sent a letter addressed to the Easter Bunny. Don't they know it's the wrong holiday?" Dwight tutted as he balled up the letter and threw it in the trash. 

"I'm not sure you should do that," Jim warned, walking over to the garbage can to pick the crumpled letter. 

"Why not?" Dwight mocked.

"Because some little kid is gonna be really sad that the Easter Bunny didn't write back to them. And you don't wanna disappoint a child, now do you Dwight?" Jim said as he straightened up the letter and placed it back onto the top of the pile on Dwight's desk. "Oh, and you've got a little glitter just, well, kinda all over," he said as he tried to wipe at Dwight's face, but Dwight deftly defended himself. 

"Woah, woah, woah," Michael shouted as he walked over to the two bickering salesmen. "What are you guys doing?" 

"Dwight just has a little something on his face," Jim said, pointing to the red mess engulfing Dwight.

"Oh god, Dwight. It looks like you've been kissing strippers or something. Why is there glitter all over your face?" Michael asked, getting too close to Dwight's face to examine it. 

"It's the magic elf dust," Dwight explained as if it were obvious.

"What?" Michael asked, clearly confused. "Nope, don't have time. Pamela, are you ready?" Pam nodded and stood to take her coat from the rack. Michael walked over to the exit but turned and pointed to Dwight. "If you're writing all your kiddie letters today, you better not be doing it on company time. Make sure you take a personal day." 

"But, I've got to..."

"Nope, not interested. Unless you're at that desk making sales, you're not getting paid by Dunder Mifflin today," Michael said as he turned.

"But you're going Christmas shopping," Dwight shouted after him.

"Sorry buddy, I don't make the rules," Michael yelled back.

--

Several hours later, Michael strode back into the bullpen and walked straight into his office, slamming the door behind him. Pam followed into the main office several moments later, carrying several large paper bags.

"What's up with him?" Jim asked as he walked over to reception and began rifling through the pot of jellybeans in front of him.

"Oh, he's mad because the Night Swept gift set that he wanted to buy himself for Christmas was all sold out," Pam explained as she hung up her coat and scarf. "How's he getting on?" she asked quietly, with a nod of her head towards Dwight. 

Jim surreptitiously looked over his shoulder at Dwight who was currently holding one hand in the other by the wrist and flexing his fingers. "I think he's starting to cramp up. Craig should be here in," he paused to look at his watch, "10 minutes, so he's almost done."

Pam giggled and looked up at Jim. "Did you get any work done today?" she asked.

"There were a couple of calls, but honestly, just listening to Dwight talk as he writes has taken up my whole day. It's just been an absolute blast. ‘Dear Sammy, I see you've been a very good boy this year so you will definitely be receiving a Tickle Me Elmo, love Santa'," he said, impersonating Dwight. 

"Go on, you better get back to him then," Pam laughed.

Just before five, the main door to the office opened and Craig walked in, wearing his USPS uniform. He went to smile and wave at Pam, but before anyone could see him, she loudly greeted him to stop him blowing her cover. "Hello, can I help you?" she practically boomed.

"Oops," he quietly said, putting his hand over his mouth. "I'm here to pick up some letters from Santa?" he said loudly.

"Sure, one moment," she said, walking around her desk, passing Craig on the way. "Hey Dwight, the mail guy is here. Are you all done?" 

"No, no, no, just five more minutes," Dwight practically sobbed.

"We'll help," Pam said, nudging Jim with her hip to get him to move. They both grabbed a sheet of the Santa stationery and quickly scribbled a reply each. 

"Don't forget the magic elf dust," Dwight said, shaking the glitter at them. 

"Thanks bud," Jim said, looking down at his crotch, which was now covered in red glitter.

"Ok, that's the last one," Dwight said a few minutes later. He grabbed the letters that Jim and Pam had been writing and stuffed them into the sack with the rest of the ones that he'd painstakingly written over the day. "Here you go," he said to Craig, dragging the heavy sack behind him. "All done." He wiped his forehead with his palm, rubbing even more glitter all over his face.

"Thanks Dwight, you've been a real lifesaver. Shall I bring the next sack for you tomorrow?"

"What? There's more?" Dwight cried. 

"Oh yeah, we've got like twenty of these things," Craig explained. "So I'll bring the next one tomorrow?" 

"No, wait, no. I'm out of personal days," he said sadly.

"Nevermind Dwight," Pam said, rubbing Dwight's arm. "You did the best you could."