Even as newly minted “fresh meat,” as he’d heard himself be called multiple times, it didn’t surprise Jim Halpert that his first week of college was culminating in drinking and a degree of sexual experimentation.
That it involved him wearing a pink feathered boa, that he was surprised at.
After spending his senior year of high school up to his ears in applications, Jim had decided to matriculate at Dunder-Mifflin College, a liberal arts school in Scranton, Pennsylvania, to major in…
Well, he didn’t know what the hell he was going to major in.
He just knew that it seemed like a good school and there were no fraternities, so that made him happy.
A guy he’d known growing up, Michael, was a sophomore and had encouraged Jim to join him at Dunder-Mifflin.
“Come on, Jimbo, Jimboree, Jungle Jim,” he’d wheedled on a weekend home last year. “You’ll love it. Me and you. Best buds. Rulin’ the school. Best buds.”
He’d kept saying that. “Best buds.”
It was more, as far as Jim was concerned, friendship by proximity. They’d grown up two houses apart, had gone to the same school, ridden the same bus… the choices were either to be friends or enemies. He’d chosen to be friends.
And sometimes he’d questioned that choice.
But despite Michael’s lack of boundaries, Jim knew he really was a good person, and the school did seem to have a lot going for it, so there he was, living in a freezing building called Vance Hall, sharing a bunk bed with a way-too-preppy guy who had littered one wall of the room with Cornell pennants.
“All I got to do is play for the A-Team for one year and then I can go ivy climbing in old Ithaca, Tuna,” Andy had informed Jim, addressing him by his choice of sandwich in an orientation meeting.
Jim really hoped Andy got what he wanted.
But for tonight, he didn’t have to worry about his collar-popping, a capella singing roommate.
Instead he was sitting on the floor in the living room of an off-campus house Michael was sharing with three other students: Meredith, a voluptuous, brash redhead who seemed to fancy herself sexier than she was; Oscar, a smart, levelheaded guy whom Jim was pretty sure was on the verge of making some discoveries about his sexuality; and Kelly, a sweet but ditzy girl with a high pitched voice and way too much makeup.
They were playing a game, inexplicably called “Three Man,” and it was Jim’s turn to wear the crown, or in this case, the pink feathered boa.
He was still getting the hang of the rules, but he knew that different rollings of the pair of dice making their way around the circle meant different things, and as the current Three Man, it meant any time a three was rolled, he had to drink.
There had been a few threes rolled already. And Jim was confused about the rules.
Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one.
“Hold on,” spoke up Karen, a pretty, dark-haired girl who lived on his floor and with whom Michael was determined to try to sleep, “what do all the different rolls mean again?”
“Does it matter?” sniffed Angela, a petite blonde wearing a puff-sleeved blouse and a crucifix around her neck. “It’s all disgusting and debaucherous.”
“I’m sorry then, why are you here, Angela?” asked Kelly, and Jim silently agreed.
“I am her escort,” spoke up the moon-faced kid with large glasses and a middle part, who had introduced himself to Jim as Dwight K. Schrute, full name, with middle initial, and who was drinking a viscous looking dark liquid through a straw.
“Dwight,” Jim asked, “are you drinking blood? Are you a vampire?”
Dwight rolled his eyes. “I told you, fresh meat, I am drinking fermented beet juice. Beets contain beta cyanine, a cancer fighting agent, particular colon cancer.”
“Ew,” Michael cried out. “No poop shoot talk!”
Dwight continued. “Beets also prevent heart disease, inflammation and fight birth defects.”
Across the circle, Pam, who had green eyes and wavy red-gold hair, spoke up. “Dwight, can you have babies?” she asked innocently, sounding fascinated.
Dwight rolled his eyes. “No, Pam,” he replied condescendingly. “Human males cannot gestate as we do not have uteruses or menstrual cycles.” He sighed. “I wish I had a uterus.”
“Inappropriate,” muttered Angela.
“Dwight, ewwww!” squealed Kelly.
Pam nodded. “Right,” she said solemnly. “I forgot.”
She caught Jim’s eye and winked. He winked back and Pam’s face lit up a little.
She was really beautiful.
“Um, the rules?” Karen asked again, tossing the dice back and forth in her hand.
“You role a combination to equal three, the Three Man drinks,” spoke up Oscar. “If you roll double threes, you become the three man.”
“Either die rolls a three, everyone drinks,” added Meredith.
“You roll a five combo, you kiss the person to your right,” said Kelly. “A seven, you kiss the person to your left.” She punctuated the statement with a wet kiss to the cheek of Ryan, short, scruffy, and annoyed looking. Jim wasn’t certain if Ryan went to their college, or even to college. He looked about 15.
“Double sixes you make a new rule,” Jim said. He remembered that one.
“Snake eyes is I‘ve Never,” Karen said. “That one I know.”
“A four combo is Truth or Dare,” Pam added.
“And I think that’s it, for now,” Oscar said. “Continue?
Karen nodded and tossed the dice.
A three and a two.
“Come on, Slim Jim,” Michael called out, “bottoms up.”
Jim raised his Labatt Blue bottle to Michael and took a sip.
“And it’s a five combo,” Meredith pointed out. “So Karen has to kiss the person to her right. Good round for you, Jim.”
“Hey,” Karen said quickly, turning to Jim on her right.
“Hey,” he said back.
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, amid groans.
“Lame ass,” Kelly sing-songed.
“Yeah,” echoed Kevin, whose eyes were nearly hidden under his fedora. “Lame ass.”
“The rules just say kiss,” Pam pointed out. “There’s no indication of how or where.”
Oscar nodded. “She’s right.”
“Maybe Karen has oral herpes,” Dwight suggested, “and doesn’t want to spread them.”
Karen threw the dice at Dwight. “I do not have oral herpes!” she shouted. With a sigh, she turned to Jim. “Fine. You mind?”
He shook his head. “It’s fine.”
It occurred to him that he should probably be more excited. Karen was undeniably gorgeous. But he was trying to sneak a look at Pam out of the corner of his eye.
Before he could discern her look, however, Karen pulled him close by his t-shirt and pressed her lips to his, hard.
It was forceful, certainly not romantic, but not at all unpleasant either, and it was over in about five seconds.
When the kiss ended, Jim glanced discretely across the circle. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, but he had a strange need to see the look on Pam’s face.
She was playing with a thread on the frayed hem of her jeans, concentrating on it, avoiding looking at anyone, almost as if she were trying to hide something.
Almost if she were trying to hide the fact that she was… jealous?
Why would Pam be jealous of a guy she’d just met less than two hours ago kissing Karen?
More importantly, Jim wondered, why was he hoping Pam was jealous of him kissing Karen? Or Karen kissing him. Whatever.
“My turn!” chirped Kelly.
Karen retrieved the dice and passed them.
Kelly rolled a three and a five. Everyone drank.
Ryan rolled double twos and got Oscar to reveal the location of his most daring sexual exploit: behind a post office.
Jim didn't ask with whom.
Michael’s turn. Double sixes.
“Okay…” he said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “From now on, any eight combo is Spin the Bottle. And you have to use tongue.”
“Michael,” Pam groaned.
“Adolescent,” Angela muttered. Then louder, “I refuse.”
“Then leave,” Meredith shot back, downing a gulp of her drink.
“Meredith!” Pam admonished. “Angela, you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
She was a peacekeeper. And a troublemaker. Jim liked that. He’d always walked that line a bit himself.
“Pam’s right,” Oscar agreed, the other peacekeeper. “But,” he added diplomatically, “if you’re not having fun and you want to go, we won’t be offended.”
Angela seemed to consider it.
“We can’t,” Dwight said, from between Michael and Angela, his chest puffing up slightly. “I am a volunteer sheriff’s deputy and I’m needed in the event of an emergency. In fact, I should report all of you for underage drinking.”
“Then we’ll report you for the sword in your dorm room,” Karen countered. “Totally against school policy. You’ll be shunned. And your sword will be confiscated.”
Dwight stared her down. “Nicely played, female. Fine, no reports will be made.”
He tossed the dice. Double threes.
“Two drinks for all and Dwight is the Three Man,” announced Kevin from under the hat.
Jim happily relinquished the boa and snorted with laughter as Dwight threw it around his neck with what could only be described as panache, causing a couple of feathers to loosen and fall into his beet concoction.
“Damn it,” Dwight groaned. “I molted in my drink.”
Angela admonished him against swearing as Jim bit the inside of his cheek so hard he almost tasted blood. Across the circle, he noticed Pam holding back laughter as well and caught her eye.
“Molted!” Jim mouthed, and Pam choked on her light beer.
“What did you say, fresh meat?” Dwight demanded, staring menacingly at Jim.
Really, the guy had some issues.
“Hey, I’m a freshman too,” Karen pointed out.
“So am I,” added Pam.
“So’s Ryan,” Kelly piped up.
So Ryan was in college. Jim wondered if maybe it was a Doogie Howser sort of situation. Ryan didn't seem like the wunderkind type though.
“So are you,” Ryan reminded Kelly, who rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, but I grew up in town,” she said. “So I know my way around.”
He rolled his eyes right back at her.
“Angela is also a… fresh woman,” Dwight said hesitantly, as if in concession.
“First year matriculated student,” she corrected primly. She sighed. “I suppose I’ll take my turn. But I refuse to do anything unseemly.”
“Duly noted,” snorted Meredith.
“Yeah,” giggled Kevin. “Duly noted.”
Angela tossed the dice. Two ones.
“Snake eyes,” said Karen. “That’s an I’ve Never.”
Angela sniffed. “What does that mean?”
“You say something you’ve never done,” Ryan explained. “And anyone who has done it has to take a drink.”
“Yeah,” Michael broke in, “like something dirty.”
“Whatever you want it to be,” Jim said quickly, worried that Angela’s icy glare would freeze Michael to stone.
Actually, that would be kind of fun to see.
He noticed Pam looking his way and caught her eye. Quickly, she looked away, raising her bottle to her lips again.
“Very well,” Angela announced. “I have never… visited Vatican City.”
Michael blew a raspberry. “Lame!”
Karen took a drink.
“You’re the only one who drank, Karen,” Kelly squealed. “So you have to tell the story.”
Karen shrugged. “Not much of a story,” she said. “My great grandfather was from Rome, so we went there when I was fifteen.”
“I’m so jealous,” Pam sighed. “I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. I think I’m going to study abroad there junior year.”
“In Rome?” Karen asked.
Pam shook her head. “I definitely want to see Rome, but I think I want to do the art history program in Florence.”
“Is that your major?” Jim asked. “Art history?” It was the first thing he’d really said out loud to her other than “Hey, I’m Jim.”
Pam shrugged. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “I think I’m going to major in psychology and double minor in art and art history. I want to be an art therapist.”
“What’s an art therapist?” Karen asked.
Kelly groaned. “Guys, can we save the coffee talk for coffee time? We’re still playing the game!”
“Right,” Pam said, picking up the dice. Jim made a mental note to look up art therapy and talk to her about it another time, if he got the chance, which he hopefully would.
Pam shook the dice and tossed them.
“Six and two is eight,” reported Oscar, “Pam has to spin the bottle.”
“Woohoo,” cat called Kevin, a canary-like grin spreading over the visible lower half of his face.
Pam accepted the empty vodka bottle from Meredith, laid it flat and spun.
The bottle spun in circles, slowed and stopped.
Michael hooted. “Jim, you sly dog, you.”
Story Notes:
The story is named for a drinking, etc. game I used to play with friends in college. It is not about Jim being the number three man, nor is it about any exploits involving three men. A lot of what happens/is said here actually did happen in real life, albeit not all in one night. I've just tried to assign moments to appropriate characters.
Also, I own nothing except my memories, none of which are copyrighted by NBC et al.
Also, I own nothing except my memories, none of which are copyrighted by NBC et al.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter is a good deal of exposition, which isn't my favorite, but necessary to present the characters in the context of this universe. If you feel a need for additional people, tell me who and I'll try to work them in. Hope y'all enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
For the record, I liked Karen, just not as Jim's girlfriend. I would have liked them as friends. I liked Pam and Karen as friends. Future chapters will earn the rating. Your thoughts are welcomed and appreciated.
