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FADE IN:
INT. THE OFFICE - DAY
Jim looks out of the window, heavyheartedly. Dwight talks closely to his face.
DWIGHT
You know, snow is really kind of a miracle. Inebriated Eskimos believed it was Santa crying from the heavens.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
JIM
Michael declared today a snow day, and he didn’t bother to tell me. I thought about leaving to avoid getting snowed in, but it’s stopped snowing --
CUT TO:
EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY
We cut to a big water puddle with no snow.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
JIM
-- so Michael demanded that I deserved the honor of locking up tonight, as a way of punishing Dwight for what he did... and I think that’s why he didn’t call him about the snow day either.
Dwight comically walks into the fame, looking at the camera.
DWIGHT
He is not punishing me! 1) We’ll be keeping what I did a secret, and
Jim is not in charge.JIM
Yes I am.
DWIGHT
Jim, I’m older than you and smarter than you, and there’s no way you’re my baby-sitter.
JIM
(mockingly stern)
No bark.
Dwight jumps in his seat a little.
DWIGHT
My eyes are on you.
JIM
(weak voice)
All four of them.
DWIGHT
Mmm, like the noble Ree-Yees, of Star Wars fame.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, DWIGHT’S DESK - DAY
Dwight holds up a picture of Ree-Yees, with a fourth eye drawn in.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
Jim talks to the camera.
JIM
I plan on doing whatever I want today.
(pause)
I’ll catch up on my reading. Watch the game. Follow up on other job opportunities, like sports writing, which I’ve always loved and been putting off...
Dwight pops into frame again.
DWIGHT
Ree-Yees would command that you don’t.
Jim tries to get him to move by pushing him with a yard stick.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, MAIN ROOM - DAY
Jim walks to his desk and installs a Nintendo Entertainment System into his monitor.
DWIGHT
(almost pained)
What are you doing?
(beat)
That’s Michael’s Nintendo.
JIM
I’m going to play RBI Baseball on Michael’s Nintendo.
Dwight smiles and shakes his head.
DWIGHT
Baseball: the lazy man’s cricket.
JIM
Cricket is nothing like baseball.
DWIGHT
That’s just my point...
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
DWIGHT
Baseball is a pansy sport; when I was a kid, we had our own version of baseball that made you a man by the end of it: there was no hitting, but we’d play it in the pitch black and the space between bases was a full mile. It would often be through witch hazel, which would smack into your face. That’s why I need to wear glasses. We called it murder ball. Patent pending.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, MAIN ROOM - DAY
DWIGHT
Jim, you shouldn’t be meddling around with his private property.
JIM
No, he gave me this... and I think I know why, there’s a lot of dirt in here.
(pause)
Are these crackers?
DWIGHT
It must of been when Michael was trying to kick Golden Grams.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
DWIGHT
The sugar became troublesome; like Jim here. Luckily he’ll be out of my hair.
(beat)
I pretty much demanded that I’d clean his video game machine.
(beat)
It’ll also keep Jim’s mind off of this and onto real work.
Behind Dwight, Jim places a drawing on the window that makes it appear that Dwight has an arrow through his head.
End of part one.
Part Two.
FADE IN:
INT. THE OFFICE - DAY
DWIGHT
Jim, I must clean this.
Dwight takes the Nintendo away from Jim.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
JIM
Dwight is trying to compensate after he put in an old-timey security system in Michael’s yard... without telling him.
(beat)
I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it was even funnier than it sounds.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE - DAY
Dwight is in the middle of his Nintendo cleaning regiment.
DWIGHT
(talking into a tape recorder)
Putting in grapefruit peals to clean the cartridge. Now putting the game in.
(beat)
The light still blinks.
(pause)
Hmm, maybe too much pulp.
He quickly gets out an orange.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE - DAY
Jim is reading off new cleaning instructions while Dwight is still tinkering with the NES, but still listening to Jim’s tutelage carefully.
JIM
(reading to Dwight)
Lubricate the tip with soap or other lubricant you prefer. Stand at the sink, and check the water temperature again.
DWIGHT
(to himself, whispering)
This can’t be right. That sounds filthy. Sounds like instructions for Vaginal Wash.
ANGLE ON: Jim making a funny face to the camera.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE - DAY
ON SOUNDTRACK: the sound of sports highlights.
Jim is watching YouTube while Dwight is still working feverishly on the Nintendo counsel. He now has a vacuum attachments out on his desk.
JIM
If we play Mario Bros, I get to be Sergio.
DWIGHT
You mean Mario?
JIM
No, he has an Italian name, but it sounds like... linguini?
DWIGHT
(concerned)
Luigi?
JIM
No, a real strong Italian name. Like Emlio, or Goomba, or... Federico Fellini?
DWIGHT
Goomba’s are those mushrooms guys!
JIM
No, those were called Cannelloni troopers!
Dwight realizes that he’s been had, and begins to vacuum the Nintendo. Jim puts his hand on Dwight’s, causing him to stop.
JIM (CONT’D)
I’m going to have to ask you to be quite when my job interviewer calls.
DWIGHT
(pained)
For what?
JIM
Sports writer.
DWIGHT
You were serious about that?
Jim nods condescendingly.
Dwight moves closer to Jim, dead serious.
DWIGHT (CONT’D)
A folly notion. You don’t have the passion or charisma to do that. Paper is your bailiwick, Jim, and you do it well, my young apprentice.
JIM
You’re two years older than me.
Dwight gives off a condescending smile to Jim.
JIM (CONT’D)
Well, we’ll just see what happens, all right?
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE - DAY
Jim is on his cell, using his speaker-phone, for Dwight’s connivance.
MAN
(sounds like a publicist)
I respect you Jim, so I’ll be blunt. You’re a nice guy and all, but you’re unremarkable for this kind of work.
JIM
Ah.
MAN
This job requires a kind of passion and zeal that you just don’t show for a job that requires running after stories.
(beat)
You’re too laid back.
(pause)
You don’t have the passion or charisma for this. Paper is your arena.
Dwight looks at Jim, acknowledging the familiar words he said to him. Jim moves his attention elsewhere.
JIM
Well... thanks, anyway.
MAN
Thanks, Jim.
Jim hangs up his cell and sadly stares into oblivion.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
DWIGHT
It was a stupid idea. You know how many sports writers there are? He might as well be a boot black or something reasonable.
(beat)
I had dreams too. I wanted to be a guidance counselor.
(pause)
I wonder why that didn’t work out?
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE - DAY
Jim is on the phone selling paper, but his eyes tells us that he’s someplace else.
ON SOUNDTRACK: 8-bit Legend of Zelda music plays.
Jim’s body language perks up.
Dwight is stabbing Jim like a Moblin with his foam sword.
Jim hangs up the phone.
JIM
Really?
DWIGHT
Fixed it!
JIM
Five dollar bet, per game.
DWIGHT
On.
CUT TO:
INT. THE OFFICE, TALKING-HEAD ROOM - DAY
The two play RBI Baseball.
DWIGHT
The game is boring. You can’t kill anyone at all.
END.
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