So... back with a heavyweight Jam (much sooner than I expected, too.) As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Do please enjoy.

Jim Halpert and Pam Beesly Are the Office Block Persecution Affinity: A desperate campaign for desperate times.

Phase ONE: "The Village Green Preservation Society"

Jim, very slowly, as thought measuring out each word: If someone asked me two days ago if I thought I would be instigating a cultural revolution... in Scranton...

He seems almost frozen in time as he grapples with the concept.

Jim, shaking his head in resignation: I don't know what I'd say.

It was an ambitious project and Jim and Pam were not known for being especially ambitious, unless there were special circumstances like, say, a really excellent opportunity to execute a truly beautiful prank, which this happened to be. Even now, as he casually watched her sifting her green teacup under her nose, he had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from bursting out laughing at the pure esoteric beauty of it all.

"Sometimes I think I brew tea just for the smell," she told him nostalgically. He had also thought there was something incredibly nostalgic to Pam. "I mean, I'll tell myself I'm just waiting for it to cool so I don't burn my tongue, but..." She looked up at him and realized that he was smiling in way disturbingly similar to the Joker or Aphex Twin. She was suddenly horribly self-conscious. "What?"

"Nothing," he said simply, nearly crying as he tried to himself hold back.

Her eyes expanded like oceans as she voiced her deepest fear. "Oh God, I sound like Dwight, don't I?"

Now he couldn't keep himself from laughing. "Not even slightly." He had always meant to ask her if she had adequately disinfected the tip of the teapot after Dwight had jammed it up his nostril, but he was confident the combination of fire and water the teapot encountered as a matter of course could kill even Schrute-germs and, anyway, the last thing he wanted was hang a lantern on the most glaring imperfection of his most visible gesture towards her.

"Then what?" She darted about, trying to locate what could possibly be so amiss with her person to generate such a reaction.

For his part, Jim's only response was a sly grin and shake of his head. "You'll see," he assured her, fighting the impulse to add a diabolical "they'll all see" afterward.


Jim: I have come up with... I don't want to call it a prank...

Jim serious-jims.

Jim: It's more a work of Art...


Jim: That will make Dwight very unhappy...


Jim: And I can only do it when I know Michael is going to be out of town for a while and Pam can't know about it ahead of time because...

He struggles with what he wants to say.

Jim: ...the part of my brain that came up with this didn't exist before I met her... and...

Jim jim-shrugs.

Jim: ...I just really want her to be surprised by this one. I don't know.


As the day went on, Jim found himself spending more and more time nursing his idea in the back of his head. Drawing up hypothetical blueprints, adding windows and hardwood floors in his mind. New dimensions and new planes for it to interesect. He honestly tried to maintain his usual level of productivity (i.e., very little), but always his mind came back to his dream.

In his mind, he had already plotted it out as a film and convinced Wes Anderson to direct, knowing full well that he had effectively cast Luke Wilson as himself. (He accepted this. After all, Legally Blonde wasn't really that bad. What he had seen of it, anyway.) The film would, of course, end with the prank falling apart, but his character would have grown in some charming quirky fashion and the whole experience would be richly nostalgic.

He allowed himself one of his regular wistful glances towards reception.

This was Pam's prank and he knew it.

He'd tried to write songs, poems, love letters... none of them seemed quite right for their relationship (or whatever it was). This felt right.

So he did what he always did when he was at work and he was struck by something really important: he emailed the idea to himself (using only his personal email address, obviously, there was no way Michael could find out about this one) and waited for the right moment.


Jim cast a glance across his desk to the Schrute across from him. Dwight was banging away on his keyboard with such fury that Jim was half-surprised that keys weren't flying through the air from the sheer pressure he was stabbing them with. "Hey, Dwight," Jim asked playfully, "who is your favorite revolutionary figure?"

"I do not have a favorite terrorist, Jim," Dwight did not even look up from his computer, though the rhythm of his pounding had slowed significantly, "and if you do, I'm sure my friends at the Lackawanna County sheriff's office would be happy to discuss it with you."

Jim cocked his head and smiled, this was exactly what he had been looking for. "Well, not every revolutionary is a terrorist... what about George Washington? Thomas Paine?"

Dwight gave the typical snort of contempt. "Terrorists."

Jim's eyes went a tad wider. "Really?"

"The Boston Tea Party was an act of terror," Dwight said stated blankly as he cleaned his glasses with his tie. "No one has the right separate from their own government." After a pause of a greater length than he was probably aiming for, Dwight added "that's why we had the Civil War."

Jim tried to hold himself back, but he just wasn't strong enough. "You realize we wouldn't have had the Civil War if we hadn't broken away from England in the first place?"

Dwight clearly hadn't taken this into account, but choose not to admit defeat. "I meant the one in Marvel Comics," we muttered lamely.

Jim didn't see how that negated his point on any level, but opted to let Dwight have that one. "So, what would you have done to the Founding Fathers?"

"Strung them up," Dwight said with smug certainty. "Same as any other terrorist."

Jim responded with the typical "jim-nod," then let the silence set in for a moment.

As soon as Dwight resumed his angry typing, Jim spoke again. "So... what are you working on?"

Dwight froze. "Paper... sales..."

Jim nodded again. "Oh... I've heard of that."

"Right," Dwight croaked pathetically.

Jim merely waved his hand to indicate that Dwight should continue.

As soon as the sounds of typing began once more, Jim leaned over his desk to get a look at Dwight's computer. "Let me just see..."

"No, Jim!" Dwight cried as covered his screen with his left hand while his right tried to push Jim back. "No!"

Back at her desk, Pam shook her head and tried to get back to work.


Jim, thoughtfully: I wonder how my lawyer will feel about me using comedy as a defense when they put me on trial for treason...