Author Notes: Goodbye Karen, it's been fun knowing you. You will be missed. Not by many people (off the top of my head: me and... ummm... maybe - no... I'll get back to you on that). Please visit any time. Especially if it's to make out with Pam.

I'm not spoiled, but I'm extrapolating on the interview plot and the fact that Rashida Jones has signed on with another show. I'd bet my life savings (just slightly over $2000) that she'll be gone by the end of this story arc, if not Thursday's finale, then early next season.

She found herself standing in the middle of a courtroom, handcuffs around her slim wrists, the crowd atitter as the jury of mostly angry looking women sat back down among the benches and the foreman stood to deliver their verdict.

"Your honor," he said, "we the jury find the defendant guilty." And the crowd erupted in shouting, excited discussions, and cheers. Didn't anyone else but her find it tacky to cheer about a guilty verdict?

Judge Snyder banged his gavel and the crowd calmed somewhat, but the satisfaction of those assembled was clear. "The court finds Karen Filipelli guilty of the heinous crime of dating Jim while not being Pam, and hereby sentence you to a horrible, horrible death. May God have mercy on your soul!"

Suddenly the roof of the courthouse tore open, as if the grand old building had been caught in a tornado, except for the shafts of heavenly light streaming in from the skies. A booming voice echoed throughout the chamber as the judge, jury, executioner (why was there an executioner there already? And why was he wearing the hood and black tights with no shirt like in those medieval movies?), audience, and Karen cowered beneath the rumbling deity. "I'D RATHER NOT," said Mr. Deity, and smote her with a lightning bolt, leaving just a charred patch of floor in her place (with intact shoes, of course).

The smoke cleared in a few seconds. After picking himself up off the floor, the foreman nervously straightend his tie and looked up at God. "Ummm... sir. While we respect your judgement and appreciate your enthusiasm, we feel that a lightning strike just isn't gruesome enough, and we'd kinda like to maybe do it ourselves. Could you, y'know, bring her back?" he said, apprehensively.



God sighed, dejectedly. "FINE," grumbled the Almighty. "YOU'D BETTER NOT SCREW UP."

"Oh, we won't, Lord!" the foreman shouted, bouncing in giddy glee as Karen popped back into existence. "Denny, it's back on! Get the rusty screwdriver!"

Karen bolted upright in her bed. Well, actually it was Jim's bed. He barely stirred, though, instead mumbling, contentedly dreaming. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but she'd been having troubling dreams like this one far too frequently for her liking - and they never failed to wake her, trembling in abject terror. But she was being crazy right? It's not like the entire world was out to get her. It couldn't be. The suspicious looks she gets from people, the sneers and the jeers... must be something else. Heck, she's probably imagining the whole thing.

She settled back down against Jim's sleeping form, letting herself relax and get comfortable as she felt his arms automatically come around her to embrace her body. Her overworked imagination wouldn't leave her alone, though. Sometimes, just being held in his arms isn't enough.

Look at him, sleeping like a baby, a tiny smile on his face. She was certain that he wasn't dreaming about her.

End Notes: For the record, Jim is dreaming about Pam and Karen in bikinis fighting over him in a big vat of Jell-O.