Chapter Four

Jim looked up as Michael loudly entered the office, his head covered in a giant orange pumpkin, with jagged holes cut out.

'Hey, Pampkin, any messages?' he said, then burst out laughing at his own wit. Pam, wearing a plastic crooked nose and witch's hat looked at Michael in an exasperated kind of way and handed him the morning faxes.

'Great. Oh, love it Stanley! Will Smith, right?'

Stanley, who was wearing round shades and leathery jacket, muttered, 'No, I'm Morpheus, or something. Never heard of him but it was my wife's idea.'

'He's from that new film, The Matrix. I saw it last week,' said Dwight dismissively, who was a classic, blood-stained zombie.

'Hang on, I didn't know zombies could talk. Aren't you going to stay in character?' said Jim.

'Ha, nice try. If I ever came back as a zombie I would still be able to talk. I tune and consolidate my vocal chords every morning and evening, which gives me the strongest possible voicebox.'

'So that's why you never shut up,' muttered Jim.

'What are you supposed to be anyway? Didn't you realise we dress up for Halloween?'

'Yes, I did,' said Jim, showing Dwight the stick he found in the parking lot. 'I'm a wizard.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' sneered Dwight. 'Where are your robes, idiot? And that doesn't remotely resemble a wand.'

'I'm in my Muggle clothes. And I would prove this wand is real, but I can't use magic outside of Hogwarts, so ...'

Dwight stared at the stick warily and mumbled, 'That's true.'

There was a long pause.

'Expelliarmus!' said Jim suddenly, and Dwight jumped so violently he fell out his desk chair.

Pam giggled. Jim had been Dwight's deskmate for a month, and he had since learned how to deal with him. Dwight was nowhere near as intimidating or authoritative as he made out to be, but he was exceptionally annoying at times; on the other hand, Jim was less than ten feet from Pam, so he had a love-hate relationship with his location in the office. Whenever he was distracted from his work, which was a lot, he would either chat with Pam at reception, or else plot ways to wind up Dwight. He had also acclimatised himself to Michael's unorthodox management styles and obnoxious personality. While the work was no fun, he could hardly call this place dull.

'Listen up, dumbkins,' said Michael, waiting for someone to laugh. No one did. 'I have organised a little game of touchy-feely in the Conference Room at two o'clock, especially for Halloween. I will draw the blinds 'til then, so no peeking, or you will be disqualificated.'

At two o'clock that afternoon, Michael ordered all the lights to be turned off and they congregated reluctantly in the Conference Room for Michael's mysterious game.

'As you can see,' Michael said, his voice muffled through the pumpkin, 'I have laid out ten boxes, each containing something nice or something that will make you poop your pants.'

'What's in it for us?' asked Angela.

'I haven't finished yet Angela – jeez, Stanley, can you even see anything with those glasses on?'

At the back of the dark room sat Stanley with his shades. Michael was right, there was no way Stanley could see anything, but his head was bowed and his breathing was deep and slow. Jim couldn't see his eyes, but he would bet his paycheck they were closed.

'Just leave him, he's diabetic, he needs to rest,' muttered Michael dismissively. 'OK, I thought we could split into teams and the winner is whoever can name the most objects correctly. And the winner will receive –' he fished in his jacket and extracted a CD '– my copy of the new Britney Spears album Baby One More Time.'

Jim and Pam exchanged looks and Kevin sniggered.

'You bought a girl's album, Michael?' he said.

'What? No, it was – a friend gave it to me. My girlfriend actually.'

'You never said you had a girlfriend,' said Kevin.

'That's irrelevant, Kevin, can we just play the game?'

'There's only one CD, Michael, how can the whole team win –'

'You know what Angela, why don't you write up your complaint and stick it in the Things I Don't Care About file. God.'

There was an awkward silence.

'OK, teams,' said Dwight. 'Since this is a hand receptor task, we will divide up based on hand-eye coordination and fear stimulation –'

'No, Dwight, cut it out – just have two captains, and we'll pick numbers. Er, Jim, Dwight, you can be captains.'

'Yes,' said Dwight triumphantly, glaring at Jim, who sauntered forwards. The rest of the office put their heads together and chose numbers.

'I will choose first as the superior captain,' said Dwight. 'Four.'

Pam stepped forward, giving Jim a You're on glare, and Jim widened his eyes in mock fear. Jim ended up with Phyllis, Devon, Creed and Tom, leaving Dwight with Pam, Meredith, Oscar and Kevin. Stanley was still dozing, Toby had been told to leave by Michael immediately after asking if there had been a powercut and Kelly was too scared to play.

The boxes were coupled, one bad with one good, and the teams competed in pairs.

Jim and Dwight went first, not breaking eye contact with each other as they inserted a hand into their box. Jim had to stifle his laughter as Dwight started twitching, and his pupils dilated in fear. Jim felt only a smooth spherical surface and a thin stalk.

'Apple,' he said, and pulled it out the box.

'Dwight?' pressed Michael.

'Um …' said Dwight shakily. He quickly retracted his hand, a bead of sweat on his brow. 'No idea.'

Michael lifted the lid and Meredith squealed. It was a large, hairy spider.

'OK, one point to Jim, none for the scaredy-cat. Who's next,' said Michael, and Dwight looked away sheepishly.

They continued to play in pairs.

'Oh I know exactly what that is,' muttered Creed, frowning in concentration. 'It's one of those Brazilian anacondas, but it's asleep, thank God.'

'No … it's a shoe, Creed,' said Michael, lifting the lid.

Creed raised his glasses and squinted in the box.

'Right you are, boss. Size twelve …'

He examined the shoe for a second, then stuffed it in his pocket when no one was looking.

Later that afternoon, Pam hissed Jim's name. He approached her desk.

'What's up?'

She said nothing but gestured him closer and he saw a box containing a hairy spider.

'Would it be mean to hide it in Dwight's desk? I tried earlier,' she said.

'You're kidding.'

'What?'

'I've been working here for a month, and never found out you like pranks too?'

'Well, I must be pretty good at them, if you've never noticed,' she said.

'Leave it to me,' said Jim and furtively took the box to his desk.

When Dwight left for the bathroom, Jim grabbed Dwight's phone and a roll of sellotape. Careful not to squash the poor thing, Jim taped her legs to the underside of the phone and set it back in place, so it remained hidden from Dwight's vision.

Ten minutes later, when Dwight was settled at his desk again, Jim slyly looked at Pam and winked. He listened with anticipation as she tapped on her own phone. Dwight's rang.

'Hello, this is Dwight Schr– ARRGGGHHHHHHHH!'