December 21, 1978

As my father had foretold, I endured two more years of being shunned until my sixth birthday had finally come and gone. The Outside World, forbidden to me since birth, remained elusive. Today marked a significant occasion as my Aunt Shirley was due to arrive at Schrute Farms. It had been an eternity since my father had laid eyes on her, the last encounter being at his wedding. I, however, had no recollection of her appearance, leaving me to wonder about the formidable woman who was about to enter our lives.

Under my father's strict orders, I set about cleaning the entire premises in preparation for Aunt Shirley's arrival. Even my own room was not exempt from the cleaning frenzy. My grandfather, mother, and great-grandfather were all enlisted in this effort to present a pristine abode to our distinguished guest.

And then, I saw her. Aunt Shirley emerged from her buggy with an authoritative presence, her footsteps resonating throughout the house. Her stature matched her reputation, as she was indeed a force to be reckoned with. Accompanying her was a young boy, presumably her own son.

"Dwight Sr.," Aunt Shirley motioned to my father, her tone laced with lingering resentment. "It has been a long time, Shirley. I still haven't forgiven you for the stunt you pulled at my wedding all those years ago," my father, Dwight Sr., responded, puffing on his pipe with an air of nonchalance.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help but observe the interaction between my father and Aunt Shirley. "And who is this strapping young lad?" my father inquired, gesturing towards the boy.

"That's Mose. Mose Schrute, the next heir," Aunt Shirley introduced him.

The revelation struck me, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Mose. Growing up with a mother like Aunt Shirley must have been challenging, to say the least. But my father, seizing the moment, wasted no time in asserting his claim.

"Oh, I'm afraid the time is nigh to be looking at your next heir because," my father said, pointing directly at me, "the next heir is right here."

Aunt Shirley, clearly understanding the subtext of their exchange, retorted, "Oh, I see how we're playing this, Dwight," referring to their father, not me. Lost in their argument, I turned my attention to Mose, contemplating the difficult circumstances he must be raised with a person Aunt Shirley to put it bluntly.

As I settled into the bunk bed, my new bunkmate Mose joined me. "So, Mose, this will be our sanctuary," I declared, taking the bottom bunk with utmost confidence. "You see, in the event of an emergency, the bottom bunk is the safest place to be. You can't accidentally fall off and break anything. I've always been a bottom bunker, as you can see."

Mose looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Bunk beds, the sanctuary of today," he murmured as he climbed into his bed. I observed him for a moment, contemplating our shared predicament. It seemed only fair to address the elephant in the room.

"Hey, just because my father harbors resentment towards your aunt, it doesn't mean I should hate you, right?" I ventured, hoping to establish some common ground.

Mose remained silent for a moment, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. "I don't know," he finally replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Very well," I conceded, accepting his response. "You know, you share a passing resemblance to the biblical Moses. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you?" I inquired, genuinely curious.

"I don't know, maybe," Mose replied casually. "My Aunt Shirley once mentioned that Jehovah's Witnesses are part of a higher organization trying to take over."

This revelation piqued my interest. "What sort of secret organization are they working for? The FBI? The MIA? The Illuminati?" I questioned.

Mose paused, contemplating the possibilities. "Um, maybe all of them," he replied.

. "This is a slight possibility," I mused, intrigued by the idea of a grand conspiracy involving Jehovah's Witnesses.

With our conversation winding down, it was time to bid each other goodnight. "Alright, goodnight, Mose," I said, my voice laced with a touch of warmth.

"See you in the morning, Dwight," Mose responded, his words carrying a sense of camaraderie as we settled in for the night.