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Bitter Truth	By : InnocentIntentions Category: M through R > The Office Views: 5313 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Office (U.S.) © adapted by Greg Daniels; produced by Deddle-Dee Productions, Shine America & Universal Television. I do not claim copyright or ownership of the characters, show-related content nor am I profiting in anyway.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Bitter Truth

Notes:
Let’s see how their obscene car ride turns out :)
Please stay with me, what you have been waiting for is about to begin! As this is my first mature fiction please view me kindly if you can.

Copyright:
The Office (U.S.) © Adapted by Greg Daniels; produced by Deedle-Dee Productions, Shine America & Universal Television. I do not claim copyright or ownership of the characters, show-related content nor am I profiting in anyway.

Chapter 2: Impressions are Often Misleading

Twenty minutes into the journey down Route 6, Dwight continued to speed with his passenger through the extensive, scenic northern tier. Bypassing the valley of Scranton and its suburbs, the ancient vehicle followed the I-84 bestride the Susquehanna River, a mountainous high way famous for its observation of lakes and forest wildlife. The Poconos region had always been densely wooded, the endless mountains serving as a prime location for national parks, ski resorts and recreational destinations.
The most suitable form of transit through this remote location was by car, which suited their venture wonderfully. They were making great progress, hitting Ariel Lake, the halfway marker, eight minutes ahead of schedule. Jim found himself relaxing, actually enjoying the trip. Upon viewing the evening twinkle atop natural spring water fizzing in the distance, the passenger experienced tranquility. Despite having to put up with classic rock blaring from a cassette player, he found himself content to watch the beautiful world flash by.
The glittering surface peeking out from an evergreen vale beckoned memories of summer fishing trips to his grandparent’s private cabin. It too was lost within the recesses of the mountain along with fragments of a pleasant childhood. He recalled passing this lake dozens of times, roaring out lyrics and participating in an alphabetical word game in the back seat with his older brothers.
Fondly, Jim smiled. He never was all that good at the silly ABC tournament, easily frustrating himself while his siblings scored higher and higher. Confident that they had an advantage because they were a few centimeters taller, Jim often lost amid triumphant high-fives, sometimes dolling out unsportsmanlike blows until his brothers teamed up against him. But it had all been in clean, wholesome fun, causing him to reflect on a much simpler time.
As Ariel Lake disappeared from site, a pang of sadness hit. Man, he missed home. How long had it been? A few months, three years? The Halpert clan had relocated to upstate New York ages ago while Jim remained stuck in Scranton pursuing his career in paper.
Sighing, Jim glanced at his flat-faced leather watch.
“Two thirty-five, exactly,” The driver announced, “You can thank me later for my cartographical expertise.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” Jim chuckled, folding up the cuffs of his shirt to his elbows due to the stuffy atmosphere of the ’87 Pontiac, “We actually made great time! Shouldn’t we be there in ten minutes?”
“More or less.” Hawley was an accessible drive meandering through winding, steep mountain paths with nonexistent traffic. Dwight knew this, having visited relatives in the heart of Amish Lancaster County. Most city folk avoided the mountains as if from a plague. Dwight viewed that mentality absurd and deemed suburban life as a frivolous necessity. The delusional beet farmer was grateful only for internet at his homestead and the urban districts which from time to time rallied in conventions and conferences for Battlestar Galatia and numerous other science-fiction fandoms he followed.

Just as Robert had said, the building was quaint. The potted daisies were a cheerful addition. Yellow petals bobbed lazily in the autumn breeze, their fragrance lining the smooth sandstone pavement that led up to a bleached porch. While climbing worn stairs, Jim became inwardly pleased by a charming brass bell which dangled from the teal door handle. Indeed, the place reeked of nostalgia and grandmothers.
Giving a sharp rap on the wood, Dwight stepped back. A plumb, middle-aged woman appeared behind a screen. Finding visitors, she alerted her husband who joined her in heartily welcoming both men. Enviously, Jim forced himself into the office without sitting on one of the cherry rockers reclining upon the veranda. Narrow yet somehow cozy, a hall trailed throughout the office, connecting a few rooms to the main lobby where the lady served as receptionist. A floral couch bent under the weight of the two gentlemen as the unknown corporation head pulled a thin oak chair up to the glass-plated coffee table.
“Please, make yourselves at home!” He cheerfully warbled, “Do you like it? My wife, little Susan over there, designed the whole place.” Pride was evident, almost comical due to the man’s own muscular and rough exterior amongst such a dainty vicinity, “Coffee, tea?”
Dwight enthusiastically accepted, holding china up for the man to pour Darjeeling over the two sugar cubs settled at the base of his cup. Jim appreciatively sipped on a freshly brewed mug of amaretto. Spying the chap biting into a sliver of coffee cake, a compliment fell from coffee-tinged lips,
“Thank you so much, this place is lovely.” The homeowner surged, joy spreading unrestrained. Soon after, glazed cutlery came to rest on a coaster set.
“Now then,” The burly man pulled out a notebook and official looking pen, “I suppose we are ready to begin?”

“Oh yeah, we did it!” Throwing up his hands, Dwight’s index and pinky extended while the remaining fingers formed a bull, assisting his announcement,
“Jimmy H, everybody, yow!” In return, Jim pumped his hand in a triumphant fist,
“Rock on.” Even his composed manner crumpled over the successful outturn. Having sealed a merger with their competition, the pair strode confidently into the parking lot. Exiting the picturesque storefront, Dwight no longer could contain his enthusiasm,
“Really, I’m impressed Jim. The way you swayed that meeting in Dunder Mifflin’s favor while providing for that struggling business…how did you do it?”
“Oh you know, all in a day’s work.” Though praise bolstered within his chest, Jim simply shrugged, feeling as though in a minute he would be caught whistling.
“It touched my heart strings.” Dwight’s expression was dead serious, “There has to be a secret.” Unused to such profusions from his typical enemy, Jim noticed how his cheeks were burning hot. He fidgeted with his suitcase, slinging the strap over one shoulder as they progressed closer towards Dwight’s car.
“Nope, there isn’t. I’ve been in that sort of situation before, you know? So I know how it feels when you’re stuck at the end of a bad deal.”
“Yeah but you are so sincere, offering the lowest prices possible and presenting an ultimatum only when we almost lost his bid. I don’t get it. If it were me, I would have slammed them with everything I had so that they would be begging to have my business!”
“Hahaha, well that’s one tactic…but I’ve noticed that people respond better to kindness. Plus it helps when they can tell you actually care. Too many corporations are only interested in sucking up their consumers’ paychecks instead of catering to their needs.”
“It’s the flow of supply and demand,” The German stated, digging for his keys in a loose pocket, “Well for one thing, I’m going to demand Robert give you a raise when we get back.”
“What? No, really, don’t!” Jim sputtered, “It was the least I could do, you know, just doing my job. I would have really hated to run that family shop out of business. Their agreement to merge as one of DM’s local paper supply outlets was wise. Win-win for us all.”
“Win-win-win,” Dwight quoted, unlocking his car, “Only because you made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“Alright, alright,” Jim threw up his hands in mock embarrassment before sliding into his seat, “Enough-no more Godfather jokes, okay?”
“Fine Jim, ruin a solid phrase like that. You just have no respect, no respect.”
“Now you’re quoting Rodney Dangerfield.”
“And why not? He’s a stand up guy, an epic comedian.” Dwight argued, tugging his belt strap downwards.
“As he was a standup comedian, I have to agree.” The play on words lit up a twinkle in his companion’s eyes which he immediately crushed by harsh advice, “Just don’t ever say epic again.”
“Ha hah, very funny! But guess what genius?” Dwight watched as Jim expectantly turned his attention to the insignia-stamped rectangular piece of paper fixed between two knuckles, “You forgot to hand them our business card!”
“What!” Exclaimed Jim, patting his pant legs and shirt to make sure the one he had saved especially for these clients was no longer there, “Really? I thought for sure I…”
“Well you didn’t. Go ring their stupid little bell while I rev up the engine.”
“Yeah, thanks man. You really saved us there.” It would have been such a shame to have forgotten to do so, all appearances of quality and professionalism washed down the drain by a single mistake.
Jim fled the vehicle, almost sprinting back to the office before their closing hours. In the meantime, Dwight twiddled his thumbs, stuffing a tiny company card into the cigarette burner. All of a sudden, a light bulb seemed to go off in his head, for Dwight unbuckled himself and exited his precious car. Patting the slick metal sides, Dwight made his way to the trunk and unlocked the compartment.
Pattering footsteps sounded. Dwight decided to look up from what he was rummaging through as his name was called out. Now Jim had closed the distance in a few bounds, proving his athletic claims as valid. Still two feet away, Dwight quickly chucked his angular briefcase inside, tucking it below a small Persian rug lining the garbage-filled basin. Although it was an expensive material, concern and comfort for his farm’s livestock and personal pets, such as Henrietta the porcupine, far exceeded price tabs.
“They take it?” Slamming the trunk shut, Dwight twisted the keys to the right, confirming that his equipment was secure.
“Uh huh,” Jim nodded, beaming while regaining his breath, “And what nice people. They handed me a plate of cookies to share with you. See, look!” Celafain wrapping fell away from balls of dough still piping hot with chocolate oozing from the center, “Want one?”
“Do I want glucose filling up my lower intestines?” Dwight asked incredulously, sneering at the plastic tray of baked delights, “I’d rather not.”
“Your loss,” Jim munched cheerfully, “I’m sure Pam and Cici will love them!” The mention of family made him think of the warm meal and side of affection he was bound to experience after a hard day’s work. Rounding the car, Jim hopped into the driver’s seat and clicked his seat belt into place.
“Get out.” Shocked by the rude command, Jim almost dropped the plate of unwanted cookies,
“But…don’t you usually sit behind the driver’s seat?” A thick eyebrow rose in question as Jim listened to Dwight’s explanation,
“Did I drive up here in the back seat? No.” Grumbling, he continued to rant, “For your information, although it is the safest location in a moving car, today I’ve had to transport us all over town. No, no, I don’t want you offering to take the wheel. Why? Because I don’t trust your driving capabilities, simple as that! Besides, it’d be better if I drove instead of shouting directions. Be a good citizen and move to the passenger side.”
Despite initially moving to the steering wheel in order to repay the weary employee’s kindness only to be scorned, Jim was impressed. Dwight was being logical for once, albeit a little rude compared to the rest of their decently enjoyable business trip.

Pulling out of the parking lot, the duo hopped onto the reversed highway which directed the pair back towards Scranton. While the miles racked up on the meter, the two occupants drove silently, satisfied amid the peace and quiet of country life. Countless acres stormed by dotted with sheep and grazing black cows. Jim could see why Dwight adored that farm of his. It seemed that if by magic, dreams flowed seamlessly with the notion of cultivating produce out in open fields under clear skies. Out here, away from the commotion of city life, you could truly breathe in the bounty of the land.
Quietly at first, the taunt chords of Van Halen soon manifested into a bombardment of harsh noise. Caught in the scenic reverie, Jim had not realized when Dwight had slipped out an old cassette tape from the dashboard and pushed it into the outdated player. While the first tape blared away, Dwight was busy blowing through the twin holes of another, attempting to unsettle collected dust which had been caught between the plastic rims. He gave up shortly afterwards, knowing it would work just fine unlike CDs which were unusable after a minor scratch.
Air-guitaring every so often, Dwight rocked out, capable of multitasking on the road. At first, Jim was a bit worried however apprehension soon dissolved due to the lack of cars. As the rhythm took hold of him, he found himself humming along with “Everybody Wants Some!!” while nodding his head to the heavy guitar-driven track. The unapologetic carnal celebration thriving upon a jungle bass and drum tempo led the driver to note that it was a classic.
A faint smile lingered upon Jim Halpert’s thin lips, the crook drawn up ever so slightly. Mentally he agreed, tapping a finger absentmindedly against his thigh. The travel home seemed to melt, carried away by hit after hit of hard rock melodies as the 1987 Pontiac Trans Am strolled through Pennsylvania’s cultivated pastoral landscape.

Beads of perspiration had formed upon the flat, milky brow of Dwight Shrute who was still caught up head banging crazily in the front seat. After thirty minutes transpired, Jim commented,
“You might want to tone it down a bit. Wouldn’t want to snap your neck or anything, would you?” Sneering at Jim’s gesture of goodwill, Dwight grudgingly complied, sinking back into the mesh fabric covering the vehicle’s interior. Decidedly bored, the glasses-bearer resorted to counting hay bales which littered the rustic outcropping. Sighing after losing interest in his pathetic attempt of entertainment, Dwight’s long-held patience suddenly burst into a series of complaints.
“It’s too stuffy in here Jim! Time to cool off.” He cranked the temperature knob to the coldest level then leaned over to lower the glass planes trapping heat inside the van.
“No, no, don’t roll the windows down-that’ll only make it hotter!” Jim warned, stilling Dwight’s forearm which had flown from the steering wheel with his right hand in order to prevent the hapless chauffeur from creating an accident.
“Okay fine you chicken, I’ll keep them closed.” The road demanded his full attention thus Dwight obeyed, “But I claim all the vents!”
“Sure, take the vents,” Jim conceded, nonchalantly eyeing how Dwight instantly rotated all the slated metal apertures directly towards his pear-shaped torso.
“After all, we don’t want you to get heatstroke.” Jim happily added as the vehicle swerved off an exit ramp and onto the main farm road. Astonished that their conversation had remained sweet for such a long duration, Jim cut his one-liners and gazed out the window yet again.
“Hey, can you find us directions?” The request did not occur until much later. Yet all the same, it startled a day dreaming Jim, whose chin shifted off knuckles in order to state his confusion,
“Huh…er, why?”
“The sun is setting. Obviously, it’s hard to see the map.” Due to its mention, this was the first time Jim observed a vividly colored booklet spread over Dwight’s lap.
“I thought you had the route memorized.”
“I do, Jim.” Dwight snapped, “However, combined with dusk, the length of our trip and that meeting, I’m exhausted. Really tuckered out.”
“That’s a strange word-tuckered-yeah, I don’t like it.” Jim prattled, throwing a dubious smirk at the driver who became bewildered once his diction was criticized,
“But…I guess so.” Sympathetic, Jim finally relented, “I thought you didn’t trust technology. What if I get us lost?”
“You’ll suffice.” There it was. Now it was all too easy for sarcasm to slip out,
“Well, only because I suffice.” Unaware of Jim’s displeasure, Dwight shoved the map into his companion’s face. Laughing, Jim snagged it and crumpled the map into a ball, tossing it over his shoulder as he pulled out an Iphone.
Once they had neared the outskirts of Scranton, the landscape became familiar and no longer imposing. He could not have asked for a lovelier day. And it continued to be so until events strangely began to sour.
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Bitter Truth