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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
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Bitter Truth

Notes:
And so it begins. The next chapter is what you want c:

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 3: Blind as Those Who Will Not See

Ahead, a red light flashed. Rolling to a stop at the intersection, Dwight observed that the pressure of traffic and heavy smog vacated small country towns such as this. Only one car, an aged Volkswagen, chugged to a halt facing the much older Pontiac carrying two salesmen home after a tiresome yet productive day.
Loosening his tie, Dwight exhaled. Even Jim had to admit how sticky the car had become in the autumn humidity. Copying his companion’s strategy, the lengthy individual rolled his cuffs, taking a moment to check MapQuest on his phone.
“Hey Dwight, I think we took the wrong exit. Yeah, back over by McCarthy Avenue.” Highways, with their numerous loops and crisscrossing patterns, are notorious for causing an unwary traveler to become lost. Rural highways in Pennsylvania took it to another level altogether. Riding through pastures, street junctions and small towns, the pair had unknowingly been circling outside of their hometown for a while now.
“Don’t worry about it, I recognize the terrain.” Brushing off concern, Dwight volunteered, “I wager we are not but fifteen minutes away from Shrute farms. We could head that way.”
“All the same,” Jim said, “I’d be more comfortable if we found a gas station and asked for directions.”
“You sure? I know a short cut.” Without questioning it, Dwight shifted into first gear and spun a U-turn to satisfy Jim, “Alright. I thought I spotted a Chevron a few streets back.” Dayton, Madison and Lafayette Street blurred past and in minutes, the joint gas and 7Ups station came into view. With the store meters down the road, an unforeseen accident occurred.
“Ah my eyes!” Dwight screeched, his hands flying off the steering wheel in the process. Fortunately, Jim intercepted the spinning device while Dwight continued to rub fiercely at his stinging nasal passage. The bobbling car swerved onto an embankment, spraying gravel and grass particles everywhere, churning beneath the weight of thread-bare wheels. Brought to a standstill, the Pontiac jolted, rocking its inhabitants as Jim successfully pulled off into the emergency lane.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jim exclaimed, “We could have crashed!”
“Oh come off it Jim,” Glaring with crimson-streaked corneas, Dwight whined, “I have the hand-eye coordination of an osprey. But ah my eyes! They’re bloodshot! Quick, quick; get some water!”
“All I have is Coke.”
“You’re good for nothing! Go get my suitcase.”
“And where might that be?” Jim asked sardonically, not spying the case in the front compartment or resting on the interior back seating.
“Look in the trunk, idiot.” Ordered like a bellhop, Jim sat resolute, not desiring to fetch the suitcase like an average mongrel. Instead, he fiddled with his seatbelt. When his passenger did not instantly heed his call, Dwight continued on, his pitch strained,
“I can’t see Jim, I really can’t! I think I might be going blind.” He sounded so pitiful and Jim hated the unceasing dirge that would not stop until Dwight got his way. Annoyed he complied, not seeing the point of arguing a lost cause. Exiting out of the passenger side, Jim passed oblivious to the coy smile creeping along his co-worker’s face.
Reaching the trunk, Jim began to unlatch the rear door.
“It’s not open. You have to unlock it for me first.” Dwight’s idiocy annoyed him to no end. Hearing a soft pop, Jim finally heaved the trunk upwards. He balanced the weight of the frame with a palm while his other hand rummaged through Chinese take-out boxes, sweaty hakama robes, rotting debris and miscellaneous tackle and equine gear.
Blanching at the odor, the salesman bravely searched for the elusive suitcase. Peering out at the scene from his rearview mirror and assessing that enough time had transpired, Dwight casually slipped out of his seat.
“I can’t find it Dwight!” Unaware of a presence sneaking behind him, Jim shouted, “Are you sure it’s even in here?” Abruptly, he fell forward. His wrists were wrenched back, pulled at an awkward angle. The next second, the cool metal of handcuffs belonging to a deputy sheriff clamped down.
“Hey! What are you-mpph!” Wildly, blue eyes searched for the assailant behind him as a meaty hand covered his mouth. Upon recognizing the predator, his irises expanded in shock. Before Jim could get a sentence out, an unfastened tie descended over his eyes, blocking his vision by silk taupe and mustard gold.
“Quiet, you.” Tightening the fabric with a severe yank, Dwight secured his hostage’s blindfold before forcing Jim’s elongated neck even further below the hood. Panic swarmed the athletic man, confinement prompting him to flee. Swiftly Jim arched, propelling himself backwards only to be pinned between a warm body and the hard surface of the car. Amidst the minor scuffle, hands were everywhere-gripping his arms, raising kicking heels and hauling his main torso ever upwards. At one point, the soles of his leather shoes left the ground.
Fighting proved ineffective for the more he struggled, the blinded captive continued to provide better leverage. Disoriented and confused, Jim was still trying to comprehend that he was being captured by his fellow salesman. The situation was precarious as it was absurd. In less than two minutes and fifteen seconds, the victim’s lithe body had been lifted and shoved into the trunk despite muffled screams.
Locking the trunk with a click, Dwight surveyed the abandoned roadway. Praising his good fortune, Dwight patted his car’s metal edge almost affectionately. Humming a simple child’s tune, the engine gurgled into life and slowly, the cryptic vehicle sauntered away under a low hanging moon.
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Bitter Truth