The prompt for week 7: "Secret Secrets Hurt Someone"
And my entry:
Jim is talking to Michael in his office. Dwight is eavesdropping from his desk, but with the door closed he only hears a few words.
Jim: Corporate... rewriting reports... pissing contest... Charles... time...
Jim returns to his desk.
Dwight: Jim, can I talk to you, privately. (Dwight motions with his head to the stairwell.)
Stairwell
Dwight: If the future of this company depends on, as you so crudely put it, a pissing contest, then I should handle it.
Jim: What... why?
Dwight: (He looks around to make sure they're alone.) Because I'm an Ultimate Urinating Championship hall of famer.
Jim: Sure you are.
Dwight: (Dwight opens his suit coat and peels back the liner to reveal over a dozen medals. He points to the top left.) Distance. (Bottom left) Duration. (Top right) Accuracy. (Bottom right) Artistry.
Jim: Wow...
Dwight (TH): Of course I'm proud of my success in the UUC. But if my underlings here knew, they'd constantly be bothering me for autographs and to do exhibitions at parties.
Later that day.
Dwight returns to his desk holding a big glass of beet cider and notices Pam has several gold yogurt lids hanging around her neck.
Dwight: What are those? (Dwight looks at Jim, then back to Pam.) What league did you win those in? American or international rules? Were the judges certified?
Pam: Not now, Dwight, I'm training. (Pam sips some water.)
Dwight grunts, then chugs his glass, spilling beet cider all over himself.
Jim smirks at the camera.
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