The following is not a novelization or an actual script but a dry transcript of the aired episode that includes accurate word-to-word dialogues, settings descriptions, action scenes and/or camera movements where the transcriber felt they were necessary. This transcript is posted on "TWIZ TV.COM" in world wide web exclusivity by courtesy of NIKKI.
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TRANSCRIPT:
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Guest star: Leslie David Baker (Stanley), Paul Lieberstein (Toby), Kate Flannery (Meredith), Mindy Kaling (Kelly), Creed Bratton (Creed (Uncredited)), Brian Baumgartner (Kevin), Oscar Nunez (Oscar), Phyllis Smith (Phyllis), Angela Kinsey (Angela) , Lance Krall (Sensei)


INT. THE OFFICE, MORNING

(Jim is working at his desk)

(Dwight walks in, stops abruptly)

Dwight: Where is my desk?

(Oscar is at reception talking to Pam)

(The camera pans to where Dwight's desk normally is, there is nothing but space and carpet)

Jim: That is weird.

Dwight: This is not funny, this is totally unprofessional.

Jim: Okay, well, you're the one who lost the desk.

Dwight: I didn't lose my desk

Jim: Okay, calm down. Where was the last place you saw it?

Dwight: Okay, who moved my desk?

Jim: I think you should retrace your steps.

Dwight: Okay, I am going to tell Michael, and this entire office will be punished.

(Dwight starts walking to Michael's office)

Jim: (looking at his paperwork) Colder.

(Dwight stops, takes a tentative step back)

Jim: (without looking up) Warmer.

(Dwight continues to walk backwards)

Jim: (still looking at his paper) Little warmer.

(Dwight turns around and starts walking to the kitchen area)

Jim: (OS) There you go, ooh, warmer.

(Dwight walks faster)

Jim: (OS) Warmer.

(Dwight open the door to the kitchen area)

Jim: (OS, with more enthusiasm) Warmer, warmer!

(Dwight walks past the men's room)

Jim: (OS) Warmer, cold, cold! Cold!

CUT TO JIM'S DESK AREA

Jim: Back up!

(Pam and Oscar laugh)

CUT BACK TO DWIGHT IN THE KITCHEN

(Dwight notices a cord running into the men's room)

Jim: (OS) Ooh, ooh, warmer.

(Dwight open the door to the men's room)

Jim: (OS) Hot, red hot. Hot.

(Dwight enters the restroom to find his desk)

Jim: (OS) Very hot.

(The phone on Dwight's desk is ringing)

(Dwight stares at it, then at the camera)

(Finally, he puts his bag down, sits in his chair and answers it)

Dwight: Dwight Schrute.

Jim: Hi Dwight. Um, what sort of discounts are we giving on the 20 pound white bond?

Dwight: Jim, I've given you this information like 20 times. (grabs a binder off his desk)

Jim: I know.

(A toilet flushes)

Dwight: (looking through binder) It's by the ream?

(Kevin comes out of the stall with a candle)

Jim: Uh, yeah.

Dwight: It is now 9.78. So it's a discount of 7%.

(Kevin blows out the candle and places it on Dwight's desk)

CUT TO JIM'S DESK

Jim: Okay thank you, I got to get back to work.

(Jim hangs up his phone and looks at Pam)

(Pam nods approvingly and smiles at Jim)

CUT BACK TO BATHROOM

Dwight: Wash your hands Kevin.

 

 

CUT TO INTRO WITH CREDITS

 

 

INT. JIM AND DWIGHT'S DESK AREA

(Jim is on the phone with a customer)

Jim: Right. Oh, well, let me just check the pricing list. Hold on one second.

Dwight: (on the phone) Sensei.

(Jim looks over at Dwight)

Dwight: Hello, it's sempai.

Jim: Um...(trying to listen to Dwight)

Dwight: (waits for a beat) Dwight.

Jim: (to customer) You know what, let me give you a call right back. I'm going to find it and then I'll call you back. Thanks. (hangs up phone)

Dwight: Yes, I just had a ques- Yes, sensei. Arigato goazai mashta. Hai. (hangs up the phone)

Jim: Was that you mom?

Dwight: No. That was my sensei.

Jim: Oh, thought it was your mom.

Dwight: I am now sempai, which is assistant sensei.

Jim: Assistant to the sensei, that's pretty cool.

Dwight: Assistant sensei.

Jim: Okay.

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF DWIGHT

Dwight: I am a practitioner of Goju-Ryu ka-ra-te, here in Scranton.

CUT TO DWIGHT'S KARATE CLASS

(The class are practicing their kicks, Dwight is the only adult in the class)

All: (kicks) Hai!

Ira: 2!

All: (kicks) Hai!

Ira: Dwight, stamp and kick back. 3.

All: (kicks) Hi-yah.

Dwight: (VO) My sensei, Ira, recently promoted me to purple belt, and gave me duties of a sempai.

(Dwight is cleaning the floor of the dojo while the parents are in the background talking to their kids)

Dwight: (VO) Not that a lot of people here in America know what a sempai is.

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF DWIGHT

Dwight: But it's equally as respected as a sensei.

CUT TO RECEPTION

(Stanley walks up with a folder full of papers and hands it to Pam)

Stanley: I don't want to stay until 7:00 again this year.

Pam: I don't really have any control over that, Stanley.

(Stanley looks over at Michael's office)

(Michael is straightening a picture on his wall)

Pam: (VO) Michael tends to procrastinate a bit...

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF PAM

Pam: ...whenever he has to do work. Um, time cards. (holds up a red folder) He has to sign these every Friday. Purchase orders (holds up a green folder) have to be approved at the end of every month. And expense reports. (holds up a yellow folder) All he has to do is initial these, at the end of every quarter. But once a year, it all falls on the same Friday. And that's today. I call it the perfect storm.

CUT TO MICHAEL'S OFFICE

(Michael is flicking the side of his coffee cup)

Michael: (singing) I don't want to work, I just want to bang on this mug all day.

Ryan: (interrupting) Did you ask me here for any specific reason?

Michael: Ah, yes, I did. Here's the bizzle. I have a very top secret mission for you. I want you to update all the emergency contact information.

Ryan: Why is that secret?

(Pam knocks on the door, walks in and places the folders in Michael's inbox)

Michael: Hello. Oh, God. (makes a cross with his index fingers) Busy work. Ah, get away, get away. Cretin.

Pam: Um, I put stickers so you know where to sign.

Michael: Yes, thanks, I know where to sign.

Pam: It's just that last year, you-

Michael: Last year, they were out of order, weren't they, Pam.

Pam: Well, the last pickup for overnight deliveries is at 7:00, so you need to have them signed by then. Or much earlier.

Michael: Shalax, Pam. Stop Pam-MSing. (looks at Ryan) That's pretty good. Um, actually, I'm sending Ryan on a top secret mission. Tell her what it is.

Ryan: Updating emergency contacts?

Pam: Well, is that really a priority?

Michael: Is it a priority?  Oh, I don't know. Um, what if there's a tornado, Pam? People's legs are crushed under rubble. Please, would you be so kind as to call my wife? No, I can't. (Pam looks at Michael with confused frustration) Because we don't have any emergency contact information. Because Pam said it wasn't a priority. (Pam can't take it anymore and walks out of the office) Think. Think with your head Pam. Okay, well, she walks out. That's the problem with being a boss, is that when you are tough, they resent you, and when you are cool, they walk all over you.

Ryan: Catch-22.

Michael: Catch-22, (he has no clue what that means) yes. Why don't you give me your contact information to start with, okay? (takes out his cell phone)  What's your cell?

CUT TO JIM'S DESK

(Ryan is standing by Jim's desk with a clipboard)

Jim: Uh, Larissa Halpert.

Ryan: What's her address?

Jim: Uh, 117 Vonburgen Street.

(Ryan's cell phone rings, Ryan takes it out and answers it)

Ryan: Hello.

Michael: (in a high pitched voice) Hey Ryan. (snickers)

(Jim looks over at Michael's office)

Michael: (in high pitched voice) This is Michael Jackson, calling from Wonderland.

Ryan: You mean Neverland?

Michael: (snickers) This is Tito. (starts laughing now)

Ryan: What?

Michael: Calling from-

(Ryan closes his phone)

CUT TO LATER AT RECEPTION

(Pam is pointing some lines out on Jim's palm)

Pam: Your major and minor lines cross at a ridge. (looks up at Jim) That sucks.

Jim: You're making this up as you go along, aren't you?

Pam: I am just following the web site.

Jim: Well...at least I don't have cavities.

Pam: (still looking at his palm) Yes, you have very nice teeth.

Jim: Thanks. (flashes his pearly whites)

CUT TO ACCOUNTING

(Ryan is talking to Kevin)

Ryan: Who's your emergency contact?

Kevin: (monotone) Stacey.

(Ryan's phone rings, he takes it out and just looks at it)

(Michael knocks on the window from his office)

Michael: (through the window) Pick up.

Ryan: (has no choice) Hello?

Michael: (in a Mike Tyson voice) This is Mike Tyson. (cracks up laughing)

CUT TO JIM AND DWIGHT'S DESK AREA

Jim: Hey, Dwight. As sempai, do you ever think there's gonna be a day where humans and robots can peacefully coexist?

Dwight: Impossible. The way they're programmed...

(Jim gives Dwight an unbelieving expression, he really didn't expect Dwight to have an answer for that)

Dwight: You're mocking me.

Jim: No, I'm not.

Dwight: Well, let me offer you a little piece of advice. I am not afraid, to make an example out of you.

Jim: Well, that's not advice. What advice sounds like is this. Um, don't ever bring your purple belt to work because someone might...(takes Dwight's purple belt out of his desk)...steeaal it.

Dwight: Okay, give that back to me.

Jim: Okay, say please.

Dwight: No, that is not a toy.

Jim: Please.

Dwight: Please?

Jim: Good. And it absolutely is a toy. Arigato. (gives the belt to Dwight)

Dwight: Arigato. This is not a toy. This is a message for the entire office so that everyone could see that I am capable of physically dominating them.

(Quick cut to Dwight at his dojo giving a dummy palm strikes to the face, Dwight smiles at the camera while continuing the strikes)

CUT TO MICHAEL'S OFFICE

(Michael is doodling on a piece of paper that is half filled with his signatures)

Michael: (to camera) And this is more of a yin yang thing. The Michael is all cursive, Scott all caps. Left brain, right brain. Or duality of man.

(Pam knocks on the window)

Pam: Could you practice on the forms?

CUT TO THE SUPPLY SHELF NEAR THE KITCHEN

(Dwight is getting some supplies while Jim is talking to him)

Dwight: No women or children, unless provoked.

Jim: Okay, Roy.

Dwight: Warehouse guy. Doesn't count.

Jim: Okay. (Michael passes by them on his way to the kitchen) Michael. Could you beat up Michael?

Michael: (stops) Yeah, I don't think that would happen.

Dwight: Cause we're friends.

Michael: Because I would kick his ass.

Jim: Well, Dwight's a purple belt. So...

Michael: So? I've beat up black belts. Yeah.

Jim: How'd you know they were black belts?

Michael: They told me, after. See, I used to run with a very tough crowd, street fighter types. Real, real bad people. I'm just lucky I got out.

CUT TO TOBY'S DESK AREA

Ryan: Is your wife still your contact?

Toby: Uh, ex-wife, yeah. Uh, her last name is Becker now.

Ryan: Okay.

(Ryan scratches something out, Toby looks)

Toby: You don't need to write ex.

CUT TO JIM'S DESK

(Michael is sitting on Jim's desk)

Michael: And after that, nobody ever messed with the damn rascals ever again.

Jim: Sounds tough. When you're a jet, (snaps his fingers) you're a jet all the way, (snaps fingers) right?

Michael: Jet?

Angela: Have you signed the expense reports yet?

Michael: Yes, in theory I have.

CUT TO MICHAEL'S OFFICE

(Pam takes the folders out of Michael's inbox and puts them on his desk where he can't miss them)

Michael: (VO) I just need to cross some Ts and dot some Is.

CUT BACK TO JIM'S DESK

Michael: Alright. (walks towards Dwight) I am going to be in my office if anybody needs me. Hoo! Ha! (grabs Dwight in a head lock)

Dwight: Michael!

Michael: Oh, wow.  Sleeper hold. Bedtime for vato.

Dwight: Stop it.

Michael: Shhh. Oh ho ho ho. You are, the weakest link!

Dwight: Ow!

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF MICHAEL

Michael: I'm friends with everybody in this office. We're all best friends I love everybody here. But sometimes your best friends start coming in to work late, and start having dentist appointments that aren't dentist appointments. And that is when it's nice to let them know that you could beat them up.

CUT BACK TO JIM AND DWIGHT'S DESK AREA

Michael: Just hit me. You'll see.

Jim: I can't, 'cause I just got a manicure. So...

Michael: Oh, queer! Eye, Queer Eye. That's a good show. Important show. Go ahead, do it.

Jim: Just have Dwight punch you.

Michael: Oh, yeah, Well, that would be kind of worthless because I know a ton of 14-year-old girls who could kick his ass.

Jim: You know a ton of 14-year-old girls? (looks at the camera)

Dwight: What belt are they?

Michael: Look, Dwight is a wuss. When we rented Armageddon...

Dwight: No...

Michael: ... he cried at the end of it. He did.

Dwight: Michael, I told you...

(Jim looks over at Pam who laughs in surprise)

Dwight: ...that was because it was New Year's Eve, and it started to snow at exactly midnight.

Michael: (mimics crying) Oh, Bruce Willis, they're going to leave him on the asteroid. Boo hoo...

(Dwight gets up from his desk and takes a front stance)

Dwight: Okay I'll punch you.

(Michael turns around)

Michael: Okay, here we go. Alright, come on.

(Dwight lands a one-two punch to Michael's stomach)

Dwight: Gyah!

(Dwight returns to his stance, Michael doubles over)

Michael: Fhaaaaaaaaa! Ooooooooooh!

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF DWIGHT

Dwight: Did I want to harm Michael, the one man I've been hired to protect? No, I did not.

CUT BACK TO OFFICE

Jim: Are you okay?

Michael: (hoarsely) Yes.

Jim: Are you sure you're all right?

(Michael gets up and starts walking to his office, he looks like he is going to vomit or cry, maybe both)

Michael: Yeah. Yeah. (Jims opens his door) Thank you.

(Michael closes the main blinds to his office and shuts the door)

(The camera moves to some open to catch Michael falling on his desk, knocking everything over)

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF DWIGHT

Dwight: I come from a long line of fighters. My maternal grandfather, was the toughest guy I ever knew. World War II veteran. Killed 20 men then spent the rest of the war in an allied prison camp. My father battled blood pressure and obesity all his life. Different kind of fight.

CUT TO RECEPTION

(Jim is leaning on the counter looking at something off screen)

Jim: (to Pam) Okay, he has to be stopped.

(Dwight is in the background, wearing his purple belt, showing Kevin a move)

Jim: Please, please, please, please, just ask Michael.

Pam: I don't know.

(Kevin trys out the move on Dwight)

Jim: Okay, I'll buy you a bag of chips.

Dwight: (OS to Kevin) Why are you twisting around?

Pam: French onion?

Jim: (smiling) Obviously.

Dwight: Kevin, why are you spinning around?

Pam: Okay.

Jim: Yes.

Dwight: Take this pen, okay, and stab me with it.

(Pam walks to Michael's door and knocks)

Michael: Go away.

Pam: I just have a quick question.

Michael: I haven't signed them, okay?

Pam: No, it's not that. Um, I was just wondering, since I'm probably going to have to stay late, could you ask Dwight to stay late too, so he can walk me to my car? (Pam looks at Jim and gives him a "I can't believe you made me say that" look)

Jim: (silently) Nice.

Michael: Come in.

(Pam opens the door)

Michael: Uh, Pam, I hate to break this to you, but Dwight can't stop you from being mugged. He's just not tough enough.

Pam: He's a purple belt. That's really high.

Michael: Oh, I could beat up Dwight. That's ridiculous. I can murder him.

Pam: It's just that out there, you...

Michael: Oh, is that what they're saying?

Pam: Yeah, kind of.

Michael: Okay, alright.

(Michael walks swiftly out of his office)

Michael: Where's Dwight?

Jim: Uh, kitchen.

Michael: Okay. (takes off towards the kitchen)

(Jim gets up and starts walking with Pam while doing the snapping fingers walk from West Side Story)

(Michael open the kitchen door to find Dwight showing Kelly some fighting moves)

Dwight: Try it again. Here we go.

Kelly: Hi-yah!

Dwight: Good.

Kelly: Wow, it way actually pretty good, right?

Dwight: Excellent, now watch. Let me take you from behind.

Kelly: What?

Michael: Watch out Kelly, might sucker punch you.

(Jim and Pam are standing in the doorway)

Dwight: I didn't sucker punch you Michael.

Michael: No, really?

Dwight: In case you didn't remember, I was defending my honor.

Michael: Oh, is that it?

Dwight: Like a samurai.

Michael: Well, the offer, Dwight, was for one punch, which I absorbed. I had no idea that there'd be a second punch. So, catch-22.

(Jim and Pam look at each other confused)

Dwight: Okay, fine, tit for tit. (pulls up his shirt and purple belt) Give it your best shot, two punches, go.

Michael: Look, if we were in a bar, right now, there would be two punches. Me punching you and you hitting the floor.

Dwight: No, I'd block your first punch...

Michael: Yeah?

Dwight: ...rendering you ineffective.

Michael: Oh, really?

Dwight: Yeah.

Michael: You know what, you're just lucky that we're at work right now.

Jim: Ooh, what about, ah, Dwight's dojo?

Michael: No, they just have classes.

Dwight: It's free during the day, it's fine.

Michael: Look...

Dwight: I've got the key.

Toby: Hey, Michael

Michael: Hey, Toby.

Toby: Uh, any word on those...

Michael: Hey, you know what? I have an idea, why don't you just leave right now? Why don't you walk away from the room, okay? Fine.

(Toby leaves without a word)

Micheal: We'll go at lunch. Pam, make an announcement. Figure out carpools.

(Jim tries to hide his glee as Michael walks back to his office, Dwight looks a little scared)

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF JIM

Jim: Um, well, we're all getting excited to see this fight. The Albany branch is working right through lunch to prevent downsizing. But Michael, he decided to extend our lunch by an hour...

CUT TO THE ELEVATOR

(Everybody is putting on their coats and getting in the elevator)

Jim: (VO) ...so that we could all go down to the dojo and watch him fight Dwight.

CUT BACK TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF JIM

(Jim smiles and starts pumping his fist)

Jim: Fight, Fight, (growing more excited) fight, fight, fight, fight, fight, I'm coming, fight.

CUT TO ELEVATOR

(Jim runs in, bumping Michael)

Jim: Sorry.

(Michael and Dwight are standing next to each other)

(Kevin is behind them and gives both of them a wicked grin as the elevator doors close)

CUT TO DOJO

(Dwight is in his gi, stretching)

(Michael is looking a a picture with oriental writing)

Michael: (to Ira) I recognize that. That is Japanese for California roll.

Ira: Uh, no it's not.

Michael: I think it is, a guy told me about that.

Ira: Actually, it's a symbol for eternal discipline.

Michael: Oh.

(The camera pans over to where Jim and Pam are hanging out)

(Pam has a punching pad on her hand as Jim is attempting to read her palm)

Jim: Wow, that is really interesting.

Pam: What?

Jim: Your love line- I'm just kidding, I can't see anything.

(They both laugh)

Pam: (insistent) Look closer.

(Jim leans over the pad)

(Pam taps him on the chin)

Jim: Oh-kay.

Pam: (sing song) One point for me.

(Jim taps her on the head)

Jim: Tied up.

Pam: (smiling) Oh, you're dead.

Jim: (laughing) What? (puts up his fists) What are you going to do? (playfully) Bring it Beesly. Bring it.

(Pam playfully body checks him)

Jim: Ooh, yeah. Good move.

(Jim moves behind Pam and puts his arms around her, Pam laughs)

Jim: Ooh, not such an ultimate fighter now, huh?

(Jim picks Pam up, her shirt slides up slightly, revealing her mid drift)

Pam: (laughing) Oh, hey, put me down. (laughing) Put me down!

(Meredith glances over, Pam notices)

Pam: (serious) Oh my God. Hey, put me down.

(Jim puts Pam down)

Pam: (annoyed) Hey.

(Jim steps back, bewildered. Pam pulls her shirt down and joins everybody else)

(Jim is left looking severely confused)

Ira: (OS) Okay, gentlemen, listen up.

CUT TO THE DOJO MAT

(Dwight and Michael have foam gloves, boots and helmets on)

Ira: After a clean strike to the chest, stomach, or kidneys, I will separate you and award a point. First person to three wins, alright?

Dwight: (bows) Yes, sensei!

Michael: Lot of rules. Lot of rules. On the street, we didn't have any rules. Maybe one, No kicks to the groin, home for dinner.

(Ira steps back and starts the fight)

Ira: Hajime!

(Dwight quickly rushes up to an unsuspecting Michael and kicks him on his thigh)

Dwight: Ha-yah!

(Ira stops the fight)

Michael: (angry) Whoa, hey! What the hell was that?

Ira: Dwight.

Dwight: Yes!

Ira: One point.

Michael: No way. Okay.

Dwight: Eat it!

Michael: Alright, that's the way you want to do it?

Dwight: Two more.

Michael: You want to play dirty, huh? Okay, game on, man.

Kevin: (from the side lines) Sweep the leg.

Michael: I'm coming at you, man.

(Michael starts bouncing around like, well, a kangaroo/bunny)

(Jim looks at Michael, Creed watches amused)

Michael: Ha! Okay, purple belt.

(Michael swings his leg toward Dwight, Dwight quickly turns away)

Michael: Okay, I got it.

Dwight: No.

Michael: I got his pants.

Dwight: That was my pants.

Ira: No points for pants.

(Jim smiles at the camera)

Michael: Dwight, you have-- No, look. (starts pointing at his shirt) No, you have something, you have something.

(Dwight pushes his hand away)

Michael: God, you look like such an idiot.

(Dwight starts yelling swinging Michael's direction)

(Michael starts swinging back and yelling too)

(They both have their eyes closed)

(Dwight, rushes away, punching air behind him)

(Jim raises an eyebrow)

(Dwight tries to kick Michael, Michael blocks it)

Michael: Hoo! Ha! Ha!

Ira: Clean technique gentlemen.

Michael: Come on. Do that again. Do that again. I dare you.

(Dwight kicks again, this time Michael catches his foot)

(Michael holds on to Dwight's leg and he goes for the head)

Ira: Okay, break. Break. No holding.

(Michael slides Dwight's helmet sideways over his eyes)

Michael: (taunting) Oh, you can't see? You can't see?

(Dwight starts swinging blindly as Michael comes up behind him and starts punching him in the chest)

Michael: One point. Two points. Three points.

(Phyllis takes a picture)

Ira: I said break.

Michael: How many points now? I win, I win.

(Dwight takes his helmet off and throws it at Michael, then rushes and tries to take him down)

Dwight: No, you didn't.

(Michael starts bopping Dwight with his own helmet)

Michael: Eight points, nine points.

(Slowly they fall to the floor, Michael ends up sitting on Dwight)

(Michael makes noises as if he is spitting up phlegm)

(Dwight covers his face)

Dwight: Stop it. No.

(Michael continues to make the sounds)

Dwight: Come on, Michael!

Michael: Open your mouth.

Dwight: No, Michael!

CUT TO ELEVATOR

(The bell dings as the doors open)

(Michael gets off first, followed by everybody else, Dwight is last)

(The doors start to close on Dwight, startled, he clutches his bag)

CUT TO MICHAEL'S OFFICE

(Michael is throwing punches)

Michael: (to camera) You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Raging Bull, Pacino. Oh, I want that footage. I want it. I need it. (looks out the window) Oh, I have to get back to work. I have lots of work. Oh, oh, oh. Check this out, come here. (the camera goes to the window) There he is, Mr. Temp. (takes out cell phone) Having lunch by the car. Let us play with him. See what we can learn.

(In the distance, Ryan takes out his phone, looks at it, then puts it back in his pocket and continues his lunch)

Michael: Oh, we're playing phone tag.

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF RYAN

(Ryan holds up his phone)

Voice on Phone: Seven new messages. First new message. (Michael) "Hi, Ryan. This is Saddam Hussein."

(Ryan pushes a button)

Voice on Phone: Next message. (Michael) "Hey Ryan, this is your girlfriend. And I'm mad."

CUT TO JIM AND DWIGHT'S DESK AREA

(Dwight is eating some snap peas)

(Jim is looks over at reception and bits his lip, Pam is working)

CUT TO A COMPUTER SCREEN

(It reads)

PAM -

Hey, if that was weird today, I just wanted

(The camera zooms out)

(Jim notices the camera and immediately deletes the message)

(Pam is in the distance reading a magazine, Jim goes back to his work)

CUT TO MICHAEL'S OFFICE

(Ryan is sitting there with his clipboard)

Michael: My emergency contact is Todd Packer. Todd F. Packer. You know what the F stands for?

Ryan: Fudge?

(There is a knock on Michael's door)

Michael: Uh, come in.

(Dwight enters)

Michael: Oh, hey, Karate Kid. The Hillary Swank version. Hi, how are you?

Dwight: (looking down) I need to change my emergency contact information from Michael Scott.

Ryan: Okay, to what?

Dwight: Just put...the hospital. Contact number, just put 911.

(Dwight looks at Michael as he closes the door)

(Ryan scratches something out with his pen)

Michael: He is such a sore loser. You heard obviously, that I mopped the floor with him this afternoon. You know what, um, do yourself a favor. Just leave me as his contact, and I will call the hospital. Cut out the middleman.

(Ryan scratches something out with his pen again)

CUT TO THE OFFICE AREA

(Meredith is putting her things away as Ryan puts his laptop up)

(Everybody is leaving)

Kevin: Later Jim.

Jim: (Jim is putting on his coat) Later Kev.

(Jim walks to reception and places a bag of chips on the counter)

Jim: Have a good weekend.

Pam: (not looking up) Yeah, you too.

(Jim leaves, Pam looks at the counter to see the bag of chips)

(Pam smiles slightly and slowly grabs the chips)

CUT TO MICHAEL'S OFFICE

(There is a knock on his door)

Michael: Yeah.

Ryan: I have the emergency contacts.

Michael: Just lay 'em on the chair. I'll take it from here. So what you up to this weekend?

Ryan: Uh, hanging out with some friends probably.

Michael: Well, if you do anything crazy, give me a shout.

Ryan: Yeah. Alright, I will, um, see you Monday. Cool?

Michael: Alright. Bye.

CUT TO THE OFFICE AREA

(The clock reads 6:20)

(Angela is talking to Pam)

(Michael walks out of his office)

Michael: Dwight?

Angela: Michael, did you finish yet?

Michael: This close. Dwight, may I speak with you for a minute.

Dwight: Uh, I'm busy.

Michael: Well, uh, (points to self) busier. But I'm making the time.

Stanley: Michael, can't your conversation wait till Monday?

Toby: We want to go home.

Michael: Well, you don't even have anybody to go home to, Toby. So...

Pam: The shipping place closes in a half hour.

Michael: I know. But I've been carrying the load on my back all day. And if everyone would just chip in a little bit, might help me out. What do you say? Let's gang bang this thing and go home. Dwight. (motions to the conference room)

CUT TO RECEPTION

(Toby, Angela, Stanley, and Pam are forging Michael's signature on the forms)

Angela: This is illegal.

Stanley: I don't care.

CUT TO CONFERENCE ROOM

(Michael and Dwight are sitting at opposite ends of the table)

Michael: I have been testing you the entire day. Did you know that?

Dwight: (pauses) Of course.

Michael: And I'm happy to say that you passed. So, effective immediately, I am promoting you from assistant to the regional manager to assistant regional manager.

(Dwight is speechless and on the verge of tears)

Dwight: Michael...I don't know-

Michael: I-I know. I know. I know. I know. I wouldn't be offering it if I didn't think you could handle it.

Dwight: I can handle it, I can.

Michael: I know. Okay.

Dwight: (looks around the room) Wow. So I guess this'll just by my office.

Michael: No. No. Title change only.

Dwight: I'll have Pam send out a memo.

Michael: No, no. Three month probationary period. Let's just not tell anybody about this right now.

Dwight: Just a formality?

Michael: Absolutely, but not really.

Dwight: Michael. I have so much, to learn, from you.

Michael: Yes you do.

(Dwight stands up)

Dwight: Thank you. (punches his fist into his hand) (whispering) Sensei. (bows)

Michael: And, ditto. (VO) I told Dwight...

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF MICHAEL

Michael: ...that there is honor in losing. Which as we all know is completely ridiculous.

CUT TO RECPETION

(Pam is gathering all the folders)

Michael: (VO) But, there is, however, honor in making a loser feel better. Which is what I just did for Dwight.

(Cut to Dwight putting White-Out over the "TO THE" on his business cards)

Michael: (VO) Would I rather be feared or loved?

CUT TO INDUVIDUAL SHOT OF MICHAEL

Michael: Um, easy. Both. I want people to be afraid of how much they love me. And I think I proved that today at the dojo.

CUT TO EARILIER AT THE DOJO

(Michael is sitting on top of Dwight repeatedly tapping him on the chest)

Michael: Typewriter torture.

Dwight: Sensei help!

Michael: Typewriter torture.

Dwight: No.

Michael: Typewriter!

THE END

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Transcribed by NIKKI for http://www.twiztv.com
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