Sitcom Nightmare

New Thing #11: I Dream of Dwight-y

Have you ever watched The Office? I have. In fact, over the past weeks I watched all of it. All. Of. It. I had gotten Netflix during my Winter break because it was a free trial and I knew I would be bored at home, so I could watch some movies. Well, the month-long trial passed by, but I enjoyed putting myself to sleep with the humdrum of documentaries so much, I decided to keep my account.
The Office: Season 1 showed up as a recommended show, and so my journey began. I watched the whole season in one weekend, and after that, basically ignored my life and lived vicariously through Michael Scott. I watched 6 seasons, around 25 episodes each, in the span of around 14 days, (please don’t do the math).
However, my conscience was not satisfied with this amount. The other night, my brain decides to make me a husband: Mr. Dwight Schrute. Oh, the horror, you can’t imagine it.
I woke up in bed and rolled over only to see beady little eyes, yellow stained teeth, and a wife-beater covered pot belly laying next to me. He had his head propped up on his nasty little elbows, quizzing me on the best manure for beet farming. I tried to run but he had bears chase me as he laughed and rode some rudimentary chariot pulled by his dumb cousin.
Then I thought I had woken up from the nightmare, only to find him making breakfast for me in the kitchen with Pam and Jim. Why couldn’t I be Pam instead? Damned Dwight. I’m going to start watching more Orlando Magic games, maybe next time I’ll wake up next to Dwight Howard.

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