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Alas, Sanitarium
Death and the Saboteur
The Chain Letter
The Artlovers
This Is Your Life, Jesus
Playground
The Garbageman
Sneaky Reviews
Void
HARRY CHAFING, a private investigator, is thinking to himself while sitting down in a corner of a room on a clean, quiet mental hospital. He is relating the past events of his most recent case, which finally drove him to the "nuthouse."
HARRY CHAFING: Being a private investigator isn't always fun. It's a fact. The murderers, pushers, muggers, and prostitutes just don't make your day. Well, at least most of those kinds of people don't make your day. You should know, Harry. You were a private investigator and you got all the weird cases. Maybe it was because of your ad in the yellow pages--the one in blood red ink with the dead body under the address. Anyway, you always had a good memory-- especially for those really weird cases. It's a fact. Take, for instance, your last case with that gang of loonies. Now you remember that case as if it happened yesterday. Come to think of it, it did happen yesterday..... You had received a call from a funny-talking lady who said to come over to her house right away, because something terrible had happened. Now you're not surprised as to why she didn't tell you exactly what had happened, because if she had, you probably wouldn't have shown up.
HARRY'S mind is totally flashed-back. He remembers getting out of his car and walking up to the porch of a seemingly normal-looking house.
HARRY: You had found the house on Dank Street, which was near the city crematorium. You had hoped that this coming case wouldn't have been anything like the last case you had. That house had looked familiar, though.....
HARRY hears noises from inside the house before ringing the doorbell. HARRIET and BERT are in their TV room.
HARRIET: Bert, as my husband, I have to speak to you a moment. I'd just like to talk to you about.....diarrhea.
BERT: Harriet, will you please answer the door?! I'm watching a game show here, and bring me another beer.
HARRIET: You should drink Schlitz beer, Bert, so you can grad all the gusto you can!
BERT: Just answer the door, will you already!
HARRIET: Have it your way, Bert.
HARRIET answers the door. HARRY is surprised.
HARRY: Are you--say, don't I know you from someplace?
HARRIET: Yes, you came here on your last case, remember? Won't you come in? Here, sit down on my new Ethan Allen couch with my son, Bruce. I'll go get Bert.
HARRY sits down. BRUCE is already studying him.
HARRY: Hello. How are you? I guess it's been not long ago since I saw you last.
Suddenly, BRUCE jumps up.
BRUCE: Oh my God! It's Anthony Perkins! He's come to drag me into the shower and slice me up with an electric knife!
HARRIET (from TV room): It's a Black and Decker electric knife!
BRUCE: I don't care what it is! No. You won't get me this time!
BRUCE sits down on the couch again, and acts like a normal human being. HARRY is not surprised.
HARRY: Don't worry. I'm not Anthony Perkins. I'm Harry Chafing. I'm a private investigator.
BRUCE: Oh, yes. I remember you from the last case. (pauses) Poor Arnold. Poor, poor Arnold. I always told Mama not to keep the clothesline that low. I always said, "Mama, don't keep the clothesline that low!" But she didn't listen to me. Then poor Arnold comes skateboardin' down the cellar steps full speed and gets his head sliced off.
HARRY: Neither did you know that it was your maid who left the clothesline that low and killed Arnold--not your mother.
BRUCE: And poor Arnold's head. I'll never forget the argument the family had over who was gonna pick it up. Poor thing, it was down there for weeks.
HARRY: Boy, that clothesline sure took his head off, though--just like a switchblade.
BRUCE starts acting crazy again.
BRUCE: Switchblade? Let me think, did Anthony Perkins use in switchblade in Psycho? Not really, but that's close enough! Perkins, you'll never get me! I'm going to spread vasoline on the shower curtains so that you won't be able to get in! (runs upstairs)
BERT hears yelling from the TV room.
HARRIET: But Bert, he's a private investigator! You remember how good he solved the last case. (pause) Bert, if you're not going to go in there and talk to him, I'm telling him to come in here! (to HARRY) Come in here! (HARRY obeys) Sit down!
HARRY: How have you been, Bert? There's no need to worry. I assure you, I'll solve this case as good as I solved the last case. My God, there's a body hanging out of your television set!
BERT: What? No, that's just the horizontal hold!
HARRY: You're wrong, I'm telling you! Look at the body! It looks like it's doing a swan dive right through the set!
BERT: It might be the vertical hold.
HARRIET: No, Bert. (starts crying) It's Willemina..... I've been trying to tell you this all along. And the guarantee ran out on that Magnavox set just two weeks ago!
BERT: Well, I'll be danged. All I know is, I was sitting here watching the Olympic diving team.....
HARRY: Look--there's a piece of paper by the set! It's a note!
GRANDPA walks in without ringing the doorbell.
GRANDPA: Hiya everyone!
HARRIET: Where have you been all this time?
GRANDPA: At the home, chasing broads.
HARRY begins to read the note.
HARRY: "Dear Mother and Daddy...."
GRANDPA: What's the matter with the TV set--horizontal hold off again?
HARRIET (stops crying): No, Bert thinks it's the vertical hold this time.
HARRY: "I can stand my brother no longer....."
GRANDPA: Hey, there's something dripping from the set. Is it running out of oil again?
HARRIET: We use only Shell's super premium low lead gas.
HARRY: "Just last week he thought my pet lizard was Anthony Perkins and he drowned it, stabbed it, and swallowed it....."
BERT: Yeah, but this stuff's red. I bet Grandpa bought that cheap stuff again.
GRANDPA: I did not!
HARRY: ".....since Bruce killed my lizard and ate it, I have no reason to live. I hope you all die of old age. Your loving daughter, Willemina. P.S. Take care of Schnookie, my alligator down the cellar."
BRUCE (running downstairs): Mama, Schnookie's in the bathtub!
GRANDPA: Well, jeez Bruce, you know he takes a shower every Tuesday.
HARRY is already in the process of going crazy. UNCLE ERNIE walks in without ringing the doorbell. HARRY looks at ERNIE, hoping that he is not crazy like the rest. HARRY realizes that he will be like the others if the conversation goes much further.
UNCLE ERNIE: Hi! How's everybody doing?
HARRIET: Oh, it's Uncle Ernie--our family television repairman! Are you here to fix our set, Ernie?
UNCLE ERNIE: Yeah, before Willemina killed herself, she called me up and told me something was wrong with it. Let me take a look at it.
HARRY'S eyes are getting larger.
BERT: How does it look?
UNCLE ERNIE: Ahh, it's just the horizontal hold. I'll have it fixed in a week.
HARRY pants and bangs his head against the wall..... His thoughts are now back to the present. A hospital aide helps HARRY out of his corner.
AIDE: C'mon, Harry--it's time to go. Recess is over.
HARRY: But can't I please have some Oscar Meyer 100% pure beef bologna?
AIDE: No, not now, Harry.
HARRY: Can I watch TV, then?
AIDE: No way, Harry. It's time to take a shower.
HARRY: A shower? But Anthony Perkins will get me! He'll stab me to death! Please let me watch TV instead!
AIDE: No, Harry, it's a shower for you.
DOCTOR (passing by with SERGEANT): Who was that kook?
SERGEANT: That was one of our private investigators, Harry Chafing.
DOCTOR: What happened to him?
SERGEANT: No one knows for sure, but he just keeps babbling about his horizontal hold being off.....
The Gonner, a vacation cruiser, has been sabotaged. The explosions
that led to its destruction killed almost everyone aboard. However, a few
passengers managed to escape the catastrophe by boarding a lifeboat before
everything blew to shreds.
This story takes place a few days later, when the survivors began to look at life as a way to escape death, not to prolong it.
MAN: The Gonner--what a name for a ship.
YOUNG LADY: Well, every ship has to have a name. All people have to have names too.
MAN: Yeah, but not like that. That name makes that ship look bad.
YOUNG MAN: So what? We all still took it, didn't we?
CHILD: Are we all going to die?
WOMAN: I don't think so.
MAN: Think! Everybody thinks! Why don't people know about these things?
WOMAN: Nobody knows about these things because we're all just human beings. Human beings don't have the power to see the future. We have to try to take life as it happens.
MAN: Well, I wish this wouldn't have happened.
WOMAN: Don't we all.
MAN: Who are you, anyway?
WOMAN: Madeline Cropper. I was taking a vacation. My husband died on the ship.
MAN: I'm sorry.
YOUNG LADY: My parents died on the ship.
CHILD: My brother died on the ship.
YOUNG MAN: Face it, everybody died on the ship. We're the only survivors.
WOMAN: Who would do such a thing? Don't some people have feelings for other people? Over four hundred dead. What did the person who did this prove?
MAN: Don't ask me.
CHILD: Are we all going to die?
WOMAN: I don't think so.
MAN: I'm afraid to die.
WOMAN: Why? Are you afraid you're gonna go to the wrong place? The bad place? What are you afraid of?
MAN: I really don't know.
YOUNG MAN (To WOMAN): What do you mean, bad place?
WOMAN: Bad place. You know, hell. Is there another bad place?
YOUNG MAN: Sure. There's plenty of bad places. (To MAN) Death is your fate. Nothing can stop it. It happens all the time, and fast, too. A person can be forty-five, and boom--a heart attack--he's dead. It's fate that controls our lives, sometimes. Why worry about dying all the time when most of the time in five seconds flat--it happens?
MAN: Maybe death is a feeling that I get.
YOUNG MAN: Well. you'll just die if you keep worrying about dying all the time.
YOUNG WOMAN: Yeah. Besides, just because you know you're older than us doesn't necessarily mean you'll die any sooner.
MAN: I suppose that might be true.
YOUNG MAN: Sure, it's true. When you're older, you have experience. Experience in life. That's something most of us younger people don't have.
YOUNG WOMAN: Right. So why should you be afraid?
MAN: Like I said, I really don't know. But you're right about what you said. I can see your point. I shouldn't be a worry-wart. I always used to hate people because they could never understand me. But you people do understand me, and you even feel bad for me. It's funny how when people say a few nice things to you, you feel totally different about life. Yeah, you people are great, and because of you, I feel great. After today, I don't think that I can ever hate people anymore and I know that I will never again sabotage another ship.
GEORGE and MILDY STENIC are in bed. MILDY, however, is twisting and
turning much, as if having a nightmare. Just as their grandfather clock
strikes midnight, MILDY screams in a near frenzy.
MILDY: Ahhhhhhh!!!
Just about to jump up, GEORGE turns around fast and strong enough to cause the bed they are sleeping on to collapse. GEORGE immediately comes out of his sleep.
GEORGE: Am I all right? Wha--what's going on?!
MILDY: Do you realize, George, that as of right now it's Friday, June the Thirteenth?
GEORGE: Oh my God.
MILDY: What are we going to do?
GEORGE: What would you like me to do, Mildy--call the cops?
MILDY: Can't we go across the street to Hilda Johnson's house, and stay with her and her husband?
GEORGE: Are you kidding me, Mildy?
MILDY: No, why? They're probably up.
GEORGE: Oh, they're probably up. What do you think, people have nothing better to do but stay up during the night just because it's friday the thirteenth?
MILDY: Of course. Everybody's probably scared.
GEORGE: Scared.
MILDY: Doesn't friday the thirteenth mean anything to you, George?
GEORGE: Oh, sure. It was thirty years ago today that my mother found out she was going through menopause. What do you think? Maybe I should call her up.
MILDY: Oh, George.
GEORGE: Why not? Don't you think she's probably up?
MILDY: She probably is, for that matter but I don't like to call people up for anniversaries of what you said.
GEORGE: You believe me.
MILDY: Oh, I just knew it. Hilda Johnson parked her car in front of her house. They have this old drainpipe, you see, and.....
GEORGE: .....And they think that tonight, of all night, the drainpipe is going to fall on the car.
MILDY: Right, so they parked it out front.
GEORGE: They're crazy. They're just crazy. Mildy, don't you know what tonight really is? It's one of the few nights of the year when people expect coincidences to happen. Everybody is waiting for a coincidence. They wait so hard, that they begin to notice everyday happenings that they never saw happen before, and it doesn't mean a damn thing.
MILDY: George, there's a black cat walking on Hilda Johnson's front lawn.
GEORGE: What?
MILDY: There's a black cat walking on Hilda Johnson's front lawn! Kill it, George! Drown it with the hose!
GEORGE: Mildy! MILDY! Stop this! Mildy, I'm not going to take this tonight. Not tonight. You're going to have to learn to live with life. Now let's leave the Johnson's cat
alone. MILDY: It's not the Johnson's.
GEORGE: Mildy, let's just leave the cat alone out there.
MILDY: But look what it's doing!
GEORGE: Mildy, let's go. Bed.
MILDY: Oh, but George.....
GEORGE: Mildy, I WANT YOU IN BED IN FIVE MINUTES!
MILDY: George!
GEORGE: Mildy, I'm going to bed. Just be there right away.
MILDY peers out the front window.
MILDY: George, did you check the mail today?
GEORGE: Oh, nuts. No, I forgot. You want to get it, Mildy, and leave it on my desk for tomorrow?
MILDY: I don't know why you forget to bring in the mail, George. (walks out and walks back in) Sometimes I really wonder what's on your.....AHHHHH!!!
GEORGE (bed collapses): What the hell!
MILDY: It's a chain letter! George, it's a chain letter!
GEORGE: Oh my God.
MILDY: Look what it says, George! Look what it says!
GEORGE: What does it say, Mildy?
MILDY: I don't know, I haven't read it yet! Wait a minute! Oh no. Oh my goodness.
GEORGE: Hmmm.
MILDY: So many things happened. So many people get killed.
GEORGE: Yeah. Well, naturally. It's a chain letter. They have to scare you so that you don't break the chain.
MILDY: Milton Scrinky got his head sliced off by a clothesline. Doris Manville got rabies from a rampaging Chinaman.
GEORGE: These people died?
MILDY: That's what it says. All because they broke the chain.
GEORGE: See, all because they broke the chain.
MILDY: Melvin Cannly got an electric shock from a pencil.
GEORGE: That's ridiculous. Wood is a non-conductor.
MILDY: I wonder if that's the Cannly family we know? The people who live on Cannes Street?
GEORGE: I don't know, Mildy. Maybe you should call them up.
MILDY: Maybe I should.
GEORGE: Everybody died? No one injured?
MILDY: Oh, sure. It says here Irv Thatcher had a heart attack at the thought of having a heart attack, and he's in a coma at Townville Hospital.
GEORGE: What?
MILDY: Oh, no. It also says that if I break the chain, my husband will be hit on the head with a rake.
GEORGE: Oh, gee. I wonder what you would think of that letter if you weren't married.
MILDY: That's beside the point. They want twenty copies made out and sent.
GEORGE: C'mon now. Don't tell me you're gonna start writing copies out in the middle of the night?
MILDY: Why not?
GEORGE: I can't believe you. Who would send things like that out, anyway? Chain letters torment people.
MILDY: No, they don't. For all we know, it might be an insight into a person's character.
GEORGE: That says a lot for your character, when you're gonna write out thirty copies of a dumb letter.
MILDY: Twenty copies. The mailman will come at about 12:30.....
GEORGE: Why write them out? Nothing is going to happen to you.
MILDY: If I write one every hour and fifteen minutes.....
GEORGE: It's ridiculous.
MILDY: But I only have until tomorrow morning when the mailman comes.
GEORGE: How you can be taken in by something like that.....
MILDY: George.....
GEORGE: .....makes me really believe that you're nothing but a little kid.
MILDY: .....I want to go to church.
GEORGE: What?
MILDY: You heard me.
GEORGE: I can't--I really can't believe that. What church is open at 12:20 in the morning, and who would go to one?
MILDY: You and me would, George.
GEORGE: Listen. Listen, how about..... Right..... How about if I went to the public library and mimeographed twenty copies of the letter?
MILDY: That's a great idea.
GEORGE: Yeah. But the library isn't open now.
MILDY: Yes it is.
GEORGE: The library's open now?
MILDY: Yeah, twenty-four hours a day. It's a modern library.
GEORGE: Right--the library is open but the church isn't. My wife is more concerned about a screwy letter than she is about her own husband.
MILDY: I'm concerned about your head, George.
GEORGE: You're concerned about my head. Why? No man with a good head would go out now--right? Hey Mildy--look!
MILDY: What is it?
GEORGE: There's a name on the inside flap of this envelope! I can't believe it!
MILDY: Who sent it, George?
GEORGE: Hilda Johnson--that superstitious witch across the street! Oh, wait! I'll fix her! (runs out
) MILDY: George! Leave her drainpipe alone! George! Watch out for the rake! George, are you all right?
GEORGE: Yeah, I missed the rake, but the broken drainpipe fell on me.
MILDY: If you must know, for your own good, George, I'm going to write out those letters.
GEORGE: That's what you think! I know my rakes! It missed me! That proves that chain letter is a fake!
MILDY: There's still tomorrow, George.
GILDA: Bert, you know that when I speak to you, I want to be both honest
and straightforward. So, do you mind if I talk to you for a moment.....about
diarrhea?
BERT: Gilda, will you just shut up and answer the door and bring me another beer here--OK?
GILDA: You should drink Schlitz beer, Bert, so you can grab all the gusto you can!
BERT: Just answer the door, for God's sake!
GILDA: Have it your way, Bert.
BERT: Jesus.
DANKEY: I'm Private Detective Dankey, thirty-second precinct. I believe you called me.
GILDA: No, I didn't call you. The Bell system's rates are too high for calling detectives-- especially long distance.
DANKEY: Now that's not true.
GILDA: Yeah, I know.
DANKEY: Isn't this 18 Grimsly Street?
GILDA: Yeah.
BERT: Who is it, Gilda?
GILDA: Some detective.
BERT: Send him in here.
GILDA: Come on in. My husband is inside on our luxurious Ethan Allen couch, complete with five practical snack tables and a brilliant twenty inch television set. Retail value, two thousand, three hundred and eighteen dollars, forty-two cents.
DANKEY: Great!
BERT: Now just get out of here, Gilda!
GILDA: Now you just stay here with Bert while I go get my mother. She'll just love to meet you. You're so suave and baby soft!
BERT: Hey, I'm over here.
DANKEY: Oh--your wife's very charming and dignified, Bert.
BERT: Just forget about her.
DANKEY: Yes, sir.
BERT: She's been acting up lately. That's why I called you. I mean, everything she says has something to do with TV commercials. You should see that by now. I needed to find someone to stop her from.....behaving this way. That's why--I need you, I actually think I'm going crazy along with her and her mother.
DANKEY: Her mother?
BERT: Her mother acts something like she does.
DANKEY: Oh, I see. Well, Bert, your situation has nothing to do with me. You see, I'm a detective, not a psychiatrist, and--
BERT: Look, I haven't let Gilda watch television for the past two weeks. I mean, it gets to a point where she just can't handle it. She's still been roaming around the house, though--saying all those TV things. I figure she must be watching TV somewhere to keep on talking like that. I wanted you to follow her around so I can find out where she's been watching it. Her mother, I don't care about so much--she's not as badly affected.
DANKEY: No, no. The case is too small. My type is meant to chase dope smugglers and criminals who carry blood covered knives and razor blades. I'm supposed to hang around women who wear string bikinis and talk into CBs. Not only that, but I think I'm the only healthy detective down at the precinct. I mean, Sergeant Magnum is in a wheelchair now, and Lieutenant Stoned is blind, and Barnaby Barreta's nothing but a decaying Italian. Just about every detective you see has something wrong with him. Officer Kelley is bald--that's bad enough. I'm the only one to handle the tough cases around here, and this one's just too easy.
BERT: Look, will five thousand dollars interest you?
DANKEY: No.
GILDA: Hey Bert, does your friend want something to drink?
BERT: Leave us alone now--we're busy.
GILDA: I have the one calorie soda and the uncola, or maybe you'd like that real cheap drink.....
BERT: No, not now.
DANKEY: Is that the drink that saves you enough money to buy a car in two thousand years?
GILDA: Yeah, that's the one.
DANKEY: I'll take that. Thanks. Oh, is this your mother?
GILDA: Yeah, that's her.
DANKEY: Hello.
GILDA: Her name's Samantha.
DANKEY: Hello, Samantha.
SAMANTHA: How do you do? You're right, Gilda. He is cute and loving.
BERT: Look, I was in the middle of making some kind of proposition.
SAMANTHA: Where do your people come from, detective?
DANKEY: Well, I was born in Los Angeles, and raised in Palm Springs. Right now, I live in San Francisco.
SAMANTHA: Oh, I see.
BERT: Gilda! Samantha! Will you please leave us to talk alone?
SAMANTHA: Were you ever on that show--The Streets Of San Francisco?
DANKEY: No, but I really love that show. Especially the great cases those guys get.
GILDA: I always liked Columbo myself.
DANKEY: Yeah, that wasn't half-bad either.
SAMANTHA: How about Batman?
BERT: Oh God, I just can't take it anymore! Everything's turned so commercial! Too many people just live for TV. They can hardly wait to come home from work to watch it, and pretty soon they start talking like the TV--worrying about what cereal or deodorant to buy next, or what's going to happen with Archie Bunker or Oscar Madison next. It's not worth up, I tell you! We've got our own lives to live. We can't be worried about fictitious characters everywhere we go! Not all television is reality. It's all so obvious! (pause) But no--after I finish speaking, you'll all just go on living the exact way you did before. You'll all go back to dropping things and worrying about what type of paper towels to use to pick up the mess with. And you'll all go on loving your TV stars more than your best friends--the people you see everyday. Gilda, you'll go back to preaching your commercials for peace in the world, and Samantha here will always yearn for the romance and sex that she'll never get. Detective Dankey, you'll go back to your police station and continue your search for extravagant cases. It's no use anymore! What I've been saying means nothing. Even destroying the television set does no good. You'll all find another. (takes antenna off set)
DANKEY: Hey, what are you doing with that antenna?
BERT: It's a shame. Fictitious characters will live on--but I will not. (stabs himself)
DANKEY: He's--he's killed himself.
SAMANTHA: Poor, poor Bert. He was so intelligent--so noble.
GILDA: He was into theater, you know.
DANKEY: I hadn't realized.
The set looks like a pew and part of an altar in a small church. A crucifix
hangs on the wall. A man is seated and the camera shows the back of his
head. The camera now changes angles, and we see the man is Jesus Christ.
He is removing a nail from his hand and is drinking some wine.
The announcer enters. He is very happy looking, and is always excited. JESUS, on the other hand, is somewhat low-key, but as the scene continues, he becomes happier.
ANNOUNCER: Hi!!!
JESUS: What?
ANNOUNCER: I've been following you all around this church, and I notice that you have a lot on your mind. Do you have a lot of friends?
JESUS: I guess.
ANNOUNCER: How about past friends--friends you haven't seen in a long time?
JESUS: Yeah, I can hardly remember them all.
ANNOUNCER: Well, you're going to remember them all tonight--because here in St. Wilbur's Church in Fair Lawn, New Jersey,--Jesus, THIS IS YOUR LIFE!!!
Applause. JESUS is so surprised that he drops the hammer and spills the wine.
JESUS: Holy Christ, I can't believe it!
ANNOUNCER: You're sure as hell gonna believe it, because we've gone through a lot of trouble to assemble a number of your friends and acquaintances from the past--and we've flown them here from all over the world on Pan-Atheist Van Lines!
Applause.
JESUS: Wow! I haven't been this happy since I peed on that fig tree I cursed.
ANNOUNCER: Well, you can sit back and relax now, Jesus, because we have quite an evening ahead of us! To start things off, we're giving you, absolutely free, six thousand cases of Pope Tomato Sauce!
The announcer takes a can out. Applause.
ANNOUNCER: And now, Jesus, let's really get down to business! We'd like to see if you can identify this voice!
VOICE: I never liked that Pharaoh fellow. He looked like a plague. I mean, I'd never put him on my staff.
ANNOUNCER: Do you know who it is?
JESUS: Not really--
ANNOUNCER: You guessed it, Jesus. Fresh and glowing from Mount Sinai, it's Moses!
Applause. MOSES enters. He has no resemblance to Charlton Heston. He and JESUS hug each other.
MOSES: Hey, how's everybody doin'?
JESUS: Moses, of all the nights to see me! I must look like a mess.
MOSES: You want me to part your hair?
JESUS: No thanks. So what have you been doing with yourself?
MOSES: I've been working on a sequel to The Ten Commandments. It's called The Eleven Commandments. It's being directed by Francis Ford Coppola. You'd like it--Marlon Brando plays the title role.
ANNOUNCER: Moses, for troubling yourself to come down here tonight, we're going to give you a life size poster of God! (applause) Unfortunately, it was too big to keep in here--you can pick it up at the Vatican.
MOSES: Thanks! (exits) (applause)
ANNOUNCER: Jesus, your life has had its many ups and downs, but throughout, you've managed to hang on. We're turning back the hands of the clock again, Jesus. Do you remember that little church by the brook Kildron that was always packed on Tuesday and Thursday nights?
JESUS: Yeah, I never did find out what was going on in there.
ANNOUNCER: Well, Jesus, here's your chance. Can you identify this voice?
VOICE: B-13. I-35. O-72.
JESUS: Huh? What the--
ANNOUNCER: That's right Jesus--it's Father Huhwhathe from St. Irving's Church Of Christ Gynecologist, right around the corner from where you lived!
Applause. FATHER HUHWHATHE enters. He is blind, and is constantly tripping all over himself. He manages to hug JESUS, but after he hugs the announcer.
FATHER HUHWHATHE: Hi Jeez!
ANNOUNCER: As you can see, Father Huhwhathe is still blind--he's one of the few people you never quite got around to healing.
JESUS looks at FATHER HUHWHATHE.
JESUS: Sorry about that.
FATHER HUHWHATHE: No problem. I used to have a seeing-eye sheep, but he died.
ANNOUNCER: For being with us here tonight, Father, we're giving you a season pass ringside pew at the Billy Graham revival in St. Louis!
Applause.
FATHER HUHWHATHE: I always wanted to see St. Louis. I heard so much about him.
FATHER HUHWHATHE trips off stage.
ANNOUNCER: Jesus, although you never really saw our next guest during your life, we all felt he deserved a place on This Is Your Life. Can you guess who belongs to this voice?
NO VOICE.
JESUS: I can't hear anything!
ANNOUNCER: Try again.
NO VOICE.
JESUS: I still can't hear anything.
ANNOUNCER: Well, you can't get them all--it's the Holy Spirit!
Applause. The announcer questions thin air.
ANNOUNCER: Tell me, Mr. Spirit, how long has it been that you've been holy?
NO VOICE.
ANNOUNCER: Well, um, are you happy being on the show and seeing Jesus?
NO VOICE.
ANNOUNCER: Come now, you have to answer one question. What is it that you've been doing with yourself?
VOICE: (music) Stayin' Alive! Stayin' Alive!
The announcer starts dancing and gets carried away.
ANNOUNCER 2: Well, it's obviously time for a commercial break here on This Is Your Life.
Cut to commercial.
ANNOUNCER: This Is Your Life is brought to you by Life Cereal, and by Peter and Paul Candy Bars!
Two priests enter (PETER and PAUL). One takes a bite out of a candy bar and smiles.
PETER: When I take a bite out of a Peter and Paul Candy Bar, I feel so cool and refreshed! I feel like, I feel like--oh, I feel like I've just been peed on by a Tyrannosaurus Rex!
PAUL (laughing): Huh-Huh-Huh-Huh.
Cut back to the show. The Little Drummer Boy music is heard. The Little Drummer Boy is just walking off stage.
ANNOUNCER: We're back on This Is Your Life!
Applause.
ANNOUNCER: Our main man is Jesus! Isn't this terrific?
JESUS: I haven't been this happy since Cecil B. DeMille died.
ANNOUNCER: Our next guest will be sure to bring back some bad memories, but we want you to know that since you last saw him, he's converted! Who is this voice?
VOICE: I didn't mean to trade him in. It was just that those guys promised me I'd have my own TV show. It turned out they didn't ever make a movie about me. I never had anything against Jesus. I mean, I kissed him, didn't I?
JESUS: Not Judas! ANNOUNCER: Yes, Jesus, back from all those years down at the bottom of the barrel--it's Judas!
Applause. JUDAS enters. He wears a robe and a noose, and is very affectionate. He and JESUS embrace.
JESUS: I never thought you'd convert.
JUDAS: You like my shroud?
JESUS: How have you been?
JUDAS: Good. I've been working on a new Omen Picture. Francis Ford Coppola is directing it. Marlon Brando plays the title role.
JESUS: I never heard of it.
JUDAS: That's because you don't come in until the end.
JESUS: Oh.
ANNOUNCER: Judas, for being here tonight, you'll receive your very own Jesus T-Shirt! On the front, there's a picture of Jesus that glows in the dark. On the back, there's a picture of the sacred heart that hemorrhages!!!
Applause. JUDAS exits.
ANNOUNCER: Well, Jesus, what do you think?
JESUS: I must confess--I don't know how much more of this I can take.
ANNOUNCER: Not much more--because we've saved our best guest for last! Can you guess who it is?
Lights flash on and off brightly.
VOICE: I'M WATCHING YOU, SON!
ANNOUNCER: Here's God!!!
Johnny Carson music comes on.
Fade in on an establishing shot of a playground. It is a cloudy day,
and no one can be seen. Three or four swings are rocking back and forth.
Some monkey bars and a sliding pond are visible, as well as see-saws. To
the left, part of a school can be seen. The camera stays on this view for
a short while. Them from deep within the frame, a figure can be seen running
toward the playground. It is a boy, about eighteen years old. When he gets
to within about fifteen feet of the sand where the playground begins, he
slows down to a walk. The boy proceeds to walk to about mid-frame, where
the swings are. He looks toward the school, and then sits down on one of
the swings, still. Wind blows the boy's hair a little. He looks quite sensitive,
eventually a little lonely as he gazes at the school for a few moments.
Suddenly, there is a girl's voice.
GIRL: What are you thinking about?
The boy does not jump, but he is surprised. A girl is sitting up against a tree about fifteen feet away, and seems comfortable.
BOY: Where did you come from?
GIRL: I've just been sitting here.
The boy and the girl look at each other a few moments, and then the boy starts swinging. The girl watches the boy a little and starts glancing around. The two glance at each other briefly, and then start glancing all around. As a long silence starts to develop, the girl stands up. For a moment, it appears that the girl will say good-bye and walk away. The boy, because he's not sure of what the girl is going to do, slows down on the swings and starts speaking.
BOY: I used to go to this school.
GIRL: Really? Me too.
BOY: I guess you got out of here at the end of sixth grade, too.
GIRL: Yeah. You out of high school?
BOY: Yeah.
GIRL: Me too. I don't remember you in high school.
BOY: You work?
GIRL: Yeah.
BOY: We probably never had any classes together.
The two glance at each other and another long silence comes about while the girl takes a few small steps around, unsure of what to do, and the boy slows down still further on the swings. There is a sense of desperation at this moment in particular, as the silence gets longer and the mood itself is even emptier than before. Quietly, the boy speaks.
BOY: What's happened to us?
The girl contemplates what the boy has said, and after a few moments, answers him.
GIRL: I'm not sure.
The girl slowly walks toward the boy, and holds onto the chain of the swing next to him.
GIRL: I always seem to want to say things but I never know what to say.
The girl sits down on the swing, facing the boy. The two swing slowly, looking more closely at each other.
BOY: Do you feel you've.....grown up?
GIRL: Do you?
BOY: Yeah.
GIRL: I don't think anybody really grows up until after they get out of high school. What do you do with yourself?
BOY: Probably the same things you do.
GIRL: Like what?
BOY: I work, see a lot of movies. Hear records.
GIRL: I've lost so much faith.
BOY: In what?
GIRL: Name it.
BOY: Are you happy?
The girl gets up and walks behind the boy, toward some monkey bars.
GIRL: You never answered my question.
BOY: What question?
GIRL: I asked you what you were thinking about.
BOY: Oh. I don't know. You really want to know?
GIRL: Yeah.
BOY: I was wondering why I come here. Why didn't you walk away?
GIRL: What?
BOY: Why didn't you walk away when you saw me coming here? That I wasn't going to leave right away?
GIRL: Why should I?
BOY: I don't know. Just about anybody else did.
GIRL: I get tired of always walking away.
The two look at each other for a few moments. The girl walks by in front of the boy.
GIRL: Bye.
BOY: Bye.
The boy watches the girl walk away. After a short while, he gets up and walks away. The camera stays on the playground while the boy walks out of frame in the direction he came from. Fade out.
Fade in on a view of a small town. There are many houses and long winding
roads to be seen, though not many people or cars in motion. What is most
striking in the frame more than any other object are numerous garbage cans,
many of which are placed somewhat neatly in front of the houses closest
to the camera. This view of the town is very pretty and pleasant, as many
birds can be seen flying around, some singing joyously.
Suddenly, from the left, a garbage truck enters the frame and begins getting closer--and louder. Even as the truck is first seen, the grinding of it is heard, and it is not long before the birds' sounds are drowned out. Soon we are right next to the truck, and the grinding that temporarily ruins the nice afternoon in the area is now all that we can hear. The particular truck we are alongside creates the loud noise, which never seems to end.
Eventually, we see JOHN, a black garbageman who looks tall and quite strong, although he struggles a bit with the garbage cans we see him emptying into the truck. After he empties the cans and places them back, he hops onto the back-side fender and motions and smiles to GEORGE, the white man driving the truck, who has been watching JOHN in the left side view mirror. GEORGE smiles back, and the two are off to the next house. JOHN soon gets off the truck and empties more full garbage cans into the back of the truck. He hops on again, and the truck moves on. The truck approaches the next house, and one again JOHN hops off to empty garbage cans, as GEORGE politely looks on through the mirror.
By now, we begin to feel something of monotony as to what has been going on, although we have seen that JOHN and GEORGE get along well together, and that each looks happy for the most part. Having now established that both men generally like their job, and that they are used to the noise, we cut back in distance to a long shot of the truck driving away. The noise of the truck fads to nothing as it leaves the frame from the right, and we are left with this view of the small town, with empty garbage cans standing firmly in front of the houses closest to us. Soon the birds are singing again, and it seems now, more than before, that it is a beautiful, quiet day.
We cut to a long view of a garbage truck depot. Once again, it is very noisy as trucks are pulling in, signaling the end of the work day. Eventually, we see JOHN and GEORGE'S truck come in and park. Upon cutting to a shot of the two men in the truck:
JOHN: You wanna punch me out today, George?
GEORGE: Sure.
GEORGE starts taking playful punches at John, and the two start laughing. Before getting out of the truck, both men look at each other, as though searching for more to say to one another.
GEORGE: Well.....I'll see you tomorrow, John.
JOHN: Bye, George.
The two get out of the truck, and GEORGE starts walking away. On the other side of the truck, however, JOHN is still standing just outside the door. He is staring into the truck, and his face becomes more serious. What he is looking at is a radio--not a music kind, but a talking-into kind, like a CB. The radio is placed firmly between both seats, below the dashboard. After lingering on the radio a few seconds too long, we cut to John getting into his own car, which is a mess. Beer and soda cans line the top of the dashboard, clothes are strewn over the seats, and all sorts of toys and stuffed animals are all over parts of the car.
JOHN pulls out of the depot, and after he pushes a few objects on the seat away from him, he turns on the radio, loud. The song playing happens to be a gospel one called "Oh Happy Day." As John drives home, we see him passing by various familiar scenes. There are people sitting on park benches, on porches, out shopping. There are children playing in the streets, and buying ice cream, while construction workers hammer noisily into the street and lovers peacefully walk out of a movie theater. All in all, we see an anthology of life going by, and it is still a nice looking, sunny day. But soon we see a hint of concern in JOHN'S eyes.
The camera cuts to JOHN pulling up in front of his house. There are toys around the yard, and full garbage cans that need to be taken out. John walks into the house and sees his wife, Tracy, preparing some food, emptying excess into a waste paper basket. JOHN gives TRACY a nice kiss.
JOHN: How's everything?
TRACY: All right.
JOHN: What did you do today?
TRACY: Not much. Ate, washed the clothes, cleaned up a little.
JOHN: Good. (pause) It was nice outside today, wasn't it?
TRACY: Beautiful.
JOHN: Where are the kids?
TRACY: Outside, playing next door.
TRACY is just about ready to serve the food.
TRACY: They should be in soon. You gonna wash up? (pause) You gonna wash up?
JOHN (absentmindedly): No.
TRACY: No? Since when? (she walks to him) Is everything all right, John?
JOHN: Yeah.
TRACY: What's the matter?
JOHN: Nothing. It's just that.....My job might be changing some.
TRACY: What do you mean?
JOHN: I mean.....I might be quitting my job.
TRACY: What?!
JOHN: I'm not sure if I have any choice.
TRACY: I don't understand.
JOHN: It's very hard to understand.
TRACY: What is it?
JOHN (after a long pause): They've.....They've bought radios for our trucks.
TRACY (curiously) : Yeah? Well, what's the matter with a little music? You were the one who always said you wanted an 8-track.
JOHN: No music.
TRACY: No music? You mean they gave you a broken radio?
JOHN (showing newspaper): This is from today's paper. Glennville Times. Civil Defense Bulletin. It says they've bought radios for all garbage trucks.
TRACY: So what?
JOHN: This article says the mayor's having sending and receiving devices put on every garbage truck in town. (pause) Whenever any bombs hit our town, those devices are going to talk to us. Those.....radios are going to tell all garbagemen where to pick up the bodies.
TRACY is shocked, and at that moment, food that was overboiling causes the lid of a pot to fall off, shattering to the ground, and with it much excess food that splatters on the floor. JOHN and TRACY look surprised, and each gets up. After TRACY lowers the gas and puts the lid back on, JOHN scoops up the food that fell and dumps it in the wastepaper basket.
JOHN: All right.....it's all right.....
TRACY: The rest of the food is OK.
JOHN: .....all right.
JOHN and TRACY sit back down at the table.
TRACY: I know I always used to watch the news, but lately they put the funniest shows on at the same time. Have things been getting that bad?
JOHN: Very bad. Many bombs are going to be dropped, and some of them might affect this town.
TRACY: You mean, people are going to die?
JOHN: Many people. And I would have to go and .....pick them up. (pause) The point is--I don't know if I want to keep my job anymore.
TRACY gets up and walks to the stove.
TRACY: I think I understand. But John, you know how much we depend on this job. I mean, what with me home, cleaning and watching the kids, your job means everything. How can we ever pay all our bills? The rent, insurance, gas and electric, telephone.....clothes. It's not easy to find a different, decent job nowadays.
JOHN: I know.....I know.
TRACY: And what about our friends.....and the kids' friends.....their school friends.....
JOHN: Yeah. I've been thinking a lot about the whole thing. I've really been thinking all day. I never thought a person's job could change so fast. I've been a garbageman for eight years, and then all of a sudden.....
TRACY: I know.....
JOHN: It just doesn't seem right that a man should be in a position to worry about such terrible things like this. I mean, people aren't garbage. I thought about that. I thought about that all day, and I thought--but who's to say what people are after they're dead?
TRACY: Only Jesus knows. And God. And the Holy Spirit. And dead people.
JOHN: I mean, a man's got to keep on going. If he doesn't, he'll just die, that's all. He'll just die.
There is a long pause while TRACY starts putting food on the table.
JOHN: I wonder.....I wonder if we would put the bodies in the truck horizontally, with the feet to the right or the heads to the right? Do men and women go in the same truck? How about children? Dogs? I wonder how many bodies we can fit in one truck? There's no guessing.....no guessing how we can do it.
TRACY: Don't worry about it too much. Just eat.
JOHN and TRACY begin to eat and the camera slowly revolves around JOHN'S face, which is deep in thought, and zeroes in on his temple, which dissolves into a shot showing garbage being dumped into a garbage truck, and being crushed.
Fade in on a small portion of a movie theater occupied by two men. The two men are quite famous critics, as we will see. We see a clip of a film they are watching.
Michael Cimino's "The Chowhunter"
A bunch of Chinese guys bring two American soldiers into a room with only a table in it. They make the Americans sit down. Then they put money on the table, as though betting on something, and make one of the men at the table--Soldier 1--hold on to a spoon.
CHINESE GUYS: Mow! Mow!
The man with the spoon picks a gun up off the table and holds it against his head.
SOLDIER 1: Oh, god. I don't think I can do it! I DON'T THINK I CAN DO IT!
SOLDIER 2: You got to do it, man. They'll kill you!
SOLDIER 1: Oh.....
CHINESE GUYS: Mow! Mow!
SOLDIER 2: C'mon! What are you waiting for!
SOLDIER 1 (the gun shaking in his hand): I'm afraid! I'm afraid!
CHINESE GUYS: Mow! Mow!
SOLDIER 2: All right, give him a chance! He'll do it!
The Chinese guys hit Soldier 2 for talking to them.
SOLDIER 2: C'mon, man!
SOLDIER 1: I'm trying! I'M TRYING!
CHINESE GUYS: Mow! Mow!
SOLDIER 1: ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT!
The soldier puts the gun down and uses the spoon to eat the Chinese food in front of him.
End clip.
Lights up.
ROGER YECKBERT: Now just what the hell was that supposed to be?
GENE PISSWELL: It's hard to believe they call that a scene from a movie. Hi. I'm Gene Pisswell, critic for the Chicago Sunny Times.
ROGER: And I'm Roger Yeckbert, critic for the magazine Super 8 Illustrated. Welcome to Sneaky Reviews. Tonight Gene and I are going to take a look at some of the movies just released this past week. Hopefully you'll agree with our opinions and see only the movies we tell you to see.
GENE: To be frank, Roger and I wouldn't want you to waste your money. We'd much rather have you waste your time, watching us.
ROGER: What do you say we start things off? In case you didn't know it, we just saw a brief scene from Michael Cimino's new film, The Chowhunter. Gene, what did you really think about it?
GENE: Well, Roger, I didn't think about it at all. I saw this film last week in New York, and the line to get in went around the building. I was waiting for a long time for this film to come out, and now I'm sorry I was first in line to see it. The story is OK, I guess, if you don't mind watching men trying desperately to act Chinese. The problem was, all the actors in it really are Chinese. I'm just very confused about the whole thing. The highlight of the film comes when the main character blows his brains out with an order of Moo Goo Gai Pan.
ROGER: Is that what that was? I thought it was the name of the female lead.
GENE: I just did not like this film at all.
ROGER: Me either. For one thing, it looked like it was shot in Super 8 and blown up to 70 millimeter. It's so grainy, you could swear it's snowing throughout the whole picture. It's a good thing it all takes place in the winter. You have to face it--the filmmakers who did this have a terrible conception of film style. I don't even think they know what kind of movies people really want to see. I wouldn't be surprised if Cimino makes some kind of western that'll cost around forty million dollars and then have it flop.
GENE: Yet, The Chowhunter is actually making money.
ROGER: Well, so are we.
GENE: And I like it better that way. That's the main thing.
ROGER: I think it's time to see our next clip. This is from the film Raging Cow.
The lights dim.
USHER: (To Pisswell) You wanna put out that cigarette? (To Yeckbert) You wanna take your feet off the seat, huh?
"Raging Cow"
VICKI is trying to adjust her TV set. CHLOE is sitting on the couch, watching the operation.
Enter FLAKE LaMOTTI, in his usual night club suit, carrying groceries. As soon as FLAKE walks in, a microphone is clearly visible at the top of the frame. It stays visible during the whole clip.
FLAKE (To Vicki): Hi, honey. How's the new TV?
VICKI: I don't know what's wrong with it. All I can get is some stupid show called MAD-TV.
FLAKE: Looks pretty bad. Oh, hi Chloe. (FLAKE gives CHLOE a big kiss.) Well, let me put the groceries away.
VICKI: Hold it there, buddy. (FLAKE stops.) Chloe, what's this kissing him like that?
CHLOE: What? Can't I kiss my brother-in-law?
VICKI: Not like that.
CHLOE (angrily): You're sick, you know that? This crap all the time is like right out of some crazy black and white movie! I'm getting out of here! (She gives VICKI a mean look and leaves.)
FLAKE: She's right, you know? You are sick.
VICKI: I'm sick?! You don't act so healthy yourself! You act like she's your wife or something. I'm your wife!
FLAKE: Ha! Don't make me puke all over myself.
VICKI: You bum, you been making it with my sister?
FLAKE (defiantly): Yeah, I made it with your sister!
VICKI: Yeah?
FLAKE: Yeah. And you know what?
VICKI: WHAT?
FLAKE: SHE WAS BETTER THAN YOU!
VICKI: YOU BIG TURD!
A fight breaks out between VICKI and FLAKE. In fact, FLAKE has been wearing boxing gloves the whole time, but the groceries were covering them up. VICKI punches FLAKE and he hits the floor. Then she kicks him three times, stomping her foot on the floor each time, like a wrestler. She picks him up by the hair, and he punches her in the stomach, and she goes into the wall. FLAKE moves to punch her again, but he hits his head on the hanging microphone. This causes him to start to act weird.
FLAKE: Moooo! Moooo!
End clip.
GENE: I think this film just has to be one of the worst. This film might have come out in 1982, but it's so awful that you can never forget it. It has the potential to make my worst films of the year list for the next six years, at least. I mean, it just sucks Super 8. I noticed the boom microphone in the picture at least two dozen times--and three times alone during the end credits. I heard rumors that when Paramount first screened this picture, the producers loved it but the projectionist died of a heart attack. How is it that pictures like this get released?
ROGER: Well, frankly, Gene, I don't think it's quite that bad. I understand when you say that it's one of the worst pictures of the year, but face it, every picture released this year is one of the worst pictures of the year. I like to think this was one of the best of the worst pictures of the year.
GENE: All I know is a movie is really bad when you see the manager of the theater throwing candy wrappers on the floor.
ROGER: I didn't notice any manager--maybe just some ushers, smoking.
GENE: What can this film be nominated for come the Academy Awards? They don't have a category for it.
ROGER: Well, the editing is really quite good, for one thing. This is probably the best edited picture I've seen since Meat Cleaver Massacre, and you know how well I thought Meat Cleaver Massacre was cut.
GENE: That's your problem, Roger. You don't judge movies by what people really care about. You have to deal with insignificant aspects like editing and photography.
ROGER: At least I don't throw popcorn at the screen when I don't like a picture.
GENE: I never did that! You bother to call yourself a critic? You never even made a movie! You never even tried to make a movie!
ROGER: So what? Neither did you!
GENE: At least I was in movies.
ROGER: What--your family's home movies?
GENE: It's something.
ROGER: I saw those movies. They had no plot. Besides, your mother was pregnant during most of them, so how can you imply you're the star? The photography was shaky--way too shaky--and the editing was non-existant.
GENE: Well, we never had good splices.....
ROGER: Now on the other hand, the costuming and set decoration.....
During the opening credits, we see numerous people just standing in line in an unemployment office. Most of the people look sort of bored, and few are talking to each other. People are continually strolling in and out of the place. Mainly, everyone is just glancing around at each other, and as the camera works its way to the front of the "Extended Benefits" line, we see on the screen during downbeat music:
NEW BRUNSWICK UNEMPLOYMENT OFFICE
MARCH 18, 1982
1:36 EASTERN STANDARD TIME
We now have a view of the front of the lines. NOLAN VOID is waiting to be called up next, but there seems to be a problem concerning the little old man in front of him.
AGENT: No sir, I'm sorry, but extended benefits doesn't mean that you'll be getting more money--it just means that you'll be getting the same amount of money for a longer period of time. You'll have to stand on line 12A over there, and that nice lady over there will be glad to help you.
The man walks away and NOLAN walks up.
NOLAN: Yes, I'm here to appeal my claim for extended benefits.....
AGENT: Have you been.....disqualified?
NOLAN: Yes, I have, and I don't understand why.
AGENT: What is your name?
NOLAN: Nolan..... Nolan Void.
AGENT: And what is your social security number?
NOLAN: Oh, gee, I really don't remember.
AGENT: You don't remember it? Mr. Void, that's almost like forgetting your name.
NOLAN: I'm sorry.
AGENT: You at least have your Social Security card?
NOLAN: No..... that's another thing I have to mention. I gave it to an agent on a different one last week and she didn't give it back to me. I didn't realize my card was missing until this morning. I thought I had it in my little envelope all along.
AGENT: That's strange, because it's against government policy to keep a person's card. What did this other agent look like?
NOLAN: She was small with glasses..... red hair. She was about three lines down.
AGENT: Not Mary!
NOLAN: I don't know.
AGENT: Mary got fired from this place three days ago. Now she has to go to unemployment.
NOLAN: Maybe she's here now, on line.
AGENT: There must be some record of you here, Mr.--
NOLAN: Void.
AGENT: Could you spell that?
NOLAN: V-O-I-D.
AGENT: That's what I thought.
The agent feeds the name into a computer to the side. She looks at the print-out and slowly walks back to NOLAN.
MAN: Uh, could we hurry it up, lady?
AGENT: You'll get your turn--just wait.
She approaches NOLAN.
AGENT: I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Void, but the computer print-out on you is completely empty.
NOLAN: What?!
AGENT: There's absolutely nothing there.
NOLAN: There must be some record of me here--in your files.....
AGENT: That computer is the file in your case. This is nothing to really worry about. All I need is some identification, and I can punch it in the computer and try to get you started again.
NOLAN: Great..... all right.
NOLAN reaches into his pocket and feels nothing. He smiles at the agent, and reaches into his other side pocket- -and feels nothing. He puts his hand in one back pocket and then the other. He unbuttons his jacket and tries his shirt pocket. He starts frisking himself.
AGENT: Don't tell me you don't have your wallet with you.
NOLAN: I can't believe this. I'm really sorry. I might have just left my wallet in the car. I'll get it and come right back.
MAN: And you'll get back on the end of the line, too. Not everyone has all day.
AGENT: All right, Mr. Void. Run out and get it right away. We'll figure this out. But I will have to take care of everyone else first.
NOLAN looks back--about twenty people are on line. He starts walking away.
AGENT: Please don't feel bad. I've seen things like this happen before.
NOLAN walks out. Frustrated, he crosses the empty street and walks over to his car. He puts his hand in his pocket, feels nothing, but then finds his keys in his other pocket. He picks out one key, but it won't fit in the lock. He tries this several times. He walks over to the other side of the car, and the key doesn't work in the other door, either. He starts to walk away, but turns back and tries his trunk key, but it doesn't work. He starts walking down the street.
NOLAN: Know what time it is?
MAN: No.
NOLAN gets on a bus to get home to his apartment. The bus is crowded, but no one is really talking to each other. The camera lingers on the people's faces, who look just as confused as NOLAN. NOLAN leaves the bus and walks into his apartment building. He walks up to the his apartment door, and pulls out his keys. Surprisingly, the key fits in his door. NOLAN takes a sigh of relief. The key doesn't turn in the lock. He keeps trying , but it is no use. He walks upstairs to the landlord's room. The landlord answers the door.
NOLAN: Hello, you don't know me--I'm Nolan Void. I live in apartment 6B.
LANDLORD: What's the name?
NOLAN: Nolan Void.
LANDLORD: Void? The name doesn't ring a bell.
NOLAN: I've lived here for the past ten years. Right now I'm out of work.
LANDLORD: No kidding.
NOLAN: I can't get my unemployment check this week because the unemployment office has no record of me. For some reason, my keys won't fit into my car or my apartment door. The truth is, I need to get my wallet and get back proper keys to my apartment.
LANDLORD: Where's your wallet?
NOLAN: I don't know. It's either in my car or in my apartment.
LANDLORD: Well, how the hell can I be sure who you are?
NOLAN: What do you mean?
LANDLORD: I don't even know you.
NOLAN: So what? Once I get my wallet, you'll know who I am. All I want to do is get into my apartment. You must have a copy of the right keys.
LANDLORD: I just can't let somebody walk into an apartment just like that. I need some identification.
NOLAN: I need some identification!
LANDLORD: Listen buddy, you don't have to start trouble. If you are who you say you are, your name will be on your mailbox. Then I can believe you live here.
NOLAN: Fine.
They walk downstairs. The mailboxes are all battered and there are hardly any names on any of the boxes.
NOLAN: Kids must have torn the name off.
LANDLORD: Sorry, I can't help you.
NOLAN: What do you mean? There's hardly any names on these mailboxes. How does anybody get their mail?
LANDLORD: At least they have a wallet.
NOLAN: What does that have to do with this? Are you crazy? Let me into my apartment! Don't treat me like I don't exist!
LANDLORD: Sorry.
NOLAN: I'm getting the cops.
NOLAN walks out and tries to find a cop. He passes by some kids who are just sitting around. But he does spot a police officer and he runs up to him.
NOLAN: Excuse me, officer, but I need some help.
COP: What's wrong, buddy?
NOLAN: Well, I can't get into my apartment right because I don't have the right set of keys and the landlord doesn't know me, so he doesn't want to give me the right set of keys with proper identification. You see, I can't find my wallet.
COP: All right, hold on a minute and calm down. Have you tried calling your neighbors or maybe your parents?
NOLAN: I'm really not that sociable. I don't make friends that easily. Oh, I had a few at the place where I used to work, but that was a while ago. And my father is dead. My mother is a alive, though..... but she's deaf. She lives in Pittsburgh with a Siberian husky. He's blind. They have no phone.
COP: I don't know what to tell you. But I know you have to get some sort of ID or proof of who you are so we can help you.
NOLAN: Well, I don't want to make a scene or anything back at my apartment, but I'm sure if I get a couple of my friends from work together to vouch for me, then I can get in and try to find everything.
COP: Well, if you need a couple of bucks for food or something, I'll help you out.
NOLAN: Well, I can use maybe a few dollars for bus fare. The old place must at least have records of me.
COP: Here's five dollars.
NOLAN: Listen, I'll try to pay you back when this is all over.
COP: Don't worry about it.
NOLAN takes the bus to New York City to find people he used to work with. But when he gets to the place of employment, he sees it is no longer there. The building is gone. He returns to Port Authority and tries to get back to New Jersey. He walks to Platform 56, where the bus should be.
NOLAN: Where do I get the bus to New Brunswick, New Jersey?
PHONE: That's Platform 56.
NOLAN: I was just there. That bus goes to Rutherford.
PHONE: You must be mistaken.
A dog looks at NOLAN and walks away.