Twilight Bob


by
Derek P. Gilbert ©2003

FADE IN TO:

INT. BOB'S APARTMENT - EVENING

Modern (for 1970s) apartment overlooking Chicago lakefront. Front door opens stage right. A balding, 40ish man wearing gray plaid sportcoat, white shirt, red tie and dark trousers enters. He has clearly had better days.

BOB

Honey! I'm home!

EMILY (O.S.)

Hi, Bob. How was your day?

BOB

Terrible! Jerry and Carol were fighting all day, Mr. Carlin insulted everyone in the group, and on the el, I got stuck for an hour next to a couple of Hari Krishnas!

EMILY HARTLEY enters stage left. She is 30s, dark hair, pretty, wearing a dress that is stylish, but still appropriate for a third-grade schoolteacher.

EMILY

You poor dear! Let me fix you a drink.

BOB (MOVING TO COUCH)

And on top of everything, I forgot to pick up those Cubs tickets I promised Howard.

EMILY (MIXING DRINK)

Well, do you have time to pick them up tomorrow?

BOB

That's just it, Emily. Doing it tomorrow will really be difficult. I have a full schedule at the office.

EMILY

Won't you have time after work?

BOB

Night baseball? At Wrigley Field?

Emily looks confused for a moment, as if trying to remember something. Finally:

EMILY

Oh. Of course. How silly. Well, I'm sure you'll think of something.

Emily crosses to couch with drink, sits down and hands drink to Bob.

Front door opens and HOWARD BORDEN, tall, late 30s, dark hair, and perpetually confused, bursts into the apartment.

HOWARD

Hi, neighbors!

EMILY

Hello, Howard.

BOB

Howard, do you ever knock?

HOWARD,

Uh, yeah. Hey, listen, Bob, about those Cubs tickets?

BOB

Howard, I…

HOWARD

Well, I, uh, forgot I have to fly to London tomorrow, so I can't use them.

BOB

Oh. Well, gee, Howard, that's too bad.

HOWARD

Yeah. I'm sorry if you went to any trouble.

BOB

Don't worry about it.

HOWARD

No, I mean it. I'm really sorry.

BOB

That's okay, Howard.

HOWARD

Well, I just want you to know I'm really sorry about this.

BOB

Howard, don't mention it.

HOWARD

You're sure it's okay?

BOB

Fine, Howard.

HOWARD

You're not mad?

BOB

I'm not mad, Howard.

HOWARD

Okay. Oh, there is one thing…

BOB

Yes?

HOWARD

Would you mind watering my plants while I'm gone?

EMILY

Howard, we water your plants when you're here.

HOWARD

Oh. Right. Well, g'bye!

Howard exits through front door.

BOB

I'll never understand how a man that scatterbrained was cleared to navigate a multi-million dollar aircraft, with hundreds of lives depending on him.

EMILY

Oh, Bob.

BOB

Really, Emily. Would you trust your life to a plane if you knew Howard was the one keeping it out of the way of other planes?

EMILY

Well…

BOB

Something else bothers me.

EMILY

What's that, dear?

BOB

Well - I've been seeing Mr. Carlin for eight years. Mr. Peterson, too, and Mrs. Bakerman.

EMILY

So?

BOB

They don't seem to make any progress. Emily, it's been eight years and Mr. Carlin is the same neurotic, narcissistic jerk he was the first time I met him!

EMILY

Now, Bob, some people…

BOB

And Mr. Peterson! He still can't move without asking Doris for permission.

EMILY

Well, Bob, maybe their problems are very deep-rooted. You're very good at what you do.

BOB

Still, Emily, after all this time…

EMILY

Don't second-guess yourself, honey! You are a wonderful psychiatrist!

BOB

Psychologist.

EMILY

…I mean psychologist.

BOB

Thanks, honey. And then Jerry and Carol…

EMILY

Oh, Bob. Those two are always teasing each other.

BOB

I know, honey. But it's the same thing every day!

EMILY

Drink your drink, Bob. Dinner's in ten minutes.

Emily kisses Bob's cheek, and then rises from couch and returns to kitchen, stage left. Bob is pensive as he sips his martini.

BOB

Hmph. Doris Peterson…

Camera pulls back from Bob, then zooms toward patio door on far wall that overlooks downtown Chicago.

NARRATOR (O.S.)

His name is Doctor Robert Hartley. His mood - troubled. The routine he once found comfortable now seems stifling.

AERIAL SHOT

A) Camera pans downtown Chicago - lights are burning as night falls on the city. The camera…

B) …follows elevated tracks north out of downtown…

NARRATOR

His wish for change is about to be granted.

C) …to he Addison Street stop, where the camera swings east, toward…

D) Wrigley Field.

NARRATOR

Doctor Hartley's next stop: The Twilight Zone.

E) And we see the bright stadium lights of a night baseball game suddenly wink out.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN TO:

INT. BOB'S OFFICE - DAY

Typical psychiatrist's office - wood paneled walls filled with shelves, plaques, and diplomas. BOB sits at a chair facing a long couch with three members of his therapy group. Left to right sits EMIL PETERSON, 40ish, mousey-looking bald man with glasses; MRS. LILLIAN BAKERMAN, an archtypical grandma; and ELLIOT CARLIN, a handsome man in his 30s with dark hair.

BOB

So how is everyone today?

CARLIN

How should I be? I'm stuck here for the next hour with Grandma Moses and Attila the Bun.

PETERSON

I resent…

CARLIN

Shut up!

PETERSON (sheepish)

Okay.

BOB

Mr. Carlin, let's try to keep things civil this time.

CARLIN

Hey, that's your job. You're the doctor. I'm paying you for the time.

BAKERMAN

Now, Mr. Carlin, you need to show some courtesy and common decency!

CARLIN

Yeah, yeah.

BAKERMAN

Apologize to Mr. Peterson!

CARLIN

Sorry.

PETERSON

Apology accepted.

BOB

That's better. Now, does anyone have anything they'd like to share today?

PETERSON

I do. If that's all right with everyone.

BAKERMAN

Absolutely, Mr. Peterson.

CARLIN

Whatever.

BOB

Go ahead, Mr. Peterson.

PETERSON

Well, I had this dream. About Doris. You know Doris, my wife?

ALL

We know.

PETERSON

Well, I dreamed that I got up in the middle of the night, went down to the kitchen, took the biggest knife from our collection of stainless steel chef's knives, went back upstairs and plunged it into Doris seventeen times.
The others stare at Mr. Peterson in stunned silence.

PETERSON (CONT'D)

And all the time, I was shouting, "Die, die, everybody die!" What do you think it means?

BOB (stuttering)

I-I think that's all for today, group.

CUT TO:

INT. - BOB'S OUTER OFFICE

BOB is standing at the desk of CAROL KESTER, the receptionist he shares with pediatric orthodontist, DR. JERRY ROBINSON. They are listening to his tale of the group's session that day.

BOB

"…everybody die!"

JERRY

Wow, Bob. Peterson finally showed some backbone.

CAROL

Jerry. I don't exactly call dreams of brutally hacking his wife to death "showing some backbone".

JERRY

Oh, I don't know. Depends on how he used that knife.

CAROL

Jerry! That's disgusting.

JERRY

Call it what you will, Carol. I see progress.

BOB

All I know is I don't want to see Mr. Hengist alone.

Jerry and Carol look at Bob, confused.

CAROL

Who?

BOB

I mean Peterson.

JERRY

You need a drink, Bob.

BOB

It's a little early, Jerry.

CAROL (heading for the coffee maker)

How about some coffee?

BOB

I don't…

CAROL (handing a cup to Bob)

Here you go, Bob. Just the way you like it.

BOB

I, uh… Thanks.

CUT TO:

INT. BOB'S APARTMENT - EVENING

Bob is sitting on the couch, looking dazed. Emily is O.S.

BOB

I just don't know what's happening.

EMILY (O.S.)

What do you mean, dear?

BOB

I've been noticing things lately.

Emily enters living room from kitchen, stage left, and sits next to Bob.

EMILY

What things?

BOB

Have you noticed that we never go anywhere but our apartment and my office?

EMILY (laughing)

Bob. What are you talking about?

BOB (suddenly intense)

I get up. I go to work. I come home. And I can't remember anything else in between!

EMILY (concerned)

Honey. You need a vacation.

BOB

If we can get away.

EMILY

What?

BOB

Emily, I tried to get tickets for the Cubs game this afternoon. They were sold out.

EMILY

So?

BOB

Emily, the Cubs stink! They're in fifth place, twenty-seven and a half games out of first place. They're playing the sixth place team, the Pittsburgh Pirates. It's a meaningless September game on a Tuesday afternoon.

EMILY

What are you saying, Bob?

BOB

There is a better chance of Howard offering to take us to dinner than the Cubs selling out a day game in September.

EMILY

Oh. I think you need a drink.

Emily gets up and heads for the dry bar, stage left.

BOB

No, I… Emily, I tried to get tickets for the White Sox this weekend. Sold out.

EMILY

Bob, you're…

BOB

Then I tried to get tickets to the Northwestern game Saturday. Against Indiana. The two worst football teams in the Big Ten. Sold out.

EMILY

What are you saying, Bob?

BOB

Emily, I can't remember how I get to work.

EMILY

Bob, you're joking with me.

BOB (growing more agitated)

No, I'm not. I catch the el right outside our building. I get off right outside my office. But I can't remember the ride in between!

Emily returns with Bob's drink.

EMILY

You've been working too hard, honey. Here. Drink this. Relax and you'll feel better. Excuse me.

Emily exits stage right. Bob waits until Emily is out of the room, then he rises from the couch, drink in hand, and empties the glass into a potted ficus.

BOB

I can't get out. I can't get out.

EMILY (O.S.)

Oh, Bob?

BOB

Yeah?

EMILY (O.S.)

Do you want to do the family-making thing?

BOB (puzzled)

The what?

EMILY (O.S.)

You know. Exchange long protein strings.

Bob stares silently in the direction of the bedroom, clearly confused.

EMILY (CONT'D)

Uh, wait.

A moment's pause.

EMILY (CONT'D)

How about I slip into something a little more comfortable?

BOB

Uh, okay.

Bob wanders over to the patio door and stares out at the city, trying to make sense of it all.

CUT TO:

INT. SPACECRAFT

Two huge alien creatures are staring back at Bob from what is obviously the interior of an extraterrestial interstellar spacecraft. They are green, about ten feet tall, and vaguely octopus-shaped. On each of the creatures, a single baleful eye sits above rubbery lips, from which ooze a thick, phlegmlike spittle.

KANG

How long must we keep him in the holodeck?

KODOS

Until we reach Rigel IV.

KANG

This one is intelligent. It won't be easy.

KODOS

We must not fail. The council wants a fresh one. Freezing make them useless for our research.

CAMERA PULLS BACK…

NARRATOR (O.S.)

Doctor Robert Hartley. One of thousands, perhaps millions who wake up one morning to find the fast track has become a rut.

REVEALING MORE OF THE CABIN…

NARRATOR (CONT'D)

One of the few willing to look past his comfortable home, pretty wife, and successful career.

TO REVEAL A BOOK SITTING ON A CONTROL PANEL…

NARRATOR (CONT'D)

To discover that the el has somehow dropped him at a station not marked on the transit authority maps - a station called…

CLOSING ON THE BOOK, WE SEE THE TITLE: "TO SERVE MAN".

NARRATOR (CONT'D)

The Twilight Zone.

The End