Jim Krusoe - The Sleep Garden

Tech #1:

What do you hate the most?

Tech #2:

I hate the fact that we have to keep them on.

Tech #1:

Day and night.

Tech #2:

Awake and sleeping.

Tech #1:

Yes, and on top of wearing the hats day and night, and on top of having to be sure all these people get where they are going when they’re supposed to be there.

Tech #2:

Right. On top of that, what?

Tech #1:

On top of that, now there’s the problem with the Burrow, too.

Today it is snowing , Junior thinks, though in reality it isn’t, because it never snows in St. Nils. It’s only snowing in the part of his mind that sees the world as unhappy because he is unhappy. And yes, he knows there are many who say the world is neither happy nor unhappy, but how are we supposed to know anything at all about the outer world except through our inner world? So if we are unhappy, then it’s just too bad for the world, because what is the world good for, anyway? He likes how it feels to think these thoughts.

Or not, because this much thinking makes things even worse, thinks Junior, as when he thinks he has a thorn in his foot and the world won’t get back to being okay again until it’s removed, and people can talk about it all they want, can tell him to think about this or that, but still that thorn has got to come out. Now, Junior thinks, who in this case put the thorn in my foot in the first place?

That’s easy: it was that captain, the old guy they brought onto the set of Mellow Valley , the asshole who was supposed to advise the actor playing an old sea captain in the episode where he wanders onto the farm and thinks he’s at sea. That guy — not the actor, who was okay, but that captain hired to advise the actor — being a sea captain, couldn’t help but remind him of Junior Senior, the father he never knew, whose child-rearing strategy was essentially the same as a carp’s: spawn and leave; spawn and get the hell out, because however much of a dumbass he may have been, clearly he had some incorrect premonition that his child would be even more worthless, and no matter how many awards (none) Junior ever won in junior (ha!) high school, it would never be enough to tip the scale where Senior (if he ever heard about them) would understand that he had made a mistake back then. But he was wrong: Junior is not a loser, a creep, a gimp, a nerd, a doofus. No. Junior is a real man. He’ll show him. If not now, soon. Junior is through with all of Junior Senior’s bullshit.

And okay: so he knows the old guy, this captain, wasn’t his actual father, but when that asshole was on the set of Mellow Valley , he certainly acted like he was, making fun of Junior and pointing out his faults to other members of the cast, including, most importantly, to Heather. But even though he called the old man out in public at that alleged lecture , the man never even tried to answer his charges, and before Junior knew what was happening the old guy’s henchmen had dragged him outside and told him never to show up again. Honestly, even thinking about it makes Junior want to shoot someone, not with a gun, of course, but with something quieter and just as deadly at close range — say, Old Stag Killer.

What would his therapist, Tammy, say if she knew? Junior wonders.

But of course he’ll never tell because if he did she’d say he’s a sicko; that’s what she would say.

She’d say, “Back to the nuthouse for you.”

Episode One, The Burrow , Scene One

Scary theme music plays.

An empty, darkened kitchen. Through a door, left, two men enter. Their faces are turned away from the camera as together they slowly walk to the refrigerator. VIKTOR makes the gesture “after you,” in a way that seems mocking. The other man, named JEFFERY, opens the refrigerator door and takes out a carton of milk. Then, going to a cabinet, JEFFERY takes down a box of sugarcoated cereal. He fills a bowl, takes it to the table, and silently starts to eat. Meanwhile, VIKTOR rummages around in the refrigerator until he finds an open pack of cheese enchiladas. He takes it out and puts it in the microwave. While waiting for the microwave to signal that the enchiladas are heated, VIKTOR paces. When the oven makes its tiny beep, he removes the pack, leaving behind a smear of cheese on the counter, takes out a fork, and joins JEFFERY at the table.

Viktor:

Have you ever seen a rat trapped in a cardboard box?

Jeffery:

What kind of cardboard box? Are you thinking about those that four six-packs of soft drinks come in, or more like this cereal box, something skinny that you can close at the top?

Viktor:

No. What I had in mind was the kind of box that holds several packages of toilet paper, or possibly paper towels — a big one, with high sides.

Jeffery:

No, I haven’t.

Viktor:

Well, let me tell you about it. The first thing a rat will do in that situation is to jump around in every direction and try to find a way out.

Jeffery:

Are you sure? I remember back when I was a kid I went to a pet store once and the owner let one crawl all over me. It was white and had brown spots. It was nice but my mother wouldn’t let me have it. I must have been around ten. .

Viktor:

I’m not talking about tame rats. I’m talking about wild rats, the kind you see in sewers and in garbage dumps. Big, fierce ones. They’re usually brown or gray.

Jeffery:

Okay, I thought you meant tame ones. So what are you saying?

Viktor:

I’m saying that when, after a while, after a rat has finished jumping around and he finally understands he can’t get out, do you know what he will do?

Jeffery:

No.

Viktor:

He goes to a corner — it doesn’t make a difference which one, because they’re all the same in a box — and he puts his back against the wall, and then he turns and bares his fangs.

Jeffery:

His fangs? Do rats have fangs?

Viktor:

Well, his teeth. He bares his teeth.

Jeffery:

So why are you telling me this?

Enter HEATHER, who is wearing a short nightgown and fluffy slippers.

Heather:

Oh, sorry guys. I didn’t mean to disturb your man-talk.

Jeffery:

No problem. I was just leaving.

Viktor:

Me too. I was just leaving, too.

The men rise and leave their dirty plates on the table. VIKTOR takes a long look at HEATHER, before exiting, as if he is deciding something. JEFFERY just walks out. HEATHER picks up the plates and puts them in the sink. She washes them and places them in the drying rack to dry. She shakes her head.

Heather:

Did I do something wrong? I was going to have the enchiladas I was saving, but now I’m not so hungry.

Going from one mediocre celebrity dinner after another makes the Captain almost long for those sickening buffets back at sea — those endless fancy platters displaying dead animals, dead fish, dead grasses ripped from the earth — not so different, come to think of it, than having to repeat the same stories again and again, waiting for the audience to laugh at the same lines, in the same places. What kind of life is that for a real man, a man who is basically a man of action? The Captain tries to remember the last truly good time he had. Was it running down that boat full of so-called sightseers in Rangoon harbor? Standing, lashed to the wheel, during that typhoon in the China Sea? And on land? Possibly working as a technical advisor to that silly show about hippies. It was ridiculous, but at least there were lots of pretty girls, and the pay was good, despite the smart-asses in the production crew, that idiot of a director, and that infuriating kid, Junior something. That is, until what happened at the very end.