Dear Luke, We Need to Talk, Darth
Page 6
“Atomic War Hooray.” We open just as the missiles are hitting targets and mushroom clouds are erupting all over the world. Yes, millions of people die but everyone agrees that things were getting awfully crowded around the planet anyway. Lots of animals and plants are wiped out and all the lakes and rivers are poisoned. This takes away many sources of food for the surviving humans but guess what: the radiation makes all the humans into superhumans who no longer need food and water. Everyone is ten feet tall and super athletic and good looking and smart. And they have sex all over the place. Now I know that this is where the twist comes in and something ironic happens when people realize that maybe this isn’t heaven at all but a form of hell. Like maybe they only live for five minutes or something. But the twist here is: there is no twist. Life is just super awesome forever. This pitch co-sponsored by Boeing and General Electric. Headquartered IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
“The Raffle Ticket.” A couple buys a raffle ticket at a carnival. They end up winning the grand prize of an all-expenses-paid, two-week vacation. They are delighted to receive this news but fail to note where the vacation will take place: Barf Island. Yep, the island where everyone barfs all the time. Okay, the twist: they really like it and end up buying and running their own resort there and live there, constantly barfing. You can send away for a brochure IN CARE OF THE TWILIGHT ZONE. Note: it would be really great if you could get Doris Day and Rock Hudson to star in this one.
“The Thief’s Assistant.” A bank robber’s big heist goes wrong when a security guard, in an attempt to stop the robbery, shoots himself to death. The ghost of the guard follows the robber to his hideout, not aware that he is dead. The robber, not really a bad guy at heart, relays the bad news to the guard and eventually takes him on as an assistant for a series of burglaries. It’s a sweet setup: ghost frightens the homeowner out of the house, robber grabs the loot. Over the years, their friendship grows stronger and they leave the life of crime and open a small bed and breakfast. Years go by and nothing much happens. The former robber dies but produces no ghost. The ghost is sad forever because his soul cannot be transported. Their divergent paths reveal that life ultimately leads to death, which will either be nothingness or isolation. And are those things really that different after all? I mean, if you’re alone and out of contact with anyone, isn’t it just the same as the cessation of being itself? Maybe there’s a pie fight at the end or something IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
Please find enclosed the complete British Intelligence files on the fates of Agents 001 through 006. These files are for your eyes only, only for you.
—M
AGENT 001—ALBERT FROST. STATUS: DECEASED
Mr. Frost was the first agent in the history of British intelligence to receive a designated agent number. Being well-regarded within our operation, he was assigned the number 001, the two zeros being placed there with some degree of hope that we would receive funding to hire hundreds more, a wish that remains unfulfilled.
Mr. Frost was deployed to stop international jewel thief Silas Query, aka Dr. Query, or sometimes the unpronounceable “?”. Having stolen valuable items from several major museums, Query had set his sights on the Crown Jewels of England.
According to guards nearby, Frost had cornered Query in an entryway of Buckingham Palace. Agent 001 looked at Query with a bemused expression and said, “Well, Dr. Query. The only question now seems to be whether you will perish here or be sent to prison.” Then Dr. Query shot Frost to death.
The lesson learned from the death of Agent 001 is that bons mots are not enough in apprehending a criminal. An agent must either display a credible threat to the suspect or have the ability to get out of a dangerous situation. After Frost’s passing, the agency chose to start arming agents. It was seen as somewhat shameful that this had not been considered in advance.
AGENT 002—LIAM WINCHESTER. STATUS: DECEASED
Mr. Liam Winchester, unlike his predecessor, carried a handgun. His undoing, however, was the combination of that weapon and Winchester’s penchant for alcohol. Whilst undercover at a Monte Carlo casino, on the trail of an international art thief, Winchester ordered a Martini. The drink was brought to him shaken although he preferred his Martinis stirred.
Not being well trained in the appropriate use of handguns, Agent 002 drew his weapon and used it to stir his Martini. Various criminals spotted the gun, sussed out that Winchester was a law enforcement agent, and swiftly killed him.
From the death of Agent 002, we learned that one should be discreet about one’s weapon. Also, to be on the safe side, agents should henceforth order Martinis shaken and not stirred. One might go so far as requesting agents not to drink on the job at all, but seeing as how we employ only the most desperate and self-destructive of alcoholics, this is not seen as an attainable goal.
AGENT 003—LEONARD DUNN. STATUS: MISSING
After Winchester’s death, there was an emphasis placed on discipline among the agents. Yes, they were allowed to have cocktails (one must drink, after all), but otherwise the job was to be all business. This included one’s social life whilst on assignment. To wit, no dating and certainly no sex.
Mr. Dunn, prior to this rule, quite fancied the ladies and was known to frequently be seen with a beautiful girl on his arm. His loyalty to country and Queen was stronger, however, and he dutifully abided by the rules. For a while.
Ultimately, his need for sex and his sense of responsibility collided with such violent force that his brain snapped. Agent 003 was last seen wandering the streets of London taping Union Jacks over the breasts of women in fashion adverts.
AGENT 004—A GOAT. STATUS: DECEASED
This particular approach was doomed from the start. We’ll leave it at that.
AGENT 005—NIGEL TEMPLETON. STATUS: RESIGNED IN DISGRACE
With the hiring of Mr. Templeton, we initiated a complete overhaul of our approach to the agents.
OUT:
• Celibacy
• Goats (obviously)
IN:
• Highly advanced weaponry (can’t rely on one gun in a world rapidly becoming more dangerous).
• Clever minds capable of witty repartee, so much the better to banter with baddies and seduce women who might be able to share valuable information.
• Fucking.
Mr. Templeton was named Agent 005 and was put on the trail of a menacing organized crime kingpin. This assignment required Agent 005 to maneuver through the highest social circles of the French Riviera. His progress was somewhat limited, however, by the attire he had been assigned. Templeton was given a pair of denim overalls with large patches in gaudy fabric on them, and with the strap on one shoulder broken. He was also given a comically large straw hat and a corncob pipe. We gave Agent 005 no shoes and encouraged him to walk around barefoot.
Details are still somewhat sketchy on the exact rationale behind such a wardrobe assignment. Inspectors found a single memo saying, “Everybody LOVES hillbillies!” and that seems to be about all the thinking that went into it.
Obviously, such a disguise was not effective among the glitterati and hillbillies are not a native concept to the British. Agent 005 failed and hundreds of people died as a result. Templeton resigned. Last we heard, he was running moonshine stills in America.
After this disaster, a more stringent dress code was implemented. Posh fashions only.
AGENT 006—CLIVE EDWARDS. STATUS: DECEASED
Mr. Edwards, we were convinced, had it all going for him: a knowledge of weaponry, sharp clothes, quick wit, alcoholism, a way with women. He was the perfect spy.
So confident were we that when he was captured by hyperintelligent madman Dr. Cruelty, we were sure that he would escape. Dr. Cruelty, true to his name, strapped Agent 006 to a conveyor belt that moved ever-so-slowly toward a highly charged laser beam that would slice right through Agent 006, killing him. Dr. Cruelty then left the room, confident that the laser would kill Agent 006.
Which it did. The photos are quite gruesome.
It was a difficult time for the agency and the British government as a whole. What more could we do to protect our agents when they were all, ultimately, human and thus fallible?
“What if,” M asked, “we didn’t rely on just one person?”
Here was a true turning point. In the construction of Agent 007, we opted to rotate the role through various people. We could start with, say, a good-looking macho Scotsman, then if we get tired of him or he wants too much money or he feels that his range is being limited by being associated with the Agent 007 role, we just move on. Maybe give the job to a more droll Brit, then a couple of guys no one liked all that much, and then a blond guy who everyone thinks is pretty hot.
With this approach, we believe Agent 007 can, in effect, live forever.
AN ORAL HISTORY OF THE PAC-MAN GHOSTS
BLINKY, Red Ghost
I think it’s easy for someone to come in here and say, “Wow, you live in a maze, that must be terrible.” To me, living in a big house with huge rooms, that would be terrible. In the maze, there’s always somewhere to hide. When we were kids it was a blast. Epic hide-and-seek games. Epic. And now as ghosts, hiding is just kind of a natural inclination for us. I’m happy here.
PINKY, Pink Ghost
We haven’t let death interfere with the operation of the farm. No, sir.
INKY, Cyan Ghost
All four of us siblings, we’ve always been very close. We grew up together here in the maze. Our parent ran the pellet farm, just as his parent had before. We kind of all refer to him as a him, but in truth we are genderless. I have never known genitalia.
CLYDE, Orange Ghost
Dad somehow generated us from his own body. We don’t know how he did that.
PINKY
A lot of people wonder, “Oh, was it Pac-Man who killed your father?” But it wasn’t. It was pancreatic cancer. It took many years and it was incredibly painful.
BLINKY
In the last few months it was particularly difficult for all of us because of, you know, the maze that we live in. We’d hear him call out for pain medicine or something, glass of water, and all four of us would zip around trying to figure out where he was this time. But he refused to be moved to hospice care. The pellet farm mattered that much to him.
INKY
So when he died, the four of us kept running the farm. We weren’t suited for any other kind of work.
BLINKY
The outside world can always use a good crop of nutrient pellets. And the money we made from that could get us what we needed to get by: security for the maze, routine maintenance, fruit to eat. We’d plant a new pellet crop and then keep going.
CLYDE
I dreamed of getting out of here. I’ll be honest. I was … am … kind of the rebel of the group. Look at my name. I was interested in moving to Portland and maybe opening a coffee shop. I thought getting into social work would have been interesting; go back to school for that if necessary.
INKY
Clyde was ridiculous. Family is family and our family is pellet farmers.
CLYDE
So I stayed. And I’m still here.
INKY
Blinky has always kind of run things. Clyde certainly couldn’t do it, so distracted. Pinky and I, we’re followers.
BLINKY
We had a good life. We got by. Dying was unfortunate. I did not see death coming.
PINKY
Gas leak. We were all asleep and we just never woke up.
INKY
It actually took us most of that morning to realize that we had become ghosts. We sat down to breakfast but, after a while, realized that the fruit we were eating was still on the plate. We checked in our room, the only room, the one in the middle of the maze, and our bodies were there.
BLINKY
So we burned them and got right back to work.
CLYDE
It was a hard day for me. If death wasn’t going to get me out of here, what good would all these grad school applications do me?
INKY
Things continued like that for, gosh, I don’t know how long. I mean, I really don’t. You tend to lose track of time when you’re dead.
PINKY
Sometimes Clyde and I would run into each other in the upper-right quadrant or something and talk about why we were still here. Like, is there unfinished business or something? Why haven’t we moved on to the next plane, you know?
CLYDE
We tried to bring that up to Blinky once.
BLINKY
We are here to farm the pellets. It’s a stupid question and it’s a waste of time.
INKY
I’ll never forget when I heard that horrible sound for the first time. Wocka. Wocka.
PINKY
Wocka wocka wocka.
CLYDE
Wocka wocka wocka wocka wocka wocka wocka wocka wocka wocka.
PINKY
Then I saw this horrible color, this … yellow. This thing was all mouth. Literally all mouth.
BLINKY
First, I thought, “What the FUCK does this guy think he’s doing?” Then I thought, “Destroy.” Instinct kicked in.
CLYDE
Someone must have left a door open or something. But it doesn’t have hands. How did it get here? Anyway, we were all with Blinky on this. Get it. Kill that motherfucker.
INKY
Thing is, wherever it goes, it eats pellets. It’s not like we have a farm house and then fields out back. We’re not oat farmers. We’re not cattle ranchers. We raise nutrient pellets. The only place pellets can grow is inside a maze. Everyone knows that. So the more we chase it, the more it consumes.
BLINKY
I remember the first time we caught it, we were so happy. We thought it was just a freak occurrence that had been taken care of. But then it showed up again. So we killed it again. And then it came back once more! After that killing, we had peace for a while.
CLYDE
It seems to always get three lives at a time.
PINKY
The big pellets were my idea. I thought it could be really great for business. Maybe people would pay more and then we could have fruit all the time, you know? I spent a lot of time genetically engineering these things.
INKY
Look, I happen to believe in a larger plan. Pinky defiled nature and now we must all pay the price. We were all swayed at first. The big pellets were attractive. But the devil is in the details and the details in this case were disastrous for us.
CLYDE
The first time Pac-Man ate one of the big pellets, I can’t even describe the feeling. It was like being hollowed out. Like you know in Harry Potter when the Dementors attack Harry and he feels like all hope is gone? We turned blue.
PINKY
One time, back when I was alive, I went off my meds for a few days. The big pellets being eaten feels like that times ten.
BLINKY
I never expected to shut down like that. And Pac-Man senses that and just attacks.
CLYDE
When Pac-Man first ate me, I thought, well, okay. Now I get out. Now I move on to heaven or hell or nothing. And so there was a sense of relief, almost.
INKY
But then we come back as ghosts in that room again. Still dead, but powerful once more.
PINKY
How many forms can death take?
BLINKY
I love it. I LOVE being reborn as a ghost because it’s a chance to go after that fucker again.
INKY
Blinky knows what’s best. We all trust him.
CLYDE
The emergence of Pac-Man has really made me think about things a lot. Like why do we maintain the farm at all? We raised the pellets to sell the pellets, right? So we could have money to buy fruit. Which we can no longer eat.
INKY
It’s nice to have the fruit around. I wish we could eat that fruit.
PINKY
Pac-Man is the only who eats the fruit anymore. Bl
inky and Inky set it out as, I don’t know, some kind of totem of the living, some kind of effort toward normalcy. But really, it’s just a sacrifice to Pac-Man.
CLYDE
I think we love Pac-Man. I would go a step further. I think we worship Pac-Man. Pac-Man gives our life meaning. We chase him, we destroy him, or we are destroyed by him. But no matter what happens, there is always rebirth.
PINKY
I would like to die. Really die. I don’t think I ever will.
INKY
Sometimes I gaze out into space, which is easy to do because the maze has no roof. And I think I see people walking toward me.
PINKY
I do believe in the sky people. I do. Maybe I’m crazy but just before Pac-Man arrives, I think I see them.
CLYDE
I don’t talk about religion much with Blinky. I don’t want to get him or her, it, Blinky, I don’t want to get Blinky upset. But I think the sky people bring us Pac-Man. I think that explains what Pinky and Inky see, I think that explains the sound of something being dropped down a slot. I think it’s all part of the plan. The sky people are God and they send us their only son, Pac-Man.
BLINKY
Pellets.
INKY
Blink.
CLYDE
God.
PINKY
Death.
NOTES BETWEEN OZZY OSBOURNE AND TONY IOMMI OF BLACK SABBATH
Ozzy,
I was looking at the lyrics of “War Pigs”:
Generals gathered in their masses