The Shards

My name is Ryan Gifford.

In 1981, I was 18 years old and a senior in Sherman Oaks, California.

On school days,

- I'd set my alarm for 5:45 a.m… -

- …even though I didn't have to be awake… -

…for another hour.

I loved the snooze button.

I felt like I was getting away with something.

By 6:45 a.m., I'll already have indulged myself four times today.

Not too bad.

In the shower, I'd apply soap on my body in descending order.

Shoulders first.

Then my chest.

Abs.

Ass.

Thighs.

And lastly, calves.

I preferred washing in descending order

because it prevents dirty water from touching clean skin.

I'd shave, apply aftershave, and top off with a dab of Kouros.

It's for men.

I loved Buc Wheats,

a General Mills cereal

that would be discontinued just a few short months from today.

Crunchy wheat flakes coated in real maple glaze.

Although later, General Mills would tweak the recipe

and substitute maple glaze for sugar coating,

with predictably disastrous results.

Today, October 4th, 1981,

I only had 92 bowls of Buc Wheats left in my life.

Now 91.

I drove a 1978 Pontiac Trans Am.

Stick.

Girls love guys who drive stick.

From my house on Mooncrest Avenue in Encino,

it'd take me anywhere from 19 to 23 minutes to drive to school.

Yo, you're late.

But that morning, I wasn't going to school.

Butch is looking for ya.

I wouldn't say acting in pornography was a passion of mine or anything,

but after my dad lost all our family's money co-financing Heaven's Gate,

I had to come up with the money to pay for Yale somehow.

Jan Butch Banxxx was one of the most prolific pornographers

in the entire San Fernando Valley.

I liked that she was a badass woman in a man's business,

a true new kind of pioneer in the biz.

I couldn't help you noticing my VCR.

It's a fantastic, great new technology.

Watching some movies?

No.

No, Troy, I am making some movies.

- Actually, it's Ryan. - Wait.

That's not what it says on the poster.

Wait, what do you mean you're making movies? For the VCR?

Picture this. Touching yourself, i.e., stroking to completion,

in the privacy and comfort of your own home.

No more sticky floors. No more unwieldy armrests.

No more accidentally making eye contact

with some pervert you recognize from church.

In ten years, VHS tapes are gonna put the porno theaters out of business.

So, someone can just buy their own VHS tape of one of my movies?

Oh, yes, they will and they can.

But I thought my stuff was only being released overseas.

- What if someone recognizes me? -

You promised me no one would recognize me.

Verbally promised.

I mean, look, it'll be a decade before those things are retailing under a grand.

And by the time this could come back to haunt you,

you'll have forgotten all about it.

That's not comforting.

I... It's not?

Is this why you wanted to see me?

No, listen, I need you to break in a girl.

Well, a woman actually.

You think you can handle it there, hot stuff? Huh?

Maybe show her the ropes?

Hmm, like a bondage thing?

Not real ropes, metaphoric ropes.

- Who is she? - Oh, honey,

she'll be whoever you want her to be.

I like to call her Cami Soul.

- Cami Soul? - Mm-hmm.

Shit.

Can we talk about this VCR thing at some point?

Ryan, I'd like you to meet my newest star, Ms. Cami Soul.

Oh, hey, Ryan.

Mrs. Schaffer?

You two know each other?

That's fantastic.

Well, this is a big scene, a big chewy scene.

Throb Johnson, aka you, is eager to fuck his stepmom, aka Cami Soul.

So, that's what's gonna happen dramaturgically.

- Wow. Plotty. - Yeah.

By the way, I saw the dailies from yesterday.

The orgy scenes were incredible.

- It's the script. - Okay, second team's off.

- First team going in. -

Okay, Lucy, Desi, let's go.

Everything good, honey?

- How's your mom? - Good.

Good.

Do me a favor.

Don't tell you-know-who about what I'm doing.

My husband and my daughter.

Yeah, no, I figured that's who you were talking about.

- Sound's up! -

You smell good.

Kouros?

- Let's fuck! -

Please, please, please, please, please.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I wanna go home.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Please, please let me go home!

Please.

I want to see my mommy.

Please, I'll give you a Popsicle.

Cunt. Shitlicker. Motherfucker.

Help me!

Please!

No! Please! No!

Please, please, no.

Please. Please.

Please let me go.

What is that?

Eat it.

No, what is it?

- Eat it. - No!

Help!

Thom, I need you home after school.

I have plans.

What are your plans?

Hanging out.

Okay, well, uh, c-could you hang out a different day?

I've got something I need to tell you. It's important.

What?

Well, there's someone I want you to meet.

I know it has been difficult since your dad left.

Dad didn't leave. You kicked him out.

- I gave your father an ultimatum. - Whatever.

Oh, th-this has been a difficult transition for me too, okay?

- And Ted has been a... - Ted?

Ted has been a silver lining, okay?

He makes me happy. He wants to take care of us.

He's a podiatrist.

Gross.

Is everything okay?

Yeah, just stuff with my mom.

I'm sorry. I thought she was doing better.

She is. But it's weird.

My dad was around, it was hard to see her so sad.

And now that he's gone, it's hard to see her so happy.

It's like being a family was the thing that was making her so depressed.

It would be very destabilizing to see Liz happy.

I know what will cheer us up.

Let's get some booze.

Mr. Flanigan?

Holy shit. Mr. Flanigan.

Ms. Schaffer, Mr. Wright, Ms. Reynolds.

I don't understand. Did you quit your job at the school?

Sometimes, I work here on weekends, pick up extra shifts.

So, what can I get you?

Three Tom Collins.

Do you guys want anything?

Can't serve you alcohol. None of you are 21.

That's not what this ID says.

Any preference on gin?

Your best.

And a side of fries.

Oh, my God. He totally bought it.

I told you these IDs are great.

Hey, Bret.

Hey.

Are you okay?

I don't know how anyone could be okay given everything that's going on.

What do you mean? What's going on?

Matt.

What about him?

He's still missing.

Police aren't releasing any additional information.

Bummer.

I keep having this nightmare about The Trawler.

I'm back in my old house in Trousdale.

I keep hearing the phone ringing, but I can't tell what room it's coming from,

so I keep running from room to room trying to find it.

What does he look like?

I don't even know.

It's not figural. It's just a feeling.

I think The Trawler, or the threat of The Trawler,

has divided my life into a before and an after.

And now that he's here, I've crossed into this other world of death and adults.

It reminds me of this Japanese concept I read about called mono no aware.

It means like a sadness that everything ends.

One day, I'm gonna feel like a kid for the last time,

but I'm not gonna realize that it's the last time until a lot later.

Your table's ready.

Mmm. We should definitely have these at Robert's party.

- Wait, that's still happening? - Yeah, why wouldn't it be?

Well, for starters, two of our classmates are missing.

I heard Really Rhonda's parents sent her to a special needs institution