The Twilight Zone

No. No, no, no.

Wait, Anne, yeah, can you just,

can you just give me a minute?

Yeah, this is Wednesday, so I'm at, uh...

Dad? Dad, it's Jeff.

Yeah, can you just, can you just give me a minute? Yeah, yeah.

Why isn't he fucking answering?

Dad, it's Jeff.

Anne, Anne, we shouldn't just throw away our marriage.

Unless you've found someone else.

You haven't, have you?

No, no, I just want it to work out with us.

Yeah, well, I gave you space. I moved out, didn't I?

Dad?

Yeah. Yes, Anne,

I got the... the couples' therapist,

and if that doesn't reset the marriage, then fine,

I'll-I'll relent. We can look into arbitration.

Dad? Come on, it's White Hot night.

Because I... because I... Anne. Can you just, can you listen?

Can you just... For a minute? Like I said before,

it's just not the right time.

I-I can't afford to go down the... Dad?

I can't afford to go down the divorce attorney route.

Fuck. I got to...

Oh, fuck. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Fuck. Fuck.

Yes, it's my father.

Uh, in his... room.

He's, um...

he's shot himself.

Otis. My father's name is Otis Storck.

Professor Jeff Storck? I need you to know that

such circumstances are always investigated,

but we all know what this is.

Does this

belong to your father?

Is it registered to him?

Look, Mr. Storck,

I know this is certainly upsetting...

...be on our way if you can tell me

- if this is your father's gun. - No.

No way. It's not.

I don't know where it came from, but he-he hates guns.

My father is... he's a lifelong hippie.

Take this to the lab.

- Go over it with ballistics. - Yes, sir.

Was your father sick?

Alzheimer's?

I realize you have a job to do and whatever,

but can we do it later, maybe? I mean, my father just

basically shot himself in front of me.

No. It would've been last night some time.

I said "basically," didn't I?

Basically means basically,

not absolutely.

Basically.

He left a note.

- Fuck sake. - I am permitted

to read it to you,

- if that's what you want. - Can't you just... Can I...

Can't I just read it?

Here sits Professor Jeffery Mingus Storck,

a man who holds a doctorate in anthropology,

but possesses little true knowledge of himself.

Today, Professor Storck is surrounded

by the many familiar artifacts that shaped his father's life,

and the one unknown object that ended it.

As a scientist, he's about to embark

on his darkest research project yet.

His conclusion will lie somewhere between

the barrel of a gun and the outer regions

of The Twilight Zone.

You're traveling through another dimension,

a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind.

It is the middle ground between light and shadow,

between science and superstition.

And it lies between the pit of one's fears

and the summit of one's knowledge.

You are now traveling through a dimension of imagination.

You've just crossed over into The Twilight Zone.

My dad fell in love with Lake Cayuga

back when he played the Watkins Glen festival

one lake over in 1973.

He jammed with the Grateful Dead during their sound check

the day before they went on.

He led a pretty interesting life, all told.

Skipped up to Canada with Neil Young and Crazy Horse

when he was evading the Vietnam draft.

My father played Cuba in '69,

that Havana Jam thing with Billy Joel

and Stephen Stills.

Met my mother

on the march to Montgomery.

Dragged us the whole way here from Ireland.

Never looked back.

Never got divorced.

Never went bankrupt.

Never went unloved.

Did it not turn out as he wanted?

I...

Who did you love more than me?

Okay...

Fuck...

What the fuck is that?

Good morning, Jeff.

- Yo, Jeff, what's up? - All good. How about you, Jeff?

See you tonight at Jeff's dorm, right?

Oh, my God, Jeff

- is a total Jeff. - Such a Jeff.

Jeff!

Hey, Jeff.

That's a good boy. That's a boy.

Fuck...

Get out of my house!

It's me! It's me! It's me!

Anne, it's me.

- I'm just getting my mail. - Jesus.

You scared the shit out of me.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just wanted...

Jesus, Jeff. Oh, fuck.

Do you know how to, do you know how to do

- the-the safety thing? - Just... you point it.

I-I don't remember.

Why-why have you even got that?

I live alone now,

- and there were two home invasions. - What?

A couple of streets over.

Oh, um, this came for you, too.

The police delivered it earlier this evening.

Must be my dad's gun.

It's probably worth something.

Yeah, I'm not gonna make money off

my dad's suicide, Anne.

You're gonna need the money, Jeff.

Friends have told me that I should get an attorney

to protect both of us.

Oh... So...

that's what I did.

He'll contact you.

We talked about this, didn't we?

- I've been trying to tell you. - A lot.

- The thing is, Jeff... - You said you were okay with us

going to couple's therapy, so... It's that...

- I-I... - What the fuck?

I have fallen in love

with another man...

named Jeff.

Oh, shit.

Am I "him"?

Or am I "you"?

The gun superstore dot com.

Yeah, hey, I'm-I'm looking to get rid of a gun.

You got the paperwork?

Uh, look-look, I-I don't know

anything about guns. It seems old.

- How about the serial number? - Um...

- It's on the grip. - Oh.

Yeah. 1015-59.

Okay...

Oh, hey, any chance there's a Blue Scorpion on the handle?

Yeah. There very much is.

Holy shit! I thought the Blue Scorpion was a myth.

Dates back to 1952. It's from Cuba.

Che Guevara was looking for that gun.

It was made by this guy, Eulogio Cienfuegos.

The legend is, you don't find it, it finds you.

We can get you, like, $25,000 to $50,000 for the Blue Scorpion.

Okay. I mean, whatever.

I just want to get the bloody thing out of my life.

So, if you... Fucking shit!

- Oh, my God! Are you all right? - What the...?

Are you there, brother?

- Shit. - Hey...

...are you okay?

Oh... Yeah.

I'm all right, I'm okay, I'm all right. Fuck.

Jesus Christ, was there a round in the chamber?

I don't know.

Okay.

Send me all your information and a picture of the gun.

I'll take care of everything.

Once it's sold, and if you don't have a license,

- you'll have to ship it, by carrier. - Yeah.

But if you do, don't forget

to punch a small hole in the box so some light

can get in. Legend is,

the Blue Scorpion's afraid of the dark.

Where do I send my information?

To me, Bob Jeff, at the gun superstore dot com.

- P.O. Box 5252... - Hold on.

- ...Earlysville, Virginia 22901. - Did you just say "Jeff"?

I-I'm sorry, could you

remind me... Your research project is?

"Animism in contemporary China."

This-this research project is...

Sorry, excuse me.

This...

This research project is-is really messing