(theme music playing)
NARRATOR: Man lives in the sunlit world
of what he believes to be reality.
But... there is,
unseen by most, an underworld.
A place that is just as real
but not as brightly lit.
A dark side.
(typewriter keys clacking)
(distant car horn honks)
Well, here goes.
(radio playing lively music)
¶ Without your love ¶
¶ You're such a lonely guy ¶
¶ I try to rise above... ¶
(musical interlude)
RADIO DJ (voice echoing): WLTV rocks.
MAN (on radio): Say, has a friend ever complimented you
on a letter you've written?
Has anyone at work ever praised a report you've turned in?
I'm Alex Kellaway, and I'm here to tell you
that if you can write your own name,
I can make you a success in the publishing game.
Life's short, friends.
Why should other no-talents get all the breaks?
You could be that diamond in the rough,
that sow's ear just waiting
to be transformed into a silk purse.
Call for an appointment right now.
212-555-8010.
Remember, if you don't make that call,
the only one who suffers is you.
(station ID tune playing)
DJ (voice echoing): WLTV. Rock all day. Rock all night.
Rock all the time.
Hey, here's the new one from Justine Bancroft.
(pop-rock intro plays)
(turning off radio)
So, anybody can write, huh? Well, it may be so.
But something good?
Something important?
(dogs barking outside)
Tonight, we get to eat.
Steak, shrimp and artichokes. Tonight we get to eat.
Junk, junk. Gas bill.
Electric bill. Junk.
Telephone disconnection. Junk.
He promised. (dialing)
(line ringing)
WOMAN (on phone): Mr. Guilford's office.
Put him on.
May I say who's calling?
You know who this is, Mrs. Garcia. It's Junior Harmon.
Now, put him on the phone.
MRS. GARCIA: I'm sorry. Mr. Guilford's stepped away from his desk.
May I take a message?
I know he's there! He owes me money, damn it!
Now, look, Mrs. Garcia, I haven't eaten in three days.
My rent's overdue and they're about to disconnect my phone.
That slob of an editor promised me a check for that assignment
over two weeks ago.
Now, you go get him and put him on the phone!
MRS. GARCIA: There's no need to be insulting.
Yeah? Well, you just tell my stomach that.
Now, you go get that greasy hack,
and you put him on the phone right now!
Do you understand me? (line disconnecting)
Hey. Hello? Hello!
(dial tone droning)
(slams down phone)
(groans loudly)
(phone rings)
MRS. GARCIA (over intercom): Miss Hardcastle,
it's that Junior Harmon again.
Shall I get rid of him?
No. I'll do this one.
Yes?
Miss Hardcastle? This is JP Harmon.
I met you a few weeks ago at that 50s poster art exhibit.
The opening at the Museum of Pataphysics.
I'm a victim of many openings, Mr. Harmon.
I-I told you about my new novel, Into the Void,
and you seemed very, very interested.
I wanted to bring over the first few chapters.
Mr. Harmon, I'm swamped with work at present,
but if you'll have your agent call, perhaps we can...
Miss Hardcastle, I can't get an agent. I can't get an agent
till I get a publisher
and I can't get a publisher until I get an agent.
We can only accept submissions from legitimate representatives.
I'm sure you can appreciate our policy.
(line disconnects, dial tone drones)
(hanging up phone)
RADIO DJ: WLTV.
ALEX: Tired of all the rejection?
Tired of know-it-alls who can't appreciate your talent?
Well, I'm Alex Kellaway, and I'm here to tell you
that you don't even need talent
to make it in the publishing game.
I'm talking to you, you know.
If you can spell the word M-O-N-E-Y,
you could be the one I'm looking for.
Come on down to my office,
and we'll check out the future together.
You've got nothing to lose.
(radio playing instrumental rock)
See you in an hour with the filet.
See you in an hour, Julio.
Okay.
You're next.
Button it, pal.
You can thank me later.
MAN: I can't find the soap! First the water
is hot, and then it's cold. I used to enjoy
taking a bath.
Rosie, when are those damn plumbers coming again?
They just enlarged that bathtub last week.
Mr. K, this is JP Harmon.
You can call me Junior, sir.
Junior? (chuckles) Good.
Good hook for a dust jacket.
You want to be a writer, Junior Harmon?
I am a writer.
You want something to eat, Junior?
No, thanks.
Well, you've got to eat, my boy.
Hunger inspiring art is just a myth
created for the no-talent hacks
to ease the pain of mediocrity.
Um, Mr. Kellaway, I brought you the first few chapters
of my new novel, Into the Void.
It's about a young man's descent
into the hells of his greatest passions:
an incestuous relationship with his sister,
the abandonment of his alcoholic father,
and the murder of his best friend.
A western?
A what?
It just happens, I need a western this week.
Look, Mr. Kellaway, I'm a serious writer.
What I write comes from right here.
Well, I'll bet. Better you should write from here.
Sit down.
Let's see if you've got the goods.
Ah.
I want you to take this (electrical buzzing)
in both hands, like this.
What the hell is this?
This measures your S-rating.
Well, what about the talent? What about the writing?
Ah, well, now, talent is fine.
If you have a little, then your ego will profit.
Otherwise, only your bank account will.
(slurping)
(bell rings) Well,
not bad at all.
150,000 plus. First year.
You mean that thing told you
that I was going to make $150,000?
120. I get 20%.
But...
Would you like some bubbly?
No, no, no. Thanks.
Ah, jeez! Oh! Oh, I'm terribly sorry.
You know, I really am. Here.
Let's get this to the cleaner.
It's the least we can do, my boy.
Mr. Kellaway, about my novel...
Harmon, my boy...
have you ever wondered how all those bestsellers get published?
Did you ever think it was talent?
Or art had anything to do with it?
No.
Magic.
What?
Magic!
Pure and simple.
(chuckling)
Oh, that's right, my boy.
That's right.
Oh, I'm not the only one practicing it.
All the good agents do,
to one degree or another.
But it just happens that I am very good at what I do.
(chuckling)
Very good.
I just can't believe that I'm listening to this.
Well, I'll prove it to you.
Anybody owe you money?
Yeah. Harold Guilford.
Mercenaries of fortune.
I know that scum well.
(pressing intercom button)
Rosie?
Get me Harry Guilford.
HARRY (on phone): Hello, Alex, how are you?
I was great, Harry, you sniveling cheat,
until one of my new clients told me
that you still owe him some money!
Oh, really? There must be some mistake.
(inaudible) You know I always
(whispering): Twelve hundred. pay my writers, Alex.
Even though some of these guys...
Harry, Harry, I've heard it all before.
A Junior Harmon here tells me that you still owe him
fifteen hundred bucks for a trashy article
that you had him write a while back.
How about it?
I've got integrity, Alex.
I always pay, even if it's for junk.
This business isn't what it used to be.
The stuff I'm forced to publish,
it's a wonder I can put food on the table.
My daughter needs braces.
Can you believe 5,000 bucks?
I knew this would come in handy again.
I've got to put out trash to pay for it, and the wife,
the baby seal coat I got her last winter
is no good this year.
She's got to have a new one.
I mean, she spends more time on Fifth Avenue
than she does at home.
The only way I know I'm married...
Got a safety pin?
No.
The writers, they all think they're Hemingway
for Christ's sake.
One guy tried to hold me up for $500.
(Harry screaming)
What's the matter, Harold?
You sound like you're in pain.
It's these damn ulcers.
I got ulcers from... (yelling)
Yes, well, tough times don't last, so they say.
But I would suggest that you get a check
over here to the office this afternoon, Harry.
We wouldn't want to add migraines
to those ulcers, now, would we?
(Harry screaming)
A rather crude demonstration, I must admit.
But you can rest assured
that check will be in my office by 5:00 p.m.
Now, let's get back to that western I need.
You're, uh, 35, born in New York,
an only child and never married.
How did you know that?
Animal... sacrifice.
Huh?
The good book says here
that animal sacrifice is the most appropriate method
for a writer of your characteristics.
The last writer to use that won a Pulitzer.
Animal sacrifice?
Now, this is what I call
exquisite taste.
Yeah, it is,
isn't it?
An animal lover!
(gasps)
You never told me you loved animals.
Yeah, well, um,
I can't help it.
I just knew you were a sensitive man.
Ever since I read Long in the Saddle,
I just knew it.
(phone ringing)
Yeah?
ALEX (on phone): Junior, my boy!
Hello, Alex.
So, how is she?
What?
That editor, uh, Miss, uh, Hardcastle.
How is she?
How did you know?
You don't think she liked Long in the Saddle
by accident, do you?
I goosed the spell a little while I was at it, though.
Didn't think you'd mind.
The combination of Siamese cat and Brazilian parrot
has wonderfully erotic side effects.
As I hope you're discovering.
Alex, it's 2:00 in the morning.
Good news, my boy,
I just sold the movie rights to this director for $100,000.
Plus five percent.
100,000?
I can't believe it.
I'm gonna need a spy thriller post haste.
Set it in the Middle East.
And get me several steaming women.
Anything, it doesn't matter.
Oh, one thing, though.
You're gonna need a goat for this one.
Rosie will bring one by tomorrow.
(howling)
BRENDA: Oh, no! I don't believe it!
He ate my best silk nightgown. JUNIOR: Shh!
The one you loved so much.
(bleating)
You're history, pal.
Lamb chops and mutton stew.
Memory in the pit of my stomach!
No! No, no, no, Brenda, no.
Brenda, I promise you,
he'll be gone by tomorrow.
Junior, (bleating)
I mean it this time.
We have lived together for over a year now.
And I love you.
But we live in a zoo!
A Godforsaken zoo!
Okay, okay, I know it's hard to share my affections with others,
but they're my inspiration.
I've had it.
Brenda...
They help me with my writing.
You love my writing, don't you?
(sneezing violently)
Bless you!
That's it. Brenda!
Junior, that's it!
You have a choice.
You can have me or you can have your dogs,
your cats, your myna birds and your sheep!
That's it!
(doorbell ringing)
Hey, good-looking.
(growling)
Thought it was supposed to be a lamb.
It's time to move on
to bigger and better things, my boy.
The good book says larger mammals next.
No, Alex.
I have had it.
I've turned my home into a menagerie for you,
just so that in a moment's notice,
I can be ready for any one of your crazy schemes.
You know, I feel like Lady MacBeth.
No matter how hard I rub, I can't get the blood off.
Say, is everything all right with you and Brenda?
You leave her out of this!
Junior, you have got to kill that bear.
We're looking at a seven-figure advance.
Presold movie rights!
No, Alex.
Enough is enough!
No more westerns, no more romantic dribble.
No more chasing around the Caribbean with revolutionaries
and oversexed women.
What are you gonna do instead, my boy?
Earn a little self-respect.
(chuckling)
You can't eat self-respect, Junior.
(chuckles)
Well?
Bring me that tie you got off Junior Harmon.
Hi.
What did you get?
(typing)
Five hundred.
Five hundred?
Only five hundred?
I paid $3,000 for that stereo system.
It was the best I could get, darling.
It's not even enough
to pay the damn rent.
I brought us home a nice supper.
I can't even place a lousy 300-word short story.
All my stuff comes back unread.
Look, we've both just had a streak of bad luck.
That's all.
Things will get better.
They have to.
Yeah...
Do you know that I haven't even been invited
to an opening in three months?
(groaning)
How are your headaches?
(sighs)
This will be the last time I mention it.
But why don't you give Alex Kellaway a call?
Junior, my boy, Rosie said it was you.
Alex, I... I know it's been a long time.
Say, uh, I heard Brenda lost her job.
Oh, bad luck, my boy.
She never should've published that collection of your poetry.
Nobody reads that idiocy except the author.
I know this is gonna sound strange but...
Do you happen to need a good action adventure?
No, not really.
What about a romance set in the South Seas?
(squeaking) Junior, I've been thinking about you these past few months.
I have a feeling that, uh, Into the Void
just might fly.
Alex, are you serious?
JUNIOR: Yes, yes.
S-Sure I can.
Alex, I have no problem with going on the road.
None at all. Of course I'll promote it.
JUNIOR: I mean, you just hand me a ticket
and I'll go on the road for a year if you want.
Alex, this is no bull, right?
JUNIOR: Yes, Alex, anything.
Another sacrifice?
(chuckling)
He's all yours now! (squeaking)
BRENDA: Is he going to help?
Yes.
But I just have to do
one little thing for him first.
NARRATOR: The dark side is always there.
Waiting for us to enter.
Waiting to enter us.
Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight.