And so it came to pass in this place called Manhattan
that there was a writer by the name of Jabez Stone.
He wasn't a bad writer and, God knows, he wasn't a great writer,
but when I met him, he was becoming a good writer.
"There's nothing worse than a gift gotten too soon, "
Johnnie thought, as he carefully tied the balloons to his bike.
And with each balloon, his resolve grew stronger.
If only he hadn't gotten the bike early, one day before his birthday.
If only he hadn't taken that shortcut over to Mary's.
Hey, nice bike.
If only he hadn't let her ride it.
If only she hadn't fallen.
Keep away from me!
"Nothing, not even a new bike,
"should stand in the way of love," he thought.
Then he heard the old Chevy coming up the road.
His father was home.
He would have to work fast.
Where's Johnnie?
Bob, Johnnie's outside. He is so upset.
He says he wants to run away from home and never come back.
He says he wants us to take back his new bike.
Wheeling the bike out behind the barn, he held his breath and said a little prayer,
"Please God, let the balloons be enough. "
Then Johnnie let go.
Johnnie?
Johnnie heard but didn't give a damn. He was just too...
No, wait. That doesn't work. Johnnie wouldn't say that.
Suddenly the sound of his father's voice jerked him back to reality.
What had he done?
How could he throw away the very thing
his mum and dad had worked so hard to give him?
"It's a confusing world," he thought as he ran back into the barn.
Johnnie?
Then Johnnie reached out, trying to grab on to the thing he both loved and hated,
and in reaching, Johnnie fell.
What happened, son?
And Johnnie told him everything.
How his heart was broken
because Mary said she never wanted to see him or that bike again,
and how, if he could only make the bike go away,
maybe things would go back to the way they were before
and he could be happy again.
Remember, son. There's never a shortcut to happiness.
High above their heads, over the barn, the Schwinn floated away.
And went to that sweet, sad place, where all things go
that are left behind by little boys on their way to becoming men.
- Hello? - Well, this is it, Bezzy boy,
the end of civilisation as we know it.
Hey, Julius. Jesus, what time is it?
Later than you think. Turn on Channel 4.
I've been up all night writing. It's been incredible.
Sue Simmons is about to interview
one of the most widely-read and beloved writers of our time,
- Carrot Top. - Well, look at the bright side.
At least people are buying books.
It's those damn chains. They run this business now.
I don't know.
Well, that's right. You don't know. How could you know?
You haven't been published. That's the whole trouble with you.
You don't know what things look like from the inside.
I sent my novel to Webster.
- Who at Webster? - Daniel Webster.
You mean the actual guy? Not the publishing house?
That's right.
Why not?
Julius, you wouldn't believe the night I've had.
Around 3:00 in the morning, it all started flowing...
He's on. I gotta go.
- Carrot Top, pleasure to meet you. - You, as well.
Better Red Than Dead: The Carrot Top Story.
- How long did it take you to write it? - A full month.
An entire month. Pretty much noon to 4:00 everyday
with my little tape recorder and myself, really.
Well, where do you like to write?
In odd places. Sometimes in the car, rollerblading,
maybe exercising on the bike at the gym. Really whenever the muse strikes.
That sounds like a tough way to go, Carrot Top.
Okay, Fred. I'm off to the salt mine.
Where the hell have you been? Bailey is on the warpath.
- Subway broke down. - Hold on. Now that is sweet.
Jesus, Rick, what is she, 12?
Oh, yeah. I'm gonna go find out.
You can take care of grandpa.
May I help you, miss?
Well, I certainly hope so.
May I help you, sir?
I need a tie for a very special occasion.
Would you believe it's my 50th high school reunion?
Well, let's find you a great tie, then.
They tore the old school down, so this year, we're having it at a restaurant.
How much is this tie? What does that say?
Are you gonna buy it?
- I'm not sure. How much is it? - It's $80.
$80 for a tie?
Can I ring it up for you?
Well, thank you for your time.
- That man was a customer. - A customer?
No, Mr Stone. That's a customer.
Hip, beautiful, with a wallet full of credit cards
and 50 good shopping years ahead of her.
Okay? That's a customer.
This tie costs, what? $60 with my discount?
- You're not serious. - I'm totally serious.
You know what? I'm sorry, Mr Stone,
because that discount is for current employees only.
- What do you mean? - Get out.
Keep the change.
Excuse me. I want you to have this.
No, no. Please, I insist.
- Thank you. - Yeah.
Sorry I'm late.
Look at you.
Waiter, can I have a clean glass, please?
- So? Sardi's? - I like Sardi's.
Hey, Mom told me you closed on a new house.
Yeah, it's just a little country place in the Hudson Valley.
I think it's probably got outdoor plumbing.
- For $1.2 million. - Can you believe that?
By the way, what's going on with their anniversary party?
Cruise. It's all handled.
Handled? I thought we were doing this together.
It's their 50th, Bez. It's gotta be perfect. Dewar's, rocks, soda.
Here's the plan. We say we're taking them to dinner in the city,
but instead, we end up at Pier 70A, where we hand them their first-class tickets,
and they're off on a four-star cruise around the world.
Great. So what's my part in this?
Well, I was thinking you could write a bon voyage poem.
A poem?
So let me ask you something. What is this costing you?
You don't wanna know. It's gotten way out of control.
- No, really, tell me. - Trust me. You don't wanna know.
It's insane. Anyway, I think this poem... $80,000.
I think this poem could have a Celtic theme.
- Are you insane? - I wanna do this for them.
Well, all right. But $80,000? I mean, that's very...
If you don't mind, I'd like to write you a cheque.
Bez, really. It's cool. I know you would if you could.
Please? Besides, I didn't wanna tell anybody this yet,
but it looks like a very big publisher here in town
is interested in my new novel, so let me do this. Please.
Okay. Fine.
Thank you.
How's $500 until I get my advance?
- Can I help you, sir? - I was going up to see my editor.
- Who is your editor? - Mr Webster.
I have a writer down here for Mr Webster.
- What's your name? - Stone.
Stone. Yeah.
Robert Stone?
That's the 40th floor, Mr Stone.
- Mr Webster? - Yeah?
Robert Stone is here.
Mr Webster, it's a pleasure meeting you.
My name is Jabez Stone, and I'm a writer. Shit.
Great to meet you, Mr Webster. I've written a book.
Hey, Bobby!
You're not Robert Stone.
Mr Webster, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Jabez Stone, and I am a writer.
So what do you want?
Just two minutes of your time.
I'll take it from here, Mr Webster.
All right, sir. Why don't you come with me?
Please? Just think of it as your good deed for the day.
You don't want to forget this.
That's my book in there. I'd like you to read it.
I think I have something important to say.
- Right this way, sir. - Hold on, Frank.
Two minutes, Mr Stone.
So?
What can I do for you?
I sent you a manuscript.
Do you have any idea how many submissions I receive in a year, Mr Stone?
Not that I finish many.
Typically, I read only until I am satisfied
the writer has nothing out of the ordinary to offer.
Sometimes this requires the perusal of the entire manuscript.
More often it takes only a few sentences.
I have something out of the ordinary.
- What would that be? - Novels like...
Yeah, I know. All about a man who wants to be a writer.
A man who is a writer.
- Has he ever been published? - No.
Then he should know better than to call himself a writer
anywhere but in the privacy of his own home.
See, there is a difference between wanting to be a writer and the writing itself.
The one thing is the reward. The other is the work.
I've done the work.
At 214 pages? Am I right?
So you have read it? I know it needs work, especially the ending.
My new book is coming more fluidly. In fact, it's pouring out of me.
Is that a tail? It looks like a whip. Is it real?
What makes you think I'd display a fake tail, Mr Stone?
- Where did you get it? - I won it.
If I'd been a second sharper, I'd have nabbed one of the ears, too.
- What sort of animal did it come off of? - Your two minutes are up, Mr Stone.
We haven't discussed my novel.
You see all these famous books? Decorations.
I've published perhaps five great books in my life. Maybe 50 good ones.
The rest I don't even remember.
We have other editors who have more enthusiasm for the job than I have.
Go home and write something, Mr Stone. Write something better.
So, security came.
With what? Stun guns?
"We got a 201. Desperate writer wielding unpublished manuscript."
Actually, Webster invited me into his office, and we had a nice little chat.
My God, there's Gay Talese. Gay?
- Who is that guy? - I don't know. Let's go.
I don't think he could see me.
So, Bez?
You made it into the sanctum sanctorum, the office of the legendary Daniel Webster.
- That's right. - Did he offer you a deal?
Well, no.
- Another meeting? - No.
What then, Bez? What did you get from him?
Well, he gave me some advice. He told me to go home and write.
To write something better.
You really are hopeless, my boy.
Hi! How are you? Look who's here!
- Heads up, everybody. - Oh, my God!
Phillipe, Phillipe! Come, come, come. Look who's here. The girls.
Connie, darling!
Hi. I'm coming to see you. Phillipe...
What in the hell was that? Since when do you know Constance Hurry?
If I may? A toast to Constance Hurry,
the editor who had the great and good sense to purchase not only Loss of Feeling
but the next three novels by yours truly, Julius Jensen.
Well.
- To Constance Hurry. - No, no. To Julius Jensen.
What's the advance? 20 grand?
Something more in the mid five-figure range?
$190,000 for the first novel.
Successive bumps for each one thereafter.
Well, that's quite a chunk of change.
Julius? So, how's my newest acquisition?
Couldn't be better! Champagne?
No, thank you. We're sitting down with Mike and Diane.
Actually, they want to meet you when you're done here.
I'll be right over.
See, Bez? That's the way it's done in this business.
Constance needed a great novel,
and there I was with Feeling of Loss.
Carpe diem, baby.
Joseph Conrad, he didn't even pick up a pen until he was 40.
Hold on. My brother cashed the cheque.
My brother cashed the cheque.
I don't even have enough money to buy dog food.
Yo, man, what you doing down here? Give me that, man!
No, no, no, please. Take anything you want, but not that.
- That's my book. - Shut up!
- Damn, man! - Come on. Mess him up.
Look at yourself.
You'd sell your soul to trade places with Julius Jensen.
Little did Jabez know that with those words,
he set in motion the forces of evil
that have laid in wait since the beginning of time itself.
Shit.
$190,000!
Fuck!
I can't do this any more!
Oh, my God! Somebody help me!
Oh, no. Please, no.
My wife!
Someone help! Please!
Who is... Who is it?
- Will you shut the hell up? - Please, someone, call an ambulance!
I'm sorry. I'm...
Can I help you?
The question is, can I help you?
Someone help me!
What's all that screaming outside?
Wait a minute. I remember you.
What a mess.
Is she moving? Please tell me she's moving.
You dropped a typewriter on her head. What do you think?
God.
- Maybe you should sit down. - Sit down? I've just killed somebody,
and I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in prison!
Fine, stand. It makes no difference to me.
So? I guess you feel pretty bad about what happened?
You could say that, yes. You know, I'm gonna call the police.
Kind of bad or really bad?
No, I'm gonna call my lawyer instead. No, I'm gonna call the police.
Oh, my God! They're already here!
Come on, sir. Step back.
I bet you'd do just about anything to make this all go away.
- There! - They're looking up at my apartment!
- Up there! - My God!
Please, Mr Stone. Your language.
You're a very unlucky man, Jabez Stone.
That's all this really is. Just a run of bad luck.
Mr Stone? Police Department. Open it.
- Shit, shit, shit! What am I gonna do? - We open the door, I guess.
- No, no, no. Don't do that. Don't do that. No. - Trust me.
No. No.
- You're Jabez Stone? - Do I look like Jabez Stone?
Mind if we come in, take a look around?
What's this about, Officer?
You wanna tell me how that window got broke?
What do you mean?
Maybe you have the wrong apartment, gentlemen.
Right.
Sorry to bother you, miss. Have a good night.
- I'm telling you, this is... - Come on.
You can come out now.
How the hell?
- Who are you? - Do you have anything to drink?
This is it?
I wasn't expecting company.
It's too bad about the typewriter and the laptop.
You'll need something to write on.
Also a bigger place. Something with a view?
A bed might be nice.
I don't know what you're talking about.
I'm talking about the reason you asked me over.
I didn't ask you over.
I seem to remember something about selling your soul
to change places with Julius Jensen.
Or do I have the wrong apartment?
Who are you?
I think you know.
Let me give you a little advice.
You're about to make a deal for your mortal soul for all eternity.
So, let's not blow it on season tickets to the Knicks.
Think carefully before you answer.
More than anything else on Earth, what do you want?
I want to write books that last.
I can't help you there. Books that last, that's a question of talent.
- I am talented. - Well, good! Good!
Then why don't we concentrate on books that sell?
The rest will take care of itself.
- You need an audience. - I see.
- What else? - Appreciation.
- What else? - Respect.
- Respect? - I want respect.
Whose respect? Your family, friends, strangers?
- Everyone. - So, no one's in particular. What else?
- I beg your pardon? - You'll feel so much better if you just say it.
Success! I want success!
That's it!
- You want to be a success. - Yes!
You want to be a success so you can write great books
and people will appreciate your talents. Isn't that right?
Yes.
Then you've come to the right person.
Or the right person has come to you.
Ten years. It's standard contract. Ten years and then I take what's mine.
Well, what happens after that? To me, I mean?
Look at it this way.
How much worse could it get?
- Are you in? - I'm sorry.
I just keep thinking about that poor woman lying out there dead in the street.
And what poor woman would that be, Mr Stone?
She's okay!
I'm fine.
- How did you... - See, Mr Stone?
Just say the word and all of your problems will disappear.
What do I have to do? Sign something?
You mean a contract? Like in blood?
- I've never done this before. - Of course you haven't.
Well, you know what they say, Mr Stone.
Carpe diem, baby.
So, how about it?
Are you in?
I'm in.
And there it was, the kiss. And what lies there are in kisses.
Don't touch that! I'm leaving.
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.
- May I ask you a question? - What?
Our agreement. When does it start?
Let me ask you a question.
When was the last time you found yourself in bed
with someone who looks like this?
Consider yourself on the clock.
- Hey. You Mr Stone? - Yes.
Sign here, please.
I...
Get yourself another wheel.
Dear Mr Stone, while cleaning out my desk
I came across your manuscript given to me many months ago by Mr Webster.
Although we sent you a rejection letter several weeks ago,
it seems I have made a grave error in judgement.
Taxi!
Are you famous?
No.
Yes. You are famous.
No, I'm not. Really.
You have that look that famous people have.
Mr Stone, so good to see you!
- Jabez Stone. - Please. Call me Bez.
- Hello, Bez. So nice to meet you. - Thank you.
Actually, I was with Julius Jensen last night. At Helene's.
Of course! Bez, this is Kee Young, our vice-president of publicity and promotions.
She's not overweight. She's pregnant.
I just talked to Newsweek.
We're looking at an up arrow in next week's issue.
- Tell Bez what I said, Kee. The three words? - "Not since Mailer."
So, Bez Stone, tell me about the man behind the words.
- Where did you grow up? - Long Island.
Semi-rural, in touch with nature, but still close to the city.
Jay Mclnerney meets Jay Gatsby.
Well, I'm from Bellmore, actually.
- College? - Haverford.
Okay. We like. Academically distinguished but not elitist.
- Favourite writers? - Kafka, I guess.
Dickens. Dostoyevsky.
- I read Crichton sometimes. - Good. We can work with that.
Entertainment Weekly is doing
a "What Book are you Taking to the Beach this Summer?" piece.
Maybe I can get them to talk to Bez.
I'm not really a beach person.
You've got heat right now, Bez. Let's not waste it.
- So, what about the book? - What about it?
I've already ordered a first printing of 100,000 copies.
Good God! That's great!
- But what did you think of it? - Of what?
The book. You didn't find it a bit bumpy?
Not at all. We wouldn't be printing it if we didn't love it.
Of course, there are a couple of things we need to discuss.
You were saying?
The hero seems a bit, I don't know, reflective, uncertain, if you will?
We've found that upmarket general fiction readers
don't like characters who harbour too many doubts.
No, I think his indecision is at the core of the story.
Really? I didn't see it that way.
We don't have to solve everything right now.
- No, but I would like to know... - It's your book, Bez.
We would never make you do anything you didn't agree with.
I'm just here to help.
I'll have you know that Irving Berlin wrote a little ditty called White Christmas
while living at this address.
I hear this building is impossible to get into.
That won't be a problem, Mr Stone.
I love it.
And I'm so glad you agreed with me about the changes.
- You do agree with me, don't you? - Yes.
I don't think I've ever read anything quite so exciting, so penetrating.
It's hard to believe it's really coming out.
Believe it, Bez.
It's going to be bigger than I ever imagined.
- Are you gonna get that? - I have no intention of getting that.
- It might be Paula Wagner. - Who?
Paula Wagner. She runs Tom Cruise's production company.
I e-mailed her the manuscript last night.
- You gave her this number? - Just in case. Pick it up.
Hello?
Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you very much. Great.
Well, yes, she is. She's right here. Hold on.
Paula. Well?
That's great. I'm so excited.
Right. Call me later.
What did she say?
Tom wants to option the book.
It's 5:00 a. m. Out there.
Did you hear me? They want to option our book.
That's amazing.
Rise and shine. We've just got time for a quick celebration,
and then you've got books to write.
Hello? Yeah.
Okay, okay. Yeah, bye. Bye.
So, your new book. It's very sexual. Is it autobiographical?
The nine muses.
It really would be a shame to separate them.
- I guess I'll have to take them all, then. - Of course.
Really. You know, I'm happy to read whatever you have.
Well, there's really no point, Mike. It's finished.
The manuscript has already gone to the typesetter. Times, please.
It's finished? Didn't you just start it last week?
It took a couple of months. Well, it basically wrote itself.
And it's good?
Well, they're going to ship 100,000 copies. Somebody must like it.
Have another cigarette, Mike.
Yeah. I think I will. It gives my cough more character.
Give me that.
Oh, my God. Is Jensen here with his wife?
Somebody must have died.
Hey, guys. What's the occasion?
There's a problem at Webster Books.
What kind of problem?
They're saying he borrowed passages of Feeling of Loss.
- How much? - Half the book.
Some German novelist nobody's ever heard of.
A Nazi!
They're accusing me of stealing from a frigging Nazi!
Well, maybe you read it a long time ago?
I'm Orthodox, for Christ's sake.
In school or something and you forgot where it came from.
How close was it?
- It's hard to say. - Word for word.
And the worst thing,
Constance said the best part of my book was the part I stole.
They want the advance back.
If it's a matter of money, Julius, I'm there for you.
Friends help each other, right?
Excuse me, Mr Stone?
I just wanted to say hello. I'm a big fan.
Thank you.
It just means that there's something better right around the corner, Julius.
I don't know how it happened.
You're too good not to survive this.
You're such a wonderful writer.
Thank you, but my book isn't even published yet.
I read the blurb in Publishers Weekly.
I don't know how it frigging happened.
I mean, they compared you to Hemingway.
Well, that's just an ad taken out by a publishing company.
You really ought to ease up on those, Julius.
My friends and I are sitting at this table right over here.
They don't speak any English. Well, stop by if you feel like it.
Don't look. Don't look. Okay. You can look.
- You changed the title. - We thought this was edgier.
This is Julius' title. You've just inverted it. Feeling of Loss. Loss of Feeling.
So? That book is dead.
Besides, there are no new ideas anyway.
I don't think that I feel very comfortable about this, Constance.
Live with it for 24 hours. If you still feel the same way...
Congratulations, Bez.
- Thank you. - Don't thank me.
You earned every bit of this.
Please don't say that too loud.
Not a bad party.
- Thank you, John. Have you read the book? - Of course I've read the book.
I'm probably the only person in this room who has.
And?
What can I say, Connie? You've done it again.
It's a total piece of shit.
Well, thank God no one reads critics any more.
They told me we're on this Sunday's bestseller list.
Are you happy?
Norman Mailer said he's got my book on his night table.
Any complaints?
Well, I do feel bad about what happened to Julius.
You know what they say.
In order for one to succeed, another must fail.
You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?
Well, I never asked you to sabotage him or harm him in any way.
Would you grow up? Please? You are such a baby, really.
It's no fun giving you everything you want if you're not going to enjoy it.
I just don't remember saying anything about Julius.
Is there a band? I feel like dancing.
Mr Stone?
- Man of the hour. You're quite a success. - Thank you.
It wasn't meant as a compliment.
- The great Daniel Webster. - The drunk Mr Hardy.
- Better drunk than a whore, I always say. - Better neither than both.
I take it you know Jabez Stone.
Mr Stone!
You should be ashamed of yourself.
Jabez Stone is a thief!
That man stole my book!
Julius?
- You stole my frigging book! - I never saw your book.
- You took the title! - It really doesn't mean the same thing.
Feeling of Loss. Loss of Feeling. What's the frigging difference?
Julius, you're drunk.
You know what they say.
In order for one to succeed, another must fail.
What in the hell was that all about?
What is the matter with you? What is the matter with you?
You know that Bez is your friend.
That's right, Mike. And friends help each other.
Tonight, Bez helped me. Taxi!
And so it was that the chariot of the Devil smote down Jensen.
You see, Jensen was a loose end,
and the Devil doesn't like loose ends, if you know what I mean.
In entertainment news, Jabez Stone continues to lead the pack
of best-selling authors in spite of a rash of bad reviews.
One critic writes, "Stone is to fiction what E. Coli is to ground round. "
Later, Jabez punched the critic out in front of a popular New York restaurant,
yelling, "Here! Eat this!"
Meanwhile, the Big Apple named bad boy Jabez
most eligible bachelor of the month.
So, what are you feeling?
Nothing.
That's the best.
And now this weekend's box office numbers.
In the first spot, The Falling Man.
Based on the novel by Jabez Stone,
the critics were brutal to this film adaptation,
but the audience didn't seem to care.
Falling Man annihilated the competition
with an impressive $33.2 million in its first three days.
Yeah, it looks like The Falling Man has something to stand up and cheer about.
I saw it over the weekend. Good movie.
- Thank you. - Constance Hurry.
Thank you.
- Hello? - I've been trying you all weekend.
- Where have you been? - Hiding.
Don't tell me you were bothered by the reviews.
They were even worse than for the book. I didn't think that was possible.
Please! I'm getting calls from everybody about your next book.
And the one after that. It doesn't get any better than this.
Come on, Bez.
When you walked into my office a few years ago,
did you ever imagine that you'd be complaining
because your smash hit number one movie got a couple of bad reviews?
A few years.
Your movie's a big fat success, Bez.
Enjoy it. I'll check in with you later.
- Happy birthday to you - Happy birthday to you
- Happy birthday, dear Bez - Happy birthday, dear Bez
- Happy birthday to you - Happy birthday to you
Thank you, honey.
We have to go, Bez. Someone's about to have a meltdown.
Is this your baby?
Not any more. She's just about to turn five.
How many is that, Gigi?
Five.
- Hello? - Hey, pal. Carpe diem, baby.
- Happy birthday, pal. - Well, well, well. Thank you.
We're down here at the High Life. You wanna come down?
I mean, you know, I thought maybe you were in the mood for slumming.
- Well, Mike, I'd love to, but... - I miss you. You know that?
I do. And besides, I got this thing. I was working on it for a while,
and I wanted to show it to you.
How about tomorrow? No. I've got to look at houses in the morning.
- How about Thursday? - No. Actually, tomorrow's the only day I got.
Okay. Well, I have this stupid photo shoot,
but why don't you come by the apartment around 5:00?
Have another cigarette, Mike.
Yeah. Yeah. I quit, you know that? I quit. About a couple of months ago.
- Is that the last time I saw you? - You're a busy man.
I'll catch you tomorrow, okay?
This kitchen has everything you could possibly imagine.
I believe the renovation was around 3.
It's on the market for 5.5, but I believe you can talk them down a little bit.
It's a divorce. End of a dream.
They'd like to sell it furnished.
Mr Stone?
Furnished. The owners would like to sell it furnished.
Wait! Wait!
So? What can the forces of evil do for you today, Jabez Stone?
- I need more time. - That's ridiculous.
I want it all to slow down.
There's so many other things I want to write. Important things.
The novel I was working on when I first met you.
I feel like I'm constantly feeding this machine of success,
and I don't like it.
What is it that you asked me for, Bez?
I told you I could give you anything you wanted in this world,
- and what did you want? - Well, that was...
Say it!
Success. And that is what you have.
Not some fantasy version, where you sit in a rocking chair
and smoke a pipe and write essays on the human condition.
So stop whining and get used to it.
Bez, I have Mike here to see you.
Mike? Shit.
We're just in the middle of this photo shoot.
I'm sorry. I thought that you said that...
No, no. Absolutely. It's my fault. Come in. Come in, come in.
You know Constance?
We're just doing this thing for Architectural Digest.
It shouldn't take very long. Sit. Sit, sit, sit.
So, how are you, Mike?
- How do I look? - Thin.
Yeah. Yeah. I guess you could say that.
We have to go, Bez. We need the sunlight.
I'll be right there. Things are a little bit crazy right now, Mike.
- What's your tomorrow look like? - Not so great.
- Bez. I... - Guess what?
I just talked to Michi Kakutani at The Times!
Oh, my God.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
It's okay. We're not shooting in this room anyway.
Could someone please bring us some paper towels?
I gotta go, Bez.
Are we doing this or what?
- You know, maybe this isn't a good time. - Isn't a good time?
- The sun is going down. - Shut up!
Bez, take it easy.
- Hey. I'll call you. - No, no, no.
You came here to tell me something important. So what is it?
What the hell do you want to tell me that is so important?
- Bez, I have to insist... - No, no. What is it?
Money?
Do you need money?
I'm gonna go.
Okay, let's do this. Where do you want me?
We lost the light.
And Jabez looked inside himself
and found that the light was gone.
So what are you reading these days?
Well, I stopped by to pick up a copy of U.S.A. by Dos Passos,
but they're not carrying it any more.
Hello?
- Molly? - Mike died this morning.
I tried to reach you earlier, but you weren't home.
I'll call you when we make the arrangements, okay?
Right. Thanks.
Mr Stone, Constance, a photo here?
Over here, sir.
- Congratulations. - Thank you.
Are you working on something now, Mr Stone?
Yes. Remembrance of a Loss of Feeling is the sequel to my first novel.
- Thank you. Have a good evening. - Yeah. Thank you.
Bobby! Bez, I'd like you to meet Robert Stone.
Well! What an honour.
I haven't seen a book like that for a long time.
I told you I didn't want this award. They resent me, and I don't blame them.
- Nonsense. They're just jealous. - Jealous of what?
And the winner of the International Literary Society Award for Fiction is...
Jabez Stone, A Certain Numbness of the Extremities.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Words cannot...
No words can express...
Excuse me.
My mind is somewhere else tonight.
I'm grieving the loss of my friend, Mike Weiss.
Not a name you would know. Mike was a writer.
Before I...
When I was younger, he was the first guy I'd show my stuff to.
Mike was a tough critic. He had a great bullshit detector.
But when he liked something, well, that was a good day.
Of course, in recent years, I stopped asking Mike for his opinion.
Not because he'd tell me my books were shit. I already knew that.
I just didn't want to hurt him.
You see, that's what bad writing did to Mike.
It caused him pain.
I'm so glad you're here.
I'm sorry I missed the funeral. I got tied up at some dinner.
You look expensive.
So, he gathers everybody in this tiny hospital room,
and he says he wants to read something out loud.
And I'm thinking, "Oh, my God! It's his will."
But no. Instead, he pulls out a copy of The Barnard Review of '79,
and he starts to recite Orgasm Profundus, which is my first published poem.
- Right. Your Anaïýïs Nin phase. - Yeah.
Man. I swear to God I said it was good that he was dying of cancer
or else I'd have to kill him.
I would love to have seen that.
Yeah.
We miss you.
So, what happened with you guys?
Mike didn't want to talk about it either.
I think he was just hoping you guys would still work it out.
I wanted to. Believe me.
But you don't know what my life is like right now.
Then tell me.
It's so complicated.
Every little piece of bullshit takes on this earth-shattering importance.
Everyone wants a piece of you.
And the people that you care about the most get pushed aside.
Like Mike.
He stopped by to see me a few weeks ago to tell me he was sick.
Really? I didn't know that.
He came to see me,
and I couldn't find five minutes to talk to him.
I mean, I offered him money but not my time.
You see, I don't have any to spare. It's so precious.
Does that make any sense to you?
I wish it did.
You know something, Molly?
I think I like the old me better.
Yeah.
Me, too.
I wanna talk to you!
I'd sell my soul for one lousy minute of self-respect.
Sorry, Bez. Only one soul to a customer.
I saw that!
- I saw that. - I should have set them on fire.
- So, you've been looking for me? - I want out.
- Out of what? - The deal. Everything.
I'll give back the apartment and the place on Long Island.
You're about to be nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.
You wanna give that up, too?
Yes.
And the money? What about the women?
How do you intend to return them?
I'm worthless like this.
I almost forgot. I have something for you.
A friend left you that. Remember? No one wanted to read it.
You wanna turn back the clock? Fine.
"Remember, son. There's never a shortcut to happiness. "
- Mr Webster. - Mr Stone.
I was wondering if I might have a word with you in private?
I doubt that very much.
- I need some advice. - Use fewer adjectives.
- Not that kind. Please? - Okay, this way.
It's a novel. Actually, it's half a novel. I'd like you to read it.
You hardly need my approval at this point in your career.
That's exactly what I need.
I want you to tell me if you think it's any good.
- Do you think it's any good? - Yes, I do.
Then that should be sufficient for you.
Besides, there are plenty of people who enjoy your books.
So, isn't that enough?
I wrote it a long time ago before anybody knew who I was.
Before I met her.
I've been wanting to ask you about the tail, the one in your office.
Is it hers?
It is hers, isn't it?
Yes, it's hers.
- You asked to be released? - Yes.
I bet she enjoyed that.
Let's take a walk.
Why do you want to end your agreement? You're wealthy, celebrated,
- people respect you. - They respect my success.
Doesn't that amount to the same thing these days?
No.
I've lost the love and friendship of the only people I've ever cared for.
I've lost myself.
Well, there's nothing more to lose, then, is there?
But there is a way, Mr Stone.
How?
What everyone else in this country does. Take her to court.
- You mean a trial? - I'll warn you now, Mr Stone. It'll be messy.
- You've done this before? - Yes. Many, many times.
This is a battle that's been waged for thousands of years.
Not always by me, of course. Although sometimes it feels that way.
- Do you think we could step inside? - No. She'll be here soon.
Yeah.
She wants to get even with me.
So?
You've decided to risk it?
He tells the truth, Your Highness.
Oh, yeah! He's a regular boy scout.
Do you think he's worth your time?
You make it worth my time, Mr Webster.
Tell me, do you miss your tail?
So? What did you ask for? Be precise.
Success.
- Because that's what you lacked? - Yes.
You already had happiness?
I just wasn't happy enough. I thought success would make me happier.
That's a common mistake.
So, for a big helping of success you signed over your immortal soul?
I didn't know its true value.
Buying it below the market rate. Yeah, she's an arbitrageur.
It's very late, Mr Stone. I suggest you go home and rest.
- I'm scared. - Yeah, so am I.
One other question, Mr Stone.
Since the time of your agreement,
what was the most satisfying thing that happened to you?
I don't understand.
What was the one moment that nearly made it all worthwhile?
Nothing.
Nothing made it all worthwhile.
Thank you, Mr Stone.
- Hello? - Are you ready, Mr Stone?
- Yes. - Good. We have a date.
- When? - One hour.
- Where are we going? - Be patient, Mr Stone.
- Can I ask you something? - Of course.
I know what happens to me if we lose, but what happens to you?
Simple. She gets something she's wanted for a very long time.
Don't tell me. She gets you, your soul.
Forever.
Very perceptive, Mr Stone.
I was afraid you were gonna say that.
- Garden City? - Yeah.
These things are always settled in the Garden, aren't they?
Good luck, Bez!
What the hell?
We're rooting for you, Bez.
What's going on here?
- Is that the... - It's the jury.
The matter must be settled by daybreak.
It's worse than I thought.
I recognise some of those people. That's...
That's Truman Capote and Jacqueline Susann.
My God, that's Ernest Hemingway.
Oscar Wilde.
Mario Puzo.
Jabez Stone v. The Other World.
- Julius? - Friends help each other, Bez.
Is Counsel ready?
Counsel for Mr Stone is ready, Your Honour.
And Counsel for the Other World?
Counsel for the Other World is ready, Your Honour.
Opening statements. Mr Webster?
Your Honour, members of the jury,
I don't propose to solicit your mercy.
I intend to show that Mr Stone entered into this contract
only after a series of devastating events which clouded his judgement.
In a single day, he lost his job, was beaten and robbed,
and accidentally caused the death of another human being.
And then she came along,
promising to deliver him from all these woes.
Now who among us would have the strength to refuse such an offer?
And so an otherwise good and sweet-tempered man
was manipulated into making a frightful mistake.
In other words, ladies and gentlemen, Jabez Stone was had.
Thank you, Your Honour.
Your Honour, what we have here is a simple case of contract law.
A standard contract for Mr Stone's soul was offered and accepted.
No misunderstandings. No sleight of hand.
Mr Stone accepted the terms
and now, having enjoyed the pretzel, does not want to pay the vendor.
Very well, then.
Mr Webster, you may call your first witness. Make it quick.
Plaintiff calls Michael Weiss.
Mr Weiss?
How would you describe your relationship with Mr Stone?
Bez and I were friends.
- For how long? - I don't know, about 12 or 13 years.
- Pre-dating his celebrity? - Yes.
And during those years before Mr Stone became famous,
did beautiful women make themselves available to him on a regular basis?
- I'm sorry? - Was Mr Stone getting any?
- No. - And were you familiar
with Mr Stone's writing during this period?
Sure. I used to read everything that Bez wrote.
- Was any of it published? - Well, some of it should have been.
- It was certainly good enough. - Please answer the question.
Was anyone interested in publishing Mr Stone's work?
No.
And how would you characterise Mr Stone's financial situation during this period?
Well, I would have to say that Bez was pretty poor.
So during the period before he became famous,
Mr Stone was poor, unpublished, and unpopular with women? Is that correct?
Was he happy?
As far as I could tell.
- Happier than after he became a success? - Absolutely.
And his writing? Was his writing better after he became famous?
It never even came close.
So, if Mr Stone exchanged his soul
in order to write great books and thereby gain happiness,
would you say he received what was promised him?
No, I wouldn't. I would say he was cheated. There's no doubt about that.
Thank you. No more questions.
You said you knew Mr Stone for several years
before he attained fame and success.
That's right.
During the same period, you were also friends with Julius Jensen?
Yeah, sure. But not in the same way.
Three struggling writers in the big city all hoping for that one big break.
No. Julius had already made it.
I mean, he'd written a novel. Had a deal for another one.
Well, actually, the deal called for three books.
Objection, Your Honour! It is entirely improper
for you to inject yourself into the cross examination of a witness.
I see. Well then, sustained.
Is it possible, do you think, that Mr Stone was jealous of Mr Jensen's success?
No. Not jealous.
You don't suppose Mr Jensen's accident
- could have been part of the agreement? - Objection!
Or that the charges of plagiarism
- which ruined this man's career... - Your Honour, I object!
Or his horrible death could have been part of the price for Mr Stone's success?
You son of a bitch!
I swear! You weren't part of it.
- Your Honour, this line of questioning is... - Overruled!
Continue.
Now. You yourself are recently deceased. Cancer, am I right?
Yeah.
And what did you do when you found out you had this illness?
There was nothing to do.
- Did you share the news with anyone? - No. Not for a very long time.
And then, eventually, I told Bez.
And what did Mr Stone say when you told him of your illness?
Well...
Yes?
He... He asked me if I wanted some money.
- I'm sorry? - Say it louder, Mike, so everyone can hear.
He offered me some money.
I see.
So that was the best Jabez Stone could do for you in your moment of need?
He was having a bad day.
And this is the man whose soul is supposed to be worth saving?
No more questions, Your Honour.
The witness may step down.
All right, is there anything else before we wrap this up, Mr Webster?
Your Honour, Counsel calls...
Excuse me, Your Honour. May I say a few words first?
Certainly.
I must admit, I have looked forward to this moment for a very long time,
the demise of the great Daniel Webster.
My distinguished opponent and I have faced each other many times over the years.
But not like this.
Not for something as inconsequential as Jabez Stone's soul.
- I'm not following you. - It's very simple, Your Honour.
If Mr Webster agrees to withdraw as plaintiff's counsel,
I'll simply take what belongs to me,
and my esteemed adversary can live to fight another day.
A typical distraction, Your Honour.
- We accept the offer. - Sit down, Mr Stone.
Please listen to me. She's right. I'm not worth saving.
Listen to him, Mr Webster.
I was wrong to pull you into the middle of this.
Well put, Mr Stone.
Please, accept this. If not for yourself, then for me.
We're waiting, Mr Webster.
Counsel calls Jabez Stone.
Tell me, Mr Stone. Do you love anyone? Besides yourself, of course.
- I'm sorry? - It's a simple question.
Is there a woman in your life, for example? Someone you love who loves you in return.
- No. - What about your family?
Well, of course I love them.
- When did you last see your parents? - I don't know, six months ago.
- Your brother? - The same.
- How far away does he live? - Ten blocks, but I've been so busy...
This person you claim to love is one or two minutes away by taxi,
and still you can't find the time to see him?
What about friends?
Well, I have a lot of people who work for me, but no real friends.
Especially now that Mike...
Yes, we've seen how warmly you expressed your love for him.
So, would it be safe to say that you have no real love in your life?
Yes.
And would you consider that a successful existence?
No.
I'm a complete failure.
No further questions. Thank you.
"I made the deal and now it's time to pay the price."
- Am I quoting you accurately, Mr Stone? - Yes.
"I'm not worth saving." Did I get that one right?
- Yes. - And you did testify
that you haven't loved anyone but yourself for a long time.
Is that right?
Yes.
Thank you. No further questions.
The witness may step down.
Closing arguments.
Your Honour,
members of the jury,
people come to me because what God has given them isn't enough.
They want more. They want more than what God gives.
They want what I can give.
God is stingy with creation.
Look around you.
God could have created any world he wanted.
He could have created a world without conflict,
without pain, without death,
and what did he create?
Of all the realities available, what did he give us?
This one.
This petty, cramped, needy world.
No, Your Honour.
I don't need to misrepresent my product.
Damnation's a surprisingly easy thing to sell.
Mr Stone wanted success,
and I gave him what he wanted.
All right. Mr Webster?
Yeah.
Your Honour, members of the jury,
here is a man driven or pushed by his dreams.
And being blocked at every door or window of opportunity, if you will,
in desperation, he tried one other.
Ironically, the thing he wanted most in life, to be a good writer,
may finally have been within his grasp.
And then a creature appeared,
this creature appeared, and clouded his judgement.
She offered him celebrity and money and women,
women as beautiful as herself.
Who gave this creature that kind of power?
Well, certainly not God. He banished her!
She has no power by nature. No.
The sad truth is that all of her strength comes from us.
Why do you think she works so tirelessly gathering as many human souls as she can?
Simply because it's the one thing she doesn't have.
Free will.
My opponent says that Mr Stone came to her because what he had was not enough,
that he wanted more.
More what? More money? More sex? More power? More control?
That's what she'd have you believe.
But when Mr Stone came to her,
or rather when she came to Mr Stone, what my client really wanted was readers.
He wanted people to read what he wrote. He's a writer.
That's what writers want. An audience. An audience for his words, for his vision.
For his truth, if you will.
That's all any of us want, isn't it?
A chance to tell others what we feel, what we believe.
What reality looks like to us.
That's what I want. That's what she wants. That's what you wanted.
That's what my client wanted.
And what did he get? What did he get?
What did she give him in exchange for his immortal soul?
Yeah, she gave him fame. She gave him power. She gave him money.
Yeah, she gave him readers. An audience. But an audience for what?
See, without his soul, what did he have to say?
Without his soul, what did it matter that he finally had an audience?
Without his soul, all the readers in the world didn't matter
because without his soul, Jabez Stone couldn't write!
Certainly not anything that mattered.
Certainly not the truth.
Yes, God could have created any reality he wanted,
but he created this one. Birth, pain, conflict and death.
Pain reminds us to avoid that which hurts us.
Conflict challenges us to be better than we think we are. And death?
Well, death...
Death gives us the chance to sum up all the good we've done
or left undone in life.
Yeah. It is a painful world.
And that's why, when someone like Jabez Stone comes along,
someone who can look at that pain and describe it truthfully and simply,
and give it a shape so that we can understand it,
when someone like that comes along, a visionary,
whether a religious leader or a statesman or a saint
or just an ordinary person with a good heart and common sense,
when someone like Jabez Stone comes along, we need to fight for him.
Not for his sake, but for ours.
"Johnnie, his eyes now filled with tears,
"turned and looked up into his father's kind face.
"His father put his hands on Johnnie's shoulder and said,
"'Remember, son. There's never a shortcut to happiness. "'
Tonight you have a chance to send her a message.
- Seize it. - Objection!
Tell her that enough is finally and at long last enough.
Objection! This is beyond the scope of the trial!
Tell her there is never a shortcut to happiness.
Please, Your Honour!
You know that! You of all people know that!
Sit down.
It's good to be reminded of it, isn't it?
It's good to have someone around to remind us.
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
Your Honour, before the jury deliberates, I'd like to say a few words in rebuttal.
I think you're too late.
It's four minutes to sunrise. Do we have a verdict?
All rise.
The jury finds for the plaintiff. The terms of the contract are null and void.
I believe it's time, Mr Stone.
High above their heads, the Schwinn floated away
and went to that sweet, sad place, where all things go
that are left behind by little boys on their way to becoming men.
Hello?
Hey, Julius. Jesus, what time is it?