Loud heavy rock music is blaring out of a Hi Fi system in a darkly lit room. All around, the place is decorated as an outlandish heavy metal shrine; a gargoyle figurine sits in the corner. The scene pans across the room to a table with empty bottles of alcohol and coke cans, where two teenage boys, seated on a sofa and dressed in jeans, studded leather wrist bands and identical slashed T-shirts are preparing for something. On the table in front of them is a brochure for a Nathan Stone concert and the remnants of a drug session: Razor blades, Cocaine etc. They each pick up a skull and dagger earring and put them on. The music’s lyric’s are chanting ‘Do it!’, repeatedly. The boys stand in unison and face each other, steeling themselves, then clasp hands for moral support, before standing on the table where they face two rope nooses. They move forward towards them.
Don't do it lads! I know it's bad, but there are
easier ways of getting out of watching this episode!
It’s night and the same music is pounding out of a car stereo, as a young, fair-haired man is driving a red sports car at great speed. On his arm is the same skull and dagger design of the previously seen boys, this time as a tattoo; and he’s wearing the same slashed T-shirts they were as well. As he’s driving, he becomes aware of a police car following him, siren and lights flashing and signalling to him to pull over. “Man... welcome to redneck city!” he sighs frustratedly as he brings the car to a stop. Behind him, the police car also stops and the officer gets out, torch in hand, and approaches him cautiously. By the time he’s reached the sports car, the music’s stopped, and the young man is leaning back in his seat in a laid back ‘couldn’t-care-less’ manner as he waits for the policeman (an as yet unnamed Nestor Parkins) to get there. “What seems to be the problem, officer?” he says casually. “May I see your drivers’ licence, please?” Shining the torch down into the driver’s face, the officer replies in a cold manner, his deep southern accent contrasting with the driver’s laid back California one. “Could you hurry up... I’m in a hurry,” he tells the cop arrogantly as he hands him the licence. “Well no kidding,” the officer replies as he peruses it, “... I clocked you doing 75 miles, Mr...” he briefly checks the license again, “... Stone.” “The name’s Nathan. You probably heard of me,” Stone replies. The cop just looks bemused as he glances back at Stone and begins to write something. “Nathan Stone... the singer. You know, rock and roll?” Nathan sounds off about who he is to the cop. It seems to fall on deaf ears because if he’s recognised, the man doesn’t show it. He just gives Nathan another bemused little look. Leaning back in his seat, Nathan gives a huge sigh, “You ever hear of rock and roll way out here, Barney?” he comments sarcastically. The cop shows no anger whatsoever. Instead, he just give Nathan a huge grin; “Oh, I believe I have. I also believe that I’ve heard of barber shops... have you?” he replies, returning the sarcasm. “No,” Nathan says, continuing their interplay, “... but when I need some grooming tips, I’ll be sure to look ya up...” he says, not sounding the least bit concerned as the cop continues to stare down at him, shining the torch in his face; “Can I have my ticket now!?” he sneers, and the cop gives a broad smile; “Oh.. it gonna be mah pleasure,” he starts to write out a ticket on a clipboard he’s carrying; “... You see, erm, I prefer country music,” the cop tells him, and Nathan slouches casually; “What a surprise!” he utters condescendingly.
"Ah'm gonna have to book you, boy! There's a law in this
town says nobody can have more hair than Dr. Arcane!"
The cop pauses in writing the ticket and gives Nathan a furtive little glance; “There’s a real possibility that I might not have to sign this here citation,”
he tells him. Nathan seems to have been expecting this; “How possible?” he says disinterestedly, and the cop smiles; “Well...” he shines the torch on
Nathan, “... that all depends on you.” Nathan gives a cynical little smile as the cop shines his torch along his car; “... this sure is a fancy car you got
here, mister rock star...” he smiles broadly at Nathan, who casually reaches for some money and waves it at the cop; “Perhaps, er, fifty bucks
would... help you get a little closer to owning one yourself?” the cop laughs; “hundred and fifty has a much better ring to it,” he says smugly; and
Nathan reaches into his pocket and takes another couple of bills to add to the first, which he hands to the cop. “Thank you,” the cop says
cheerfully, accepting the bribe and handing back Nathan’s licence; “... y’all have a good night,” he says to him, as the singer starts the car up and
speeds off abruptly, leaving the cop returning to his car, happy and satisfied.
It’s the next day, and a middle aged man (as yet an unnamed Larry Kefler) is sitting on the front steps of the Langford house, drinking a bottle of
beer and looking at his watch. He looks up and sees Nathan’s sports car arriving. Larry immediately gets up as the car stops, picks up a second
bottle of beer, and approaches the car; “Hey, Nathan! Didn’t have any trouble finding the place, I see,” he greets him jovially as the singer gets out
of the car with a dour expression on his face. “You kiddin’ me! My butt’s so sore I’ll have to sleep standing up!” he quips angrily as he takes the
beer from Larry; “... couldn’t you have found a place a *little* closer to civilisation!?” he looks at the house as he parks himself down on the front
of the car. “Well you told me you wanted total isolation, didn’t you?” Larry smiles at him. He seems to have a pleasant, fatherly air to him. “Wh.. I
guess I got it,” Nathan sneers, then looks at the house again and seems to lighten up; “... Place ain’t too bad. How come the owner’s renting it out?”
“Well, I guess they needed the money,” Larry replies, looking at the house, then back at Nathan; “... boat rental business must be a little slow.”
"You're my agent, man! What d'ya mean this
was the best you could get me!? You said
you'd fix me up on 'Days of our Lives' !"
Nathan gives a frustrated sigh; “Look... they’re not gonna be in my face the whole time I’m here, right?” “No,” he’s reassured, “... no. Mrs. Kipp is
out of the country; her stepson is staying with some friends in town. Anything you need... number’s in the kitchen.” “What I need is for him to keep
the hell away from me!” Nathan states firmly, getting up and walking past Larry towards the house.
“Listen, Nathan...” as the singer walks past, Larry seems to pluck up courage to say something to him; “... I really hate to start your vacation with..
this...” he looks downwards as Nathan stops and faces him; “... but there’s no avoiding it. You’re gonna be served,” he comes to the point, and
Nathan continues to regard him with silent irritation; “... it seems that, two teenage kids in Michigan, went and committed suicide, and the parents
are blaming you.” he says worriedly. “Blame me for what!?” Nathan asks incredulously. “Well they claim that your lyrics, encouraged them to go
and... and hang themselves,” Larry admits, and Nathan stares, aghast at this revelation; “Ah... what a crock!!” he sneers derisively, taking a swig of
beer from the bottle. “Yeah, well nevertheless, you’re still gonna have to make an appearance in court.” Larry tells him. “No way, man!” Nathan
turns to him angrily; “Hello, can I help it if a couple of losers took the easy way out!?” “They were listening to one of your tapes when they did it,
Nathan,” Larry sighs. “So??” is the singer’s reply, “... they had good taste in music!” he says contemptuously, before turning away to go onto the
porch. “No, no... it was more than that, Nathan!...” the man follows him, arguing plaintively; “... obviously, those boys... they worshipped you. They
were even wearing the same skull and dagger earrings -- just like yours -- when they died!” he says emphatically, climbing the porch steps to face
Nathan. “You gotta get me out of this,” Nathan tells him, sounding worried. Larry shrugs; “Well, there’s nothing I can do, I’m sorry.” “HEY!”
Nathan shouts at him, moving close; “I DON’T WANNA HERE THAT CRAP FROM YOU...” he grabs Larry roughly by the shoulders, ranting.
Larry gasps in pain, protesting at being hurt, but Nathan’s livid; “... for fifteen percent of every single dime I bring down, you *damn* *well* better
do something!!” the manager continues to just gasp that he’s being hurt. “Oh, it’s gonna hurt a hell of a lot more if you don’t come through for me,
pal!” “But I...” Larry tries to protest again, staring into Nathan’s eyes and struggling vainly in his grasp. “You got a hearing loss, booby??” Nathan
says callously; “... I just gave you an order... now you know most of my fans are a wasted bunch of idiots! Most of them can’t even hold down a
job at McDonalds, let alone understand art!...” the manager’s looking defeated; “... so, if I *ever* even hear about this again, I’m not just gonna fire
your ass, I’m gonna kick it halfway across the country!” Looking drained and ill, Larry resignedly tries to placate Nathan; “Look, I’ll, er, I’ll get in
touch with the label. Maybe they can do something,” he suggests, and Nathan’s instantly happy, letting go of him; “Now you’re talking!” Nathan’s
tone becomes optimistic, “... so what are you standing around for?” he changes his attitude quickly, patronising the man; “... why don’t you go out
and earn your commission for a change!?” With a last, troubled look at Nathan, Larry hurries away, and the singer watches him go, before anger
gets the better of him again, and he flings the empty beer bottle away in frustration. It lands on the ground, by the undergrowth; where two familiar
mossy feet walk up to it. Alec’s been watching the whole scene with interest.
Later that night, guitar sounds are emanating from outside the Langford house, as a presence seems to be moving in menacingly towards it. Inside,
Nathan is on the sofa playing his guitar, looking pretty spaced out. There are lots of empty bottles on the table beside him. Outside, someone unseen
continues to approach the house. Inside, oblivious to all this, Nathan continues to tune and play his guitar, as the presence draws closer, now
nearing the front door.
Nathan’s still playing when he hears a knock at the front door. Casually, he puts the guitar down and gets up to see what it is. His walk is more of a
doped-up stumbling around. He goes to the front door and opens it, stepping out and looking around, but seeing nothing but his car, still parked
outside in the position he left it in. The porch is empty too. “Who’s there?” he calls out, but there’s no reply. Confident there’s nobody there, he
turns to go inside, taking a swig from the beer bottle in his hand; but as he turns to look down the hallway, Alec is standing before him. Nathan
starts, dropping the bottle in surprise and giving a double take as though he’s seeing hallucinations. He blinks, looks down, then back up again... but
Alec is now gone. There’s only the dart board on the door ahead, which was behind where Alec was standing. Shaking his head at what he thinks is
just a drunken hallucination, he staggers back through the living room and into the kitchen, where he makes his way to the fridge.
"And today on 'through the keyhole', we
look around a celebrity house. Now who'd have
a tasteless death shrine in the fridge, and a swamp
monster in the kitchen? Yep, it's got to be the Kipps!"
Opening it, he peers inside to see what’s there for a snack. He looks on in shock as he sees, within the other contents, a shrine to the two teenagers,
complete with framed photo, noose and tribute candles. “There is no running away!” Alec’s voice intones gravely from behind him...
Nathan’s wide-eyed in surprise for a minute, but turns to look at Alec. By now, his expression’s returned to laid back again;
"What did you expect, Nathan??... You
are taking a vacation in the Psycho house!"
“Bwhoaa!... “ he gives a sigh and a laugh, looking at Alec; “... you’re not real, man,” he staggers away from the fridge, the door shutting behind him,
and he approaches Alec; “... can’t be. You’re really gross!” he quips. “The same can be said of you.” is Alec’s reply. “Yeah? Well maybe you’d
better check yourself in the mirror sometime, Jack!” Nathan sneers, staggering past Alec and back out of the kitchen, leaving Alec to contemplate.
Stone’s merrily wandering back to the lounge, happy and contented in his drunken stupor and singing to himself, when he trips over a speaker wire
which he didn’t see and falls to the floor, where he just lies contentedly to sleep it all off, still muttering whimsical nonsense to himself.
No rest for the wicked -- so as to speak -- though. His eyes widen in fear as Alec’s firm hand grasps him by his collar and pulls him up. Stone turns
to look at Alec standing over him. Now he’s looking more unnerved with the situation; “wh.. what d’ya want?” he asks. “You know what I want!”
Alec tells him. “Trust me... I had no idea!” Nathan shakes his head, sounding genuine. “You must take responsibility for your music... and for your
part in the deaths of those teenagers,” Alec lectures him sternly. “I didn’t do anything to ‘em!” Nathan protests, sounding more nervous. “You were
their hero!” Alec insists; “... and even when the problems of their lives seemed too much, your lyrics encouraged their suicides. Their blood is on
your hands!” he intones. “I never thought anybody would kill themselves!” Nathan looks genuinely shocked, putting his point. Alec just watches
silently as Nathan continues his excuses; “ besides, I can’t bring them back... right!? er, what am I supposed to do!?!?” “For one thing... you could
*care*!!” comes Alec’s angry answer. “I care!” Nathan insists, somewhat unconvincingly. “You care about nothing but yourself. Even the pain of
those two families fails to move you,” Alec’s eyes take on a deadly gleam; “... and that... is unforgivable!!” A huge lightning flash at that moment
puts his point across in a suitably dramatic fashion. Nathan starts in fear, and when he looks again, Alec is gone. “I need a drink!” he gasps, shaken,
before finally passing out on the floor.
"Next time, I pick a place with isolation, colourful ambience AND beds!!"
Later, the TV is on and showing static, while Nathan is seated on the sofa, asleep. Gradually, he begins to stir as the television starts to broadcast. It
seems to be a news bulletin, which is telling of a senseless tragedy for the heavy metal world of rock music; “Notorious heavy metal icon Nathan
Stone has been accused of inciting two youths to take their own lives...” the newscaster looks a dead ringer for Nathan’s manager, Larry Kefler,
and Nathan watches, spellbound; “... Stone, whose controversial performances are renowned for violent beheadings and graphic electrocutions... is
in seclusion.” The broadcast cuts off, and Nathan gives a sigh of disgust. “What seclusion, man... I’m on vacation,” he gets himself comfortable and
reaches forward to get a ‘herbal’ cigarette. He then leans back nonchalantly in the sofa; “... besides... my shows aren’t real. It’s just pure theatre.
They don’t mean squat!” he says contemptuously.
“They obviously meant something to those two troubled boys,” a voice tells him... from within the room. Nathan turns to see the newsreader now
staring at him, a shocked expression developing on his face as he sees what should be impossible; “... they looked up to you, Nathan. They had low
self esteem, and they dreamed of being just like you! And they lived their sad, young lives to do everything you did and said...”
"Another two or three of these... hey, I could get used to this series!"
Nathan looks at the joint he’s holding; “... it isn’t the marijuana,” continues the newsreader, “... this is reality!” This strikes an angry note with
Nathan. “What do you know about reality, man!?” he leans forward, accusingly; “... You just read the news... I make it!” Suddenly, there’s a flash
of lightning again, which makes Nathan jump back in shock. When he looks back, the newsreader’s gone, and in his place is a minister, clutching his
bible... still looking exactly like Larry Kefler.
“You are a puppet of Satan!” the bible-thumper’s evangelical voice condescends in smug glee as Nathan stares incredulously; “... for years, you
have done the Devil’s work, and now, he has finally taken over your soul!” “How’d you do that?? Where’s the news guy!?” Nathan asks, clearly
not happy with the latest incarnation of Larry. “I’m not here to answer questions, Nathan... I am *askin’* them!” he replies in suitably melodramatic
speech. “*Do*.. *you*.. *repent*!?” he demands to know, clutching his bible and pointing forth with his hand in an emphatic gesture to Stone, his
words echoing.
"Son... You are facing eternal damnation!!"
"Oh man... I *knew* this episode would affect my career!!"
“This is one outrageous trick!” Nathan gasps, edging backwards into the sofa. “Indeed! Death is the master of trickery, is he not?” the minister
lightens up and smiles evilly, looking as though this was on his agenda all along. “Death? Hah... that’s hilarious man,” Nathan sneers. The minister
smiles silently, and there’s another flash of lighting, again startling Nathan. When he looks back, the minister’s gone, and in his place is a dark, robed
figure silhouetted in the window.
“I’m so glad you feel that way, Nathan,” it says in a hoarse (but still distinctly Larry-like voice), “... eternal damnation will be right up your alley!”
“Okay! Enough already!” Nathan’s getting scared and pissed off with all this; “... I don’t wanna play this tune anymore, man.” “But you don’t really
have a choice,” comes the reply. “Sure I do,” Nathan insists, “... you see, I know you’re not real, man; cos I’m loaded, okay? I’ve had some
experience in that area,” he quips; “besides, that whole rap of yours is bull anyway: Good, evil... it’s all the same crap!” Fear is leaving him,
replaced by anger and indignation’ “... Rock and roll’s the only thing that counts! Dig? Hard-assed, blistering, awesome, heavy metal *rock*... and
*roll*!” It seemed, at first, that the anger was merely trying to overcome the fear, but by the end he’s worked himself into such a state that it’s
worked.
“We’ll see...” Satan says calmly and enigmatically, his face now showing (Larry’s), before simply disappearing. Nathan leans back on the sofa,
looking like he’s been put through the wringer and sighing heavily. Gasping in relief, he frantically looks through his bag for another joint, then
fumbles for his lighter, which he uses. He takes a long, relaxing inhale of the thing and sits back, calming himself down. “It’s all smoke and mirrors,
anyway,” he mutters reassuringly to himself, taking another drag of the joint; “... none of it’s real, man,” he continues to smoke his way to recovery.
And today on Home Shopping Network, Timmy and Elliot
are modelling the latest in designer T-Shirts and non-run mascara
Suddenly, the TV starts up again, and staring at him are the two dead boys, decomposing slightly now, and still wearing the clothes they wore when
they died. “Hey!? What is this!?!?” Nathan leans forward, staring back. “Turn it off!” he mutters angrily, getting up and approaching the television;
“I already told you... I DON’T BELIEVE ANY OF THIS!” He goes to kneel in front of the set, where the faces are looking at him in silent,
gruesome plea, their hands reaching forward as though to touch him. Nathan reaches out too, but when he touches the screen, his hand draws back
suddenly... covered in blood! “NO!” he cries.
He awakes with a start, gasping at the dream he’s just had; “Whoa!... I gotta lay off the weed.” he instinctively looks ahead at the television, and
starts in shock when he sees, beneath it, a pool of blood. That’s done it. He’s out of there. Leaping up from the sofa, he dashes for the front door,
opening it to escape. Not a good move! He almost has a heart attack in shock as when it’s opened, there are the two boys, still decomposing,
standing on the porch and gazing at him in awe; “We’re here, Nathan...” they reach out for him. Fainting in shock, he falls backwards, where he just
lies there... unconscious.
As Nathan lies there, Alec is standing in the doorway, watching him. Suddenly, Nathan gives a little jolt and begins to wake up. He sits up, facing
the doorway, but by then, Alec is gone. He gives a little sigh; “Some vacation this turned out to be!” he mutters to himself.
All of a sudden, from the lounge his music starts up, playing really loud. Nervously, he turns his head in its direction, and sees the stereo has turned
itself on. He then staggers to his feet and goes into the room, clutching his head against the noise. Making his way to the stereo, he rips out the mains
lead. He stares on in shock and horror as the equipment continues to play on. Unbeknown to him, behind his back, vines and leaves are creeping
down from the ceiling in the room. Now he sees them, as they are all over, covering the Hi Fi system as well. He turns to the television, also growing
thick with encroaching vines; and sees Alec on-screen, repeating over and over; “you care about nothing but yourself.”
... and next up on HSN, we've got the ultimate in Miracle-Gro...
“Stop it!!” he begins to panic, backing off and clutching his head; “SOMEBODY STOP IT!!” he screams, running away, backwards, through the mist and foliage. Out in the hallway, two horribly familiar voices are calling out, following him; “Nathan... Nathan,” they repeat, over and over in worship; “... we’ve come to you...” Nathan turns in horror; “No... go away!” Nathan tells the two dead boys as they shamble forward out of the shadows, reaching out to him imploringly. “Nathan... we did what you told us to...” their echoing voices utter as the two zombie teenagers shuffle nearer, pathetically; “... we came to be with you, Nathan.” “I don’t want you here!” he tells them; “... I never told you to do this, NEVER!” “But we died for you, Nathan...” one boy says to him, eyes vacant; “... we’re here... because of you...” the other boy adds, also with devoted but vacant eyes. On each of their necks, the rope marks are livid. They outstretch their arms to him, and Nathan, hyperventilating in panic, makes a bolt for it.
... our sales representatives even offer a personal delivery service...
Outside, he immediately backs off, gasping, then turns to his car. He stares in horror. It too is overgrown with vines. Reaching in, he retrieves a gun,
which he checks is loaded, before turning back to the car and starting in surprise. All the vines are now gone, and it’s pristine again. “Oh... calm
down!” he tries to steady himself, “... calm the hell down!” he breathes deeply, taking some strength from having the gun. “Chill out!... what’s going
on here?” he asks himself; “This place is haunted,” he decides, “... I’ve got to get out of here, pronto!” He turns slowly back to the car, then
grimaces; “Damn... the keys!” he groans, turning back to the house and realising he left them in there. He takes another look at the gun and steels
himself; “Here goes nothing!” he manages a quip, before very slowly braving himself to approach the house again.
He cautiously climbs the porch steps and opens the front door. Once inside, he fumbles for the light switch, but it doesn’t respond. “Great!” he
snarls sarcastically. He moves in, the gun held in front of him at the ready. He looks around and sees the keys on the sofa. Warily, he moves
towards them, one hand reaching out to the sofa, the other keeping the gun ready.
Suddenly, as he’s about to touch the keys, a hand reaches out from the cushions (wearing the wrist strap of one of the boys) and grabs his gun
hand. There’s a struggle, and he draws back his other hand to strike at it.
Suddenly, his music starts up again, and he’s now in concert, guitar in hand, and playing to the crowd. Everything is in slow motion. He plays the
guitar, then reaches for the stage microphone; but something makes him stop and throw it away. Behind him, two nooses appear, and the boys can
just be seen, as his music seems to fade into the background. He’s watching the very first scene, and they’re just clasping hands, ready to do it. He
turns to them in horror as they turn to the nooses, determined looks on their faces. As they step up in the spotlights and put their necks to the ropes,
he’s running forward to stop them. It’s all still in slow motion. “NOOOOOOO!” he screams, long and hard, reaching out to stop them...
The scene is now back at the sofa in the lounge, and he’s still wrestling to free his gun hand. Gasping in panic and terror, he manages to pull free,
firing three shots into the air, then running back into the hallway.
“Hey, Nathan!” Larry’s voice calls to him from the stairs, and Nathan’s immediate reaction is to turn and shoot. The singer’s face turns to horror
when he sees Larry clutch the wound in his chest and collapse on the stairs... for real! He stares into Nathan’s eyes, still holding himself and staying
upright by grasping the banister; “Why!?” he gasps to the singer, falling onto the steps. “I didn’t know it was you, man!!” Nathan cries in a sobbing
voice, dropping the gun and running to help Larry; “... I thought you were an intruder!!” Larry says nothing, slumping down further in pain as Nathan
crouches over him; “... I didn’t see it was you,” he sobs, distraught.
He tries to control his panicked crying, and looks around in desperation. Seeing the hall phone, he rushes for it, dialling hurriedly; “Hello?... I need a
doctor!” his barely coherent voice manages to speak out... just; “... there’s been a shooting,” he looks back at Larry; “... I don’t know whether I
killed him or not!” his broken voice is saying.
“You’re friend will be all right...” Alec’s voice -- now patient and reassuring -- makes him start, and he looks up to see Alec standing beside him;
“... question is, will you??”
Later, at the hospital, Larry is lying unconscious in an intensive care room. Nathan’s with him, waiting by the window, sighing. Time seems to pass,
and Nathan’s still there, standing in a different part of the room. The room has now grown darker, and it’s evening. Later, the even darker room
indicates that it’s fully night-time, Nathan’s still there, sitting down glumly and keeping his vigil over Larry. Eventually, the manager begins to open his
eyes and blink, giving a little sigh. Nathan sees, and goes over to him with concern.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you they weren't going to pay you extra
for doing four roles... I just didn't think you'd take it so bad !"
“Hey, Larry,” he says mildly, sitting himself on the edge of the bed and looking down at the man, who looks up at him. “You’re not here to finish me
off, are ya?” Larry manages to quip in a deadpan manner, and Nathan gives a little sigh come laugh, shaking his head; “I can’t tell you how sorry I
am, man,” he says, sounding deeply remorseful; “.. I was really blotto.” he gives another little sigh, then remembers something; “What the hell were
you doing in the house?” he asks Larry, who then looks troubled (well, more so than just because of the gun shot), and gives a little sigh; “I came
back to talk to you,” he says weakly; “Nathan... I’m too old for this craziness. It’s got to stop,” he finally says what he’s been wanting to; “... I can’t
baby-sit you anymore.” Nathan looks at him with infinite patience, shaking his head reassuringly. “You won’t have to,” he tells Larry; “... I’ve had
twenty four hours to think about it.” There’s a pause, as Nathan thinks of what to say, and Larry regards him; “... You know why I got into music at
first?” he looks Larry in the eyes and asks him; “... it wasn’t the chicks or the bread,” he confides; “... it was the only way I could get my dad to pay
any attention to me.” he pauses, controlling his emotions; “... it all came back to me, sitting here, wondering if you were going to pull through or not,”
he collects himself again, remembering; “... Someone gave him this old guitar once. He tried to learn to play the thing for years; and after I learned
how to play it, and he couldn’t... I was the biggest thing to hit his life since the invention of the six pack!” Larry looks on as Nathan tells his story;
“You never told me that before,” he says to Nathan. “I never told anybody,” he looks away from Larry, saddened by something; “... anyway, we
fell out, after I got into heavy metal. He said I let him down;” Nathan nods, smiling wistfully; “... fact is... he was right. I caused him a lot of pain,” he
turns back to Larry; “I’m getting out of the pain business, Larry,” he says with resolve; “... I’m cancelling the tour.” “What are you going to do
then?” Larry asks him. “For starters, I’m going to Michigan, to see the parents of those two kids.” he gives a big sigh; “...they gave up the only thing
they can’t ever get back. They thought they were doing it for *me*, man!” he sounds upset; “What was the name of that town?” he asks Larry.
“Coldwater,” is the reply. “Then that’s where I’m going.” he smiles as Larry seems to look approvingly, “... it’s the least I can do.”
Later that night, Nathan is leaning against his car, outside the Langford house, looking up at the sky wistfully for one last time. Slowly, he moves
away and gets in, starting the engine. Before he sets off, he looks to his side and smiles broadly. “Thank you,” are his only, now peaceful words, as
he drives off. Behind him, from the bushes, Alec stands and watches him leave.