About to see Bumblebee

Michael Bay's sins are many, but none have angered me more than The Last Knight, where we saw a human NOT react to a robot turning into a car.

She was running, the robot turned into a car, and she got in without once acknowledging that there was a robot doing an incredible thing. She didn't even glance in the robot's direction.

She was literally running to the spot where the robot was going to be, like she'd dealt with this sort of thing all the time. It was as if she was instructed just to run to the car and get in, and the animation was added afterwards.

From her point of view, all she was doing was getting into a car. And I think that's why, on a fundamental level, Michael Bay is the worst and his Transformers movies are the worst.

From Bay's perspective, the robots are not characters. They are just special effects for the humans--i.e., the REAL stars--to interact with.

The worst.

And now I'm off to see a new Transformers movie.

It's okay, Bay wasn't involved with this one. All they did was give him a producer's credit or something. There's a good chance this one won't even be racist or sexist.

Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV

Just watched Kingsglaive. I have a lot of thoughts about this movie, which is never a good sign.

First, I should say that I haven't played the Final Fantasy series in a long time. The last one I played all the way through was FFX. So my first concern was whether there would be a barrier to entry--an unbreachable wall, if you would. To the film's credit, I more or less understood the status quo.

This movie serves as a prequel to the game. I know this because the main characters of the game do not appear until the very end. This was the equivalent of the Star Wars prequel trilogy--or Rogue One, if I'm being generous. The drawback is that none of the featured characters seem very interesting, nor do they seem to have much agency. Their character arc is to sacrifice themselves so that the (hopefully) more interesting main characters can do the job in the video game. It's like someone made an entire movie about Biggs Darklighter.

It felt very much like no characters in the movie made any real decisions. The movie was a series of cutscenes, tolerating no deviation. All momentum, no humanity. The Uncanny Valley didn't help either.

The characters are little more than archetypes with a bit of backstory. Our stalwart hero is interchangeable with any number of stalwart heroes. He is a soldier who talks of duty and lofty ideals. For that matter, the king and the princess do as well. There are almost no scenes that humanize these characters, save perhaps a few that occur very early in the movie and become buried by the subsequent action sequences. I mean, tell a fucking joke! It's hard to take seriousness seriously these days! You have to break it up with human moments!

The themes of the film seem almost irrelevant. They appear only in dialogue characters exchange when they are confronting one another. The villain can't break free from the past; the hero fights for the future. I'm not even sure why the protagonists and antagonists always talk to each other while they're trying to kill each other. When did that trope begin? "I'm trying to kill you, but first I must convince you that my perspective is correct."

The action sequences are flashy and extravagant. And also boring. As usual, the stakes are as high as they could possibly be, probably to match the budget. But it is folly to create such lengthy sequences without doing everything you can to make sure we care. Filmmakers seem to think that they need good action sequences to make us care about the story. In reality, they need good story to make us care about the action. Most of my favorite moments from Die Hard are the human moments. I barely remember the large action sequences. And the industry's inability to recognize that a good story should always come first is... exhausting.

And it's not like there wasn't room for a good story. There was clearly a lot of love and attention given to this movie's characters and lore. But as with the recent Fantastic Beasts film, none of that love and attention translated to a movie that told its story well.

What do wrestling and comics have in common?

In wrestling, there is a moment when things aren't looking good for our babyface. In that moment, our face starts reaching out to the audience. "Only your cheers can save me," they seem to say.

Maybe they summon cheers and chants by reaching and wiggling their finger, as if trying to grasp something just out of reach. Maybe they start stomping on the mat to encourage the audience to clap.

Most of the time the audience is happy to do so. The audience likes to participate. But it's also kind of a problem.

It's very telling that the audience is being "cued." It reveals that the audience's attention and engagement is not in sync with the match happening right in front of them.

With a bloated roster that does nothing but expand, it makes sense that the audience might seem aloof. There is so much wrestling being offered, but I'd wager only a handful of fans care about every match. After all, everyone has their favorites.

I've said this before: Watching WWE is a lot like consuming a comics publisher's entire line of comics in one sitting. Some fans just want to read the Batman or Wonder Woman comics, but they are also getting Green Lantern and Aquaman. It takes a special kind of talent to make me care about the likes of Green Lantern and Aquaman, and I'm not just talking about the talent of the individual wrestlers.

The problem with wrestling is essentially the same as the problem with comics. There's very little difference on the surface. Good guys vs. bad guys. Shocking twists. The occasional payoff.

The thing is, comics have done a much better job over the years of reinventing itself. They've learned how to bend the rules without breaking them. Meanwhile, wrestling (specifically WWE) isn't all that different from how they've been in the '80s.

Think about Chris Claremont and his run on X-Men. He defined the X-Men, arguably more than Stan Lee did. It was his vision that saved X-Men from cancellation. But here's the thing: he stayed on the book too long. It got stale. His voice--his stories--grew to be out of sync with the audience. In addition, the product was diluted with numerous spinoffs and companion books. (The X-Men "world" is notoriously difficult to keep track of.) They were popular, so there was more money to be made by producing more product.

At this moment, WWE has many shows. There's the flagship show (Raw), it's companion show (SmackDown Live), it's niche shows (NXT, 205 Live), its special projects (tournaments like Mae Young Classic, or the experimental Facebook show Mixed Match Challenge), and its pay per views (WrestleMania, SummerSlam, etc.). That doesn't even include its "noncanonical" shows (like Main Event).

The product is bloated. Twenty X-Men books bloated. Yes, they have several of the most talented wrestlers in the world, but they are essentially telling the same story: good guys and bad guys.

If I were to pick just one show to watch, it would be NXT. With only one hour a week, they have been able to get to the core of what makes wrestling great: story and talent. Talent alone will not get the job done. The audience no longer recognizes talent because there's just so much of it. There needs to be story, and the stories need to be different. The wrestlers need to be well defined, but more than that they need to set themselves apart from the others. But that's hard to do when you have a roster this big. Much of the time, it feels like you're watching a rerun. "Haven't I seen this before?"

NXT does the best job of taking the raw WWE talent and cultivating it into both unique characters and compelling stories.

Unfortunately, by design, much of this talent is "called up" to the main roster (either Raw or SmackDown). You know that awesome X-Men story you just read? Well, those characters were just handed to a creative team that doesn't really "get" them.

Once they reach the main roster, much effort is put into rebuilding these characters from the ground up. NXT does this amazing job of developing these guys, and then the main roster slams the brakes on that momentum. Why? Because the audience for NXT is not necessarily the same audience as the main roster. Remember, NXT is a "niche" show--as much as anything with a WWE brand (that also has action figures at Target) can be considered niche.

This causes cognitive dissonance. It makes me feel like I'm not seeing the same character that was so engaging in NXT--it feels like a new, alternative universe version of that character. Like when a new creative team takes over a comic. On the surface, everything looks the same, but certain inconsistencies pop up. Sometimes Batman remembers who killed his parents; sometimes he doesn't.

It makes the product convoluted, complicated. It needs to be streamlined. It needs compelling stories. It needs a consistent vision. It needs a vision that is in touch with what fans react to. It needs to take risks and experiment with the format. It needs to be different from the way it was 30 years ago.

Comics change from decade to decade. In one decade, they were lighthearted and goofy. In another decade, they were serious and dramatic. In another decade, they became more tonally balanced. Each time, they recognized a need to change. Marvel and DC--they are essentially the WWE of comics. They fall under one umbrella known as the Big Two. Like WWE, they are too big. Unlike WWE, they have changed. They will continue to try new things. They can do this, because their size relative to WWE's is still quite small. There is not a comic published today that has as many as 1 million readers. WWE has several million fans. Superheroes have a lot more room (and need) for growth, even though they consume too much of the retailer's shelf space. The Big Two, despite being too big, still feel like underdogs. They are on TV and in movie theaters, but that doesn't translate to book sales. Meanwhile, WWE is like Galactus, constantly growing and spreading, consuming all the talent, shitting out the product. It's exactly what DC and Marvel would become if given the chance. It's what DC and Marvel were in the '90s.

One major difference between comics and WWE is how they engage the fans. Comics has done a better job of listening to what fans want. Maybe not right away, but they do come around. When people were upset about how women are portrayed, we (eventually) started seeing more books led by women (both characters and creators). Change is slow and frustrating in comics, but it happens.

In WWE, change is an illusion. Everything that appears to be "progress" in WWE feels hollow, shallow, cynical. As with comics, the audience demanded more and better representation for women. So WWE developed their women's roster--stopped calling them "divas." The "let" the women have the main event. They celebrate every "first" (first main event, first cage match, first iron man match). So inspiring, right? But here's how you know it's just a cash grab--the women tend to get only 10 to 15 percent of total air time.

WWE doesn't take risks the same way comics does. They won't put the women in the lead role. Not right away. Not until they know it's "safe." And then they will pat themselves on the back for breaking barriers. Led by the same mind and vision that brought us bra and panties matches. Comics understood that it was time for Chris Claremont to stop writing X-Men. The problem with WWE is that "Chris Claremont" is also the owner, and he'll die before he stops writing those X-Men books.

Rereading Sandman

I've begun what is probably my fifth reading of Neil Gaiman's Sandman, though I guess it could be my sixth. (Memory is not always a strength of mine.) Each time I read this series, the experience is different. But unlike the Dark Knight Returns (where the experience gets worse with each reading) or Watchmen (where the experience stayed the same), with Sandman I find different things to admire, different discoveries. This time around, I'm looking for simple things, subtle things. But along the way, I am also taking note of Gaiman's propensity for representation, and how seamlessly he seems to do it. This makes sense, as he strikes me as someone who sees humanity in everyone, including (and perhaps especially) the villains.

Sandman strikes me as a very inclusive book, which is probably one reason why it brought in so many new readers and is so beloved to this day. How it took Hollywood this many decades to realize there was money to be made by being inclusive is baffling, because the answer was there the whole time.

The most terrifying parts of Sandman are the things Gaiman does not explain. He has an explanation for the lifecycle of gods, but he does not explain why the grove of "suicide trees" has now become a forest. There are things about human nature--human lives--that are frightening simply because we don't have the answers.

Comic Relief #5: Cycles

Mike, Ben, and Chan are watching a movie at Mike’s place. Chan has finished his bacon and left behind a greasy plate on the coffee table.

The movie ends.

Chan: Well, I’m starving. Who wants to hit the bar?

Ben: I’m down for that.

Mike: Um…

Ben: Mike? Why do you hesitate?

FLASHBACK

Mike is at the bar, in conversation with a woman. He extends his hand.

Mike: I’m Mike, by the way.

Chan insinuates himself and throws an arm over Mike’s shoulder.

Chan: Mike’s the best! Hope you don’t mind how much he watches hentai!

Mike: I… I don’t watch hentai. Not as much as you’d think.

The woman removes herself.

Chan: Aw, Mike. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.

ANOTHER FLASHBACK

Mike is at the bar, sitting with Chan.

Chan: You know what you’re problem is, Mike? You have a crippling fear of failure. You’re what men call other men a “pussy.”

Mike: I wish you wouldn’t use that word?

Chan: Word? What word? PUSSY?

The people immediately surrounding them go silent.

Chan: What’s wrong with that word? It’s what you are, isn’t it?

ANOTHER FLASHBACK

Mike and Chan are at the bar.

Chan: Hey, Mike, remember the time you pissed yourself when I had you in that wrestling hold? The Sharpshooter?

Mike stares down his glass.

Chan: Mike? What’s up? You’re awfully quiet.

Mike: Chan, I appreciate that you care about me and are always trying to encourage me to step out of my comfort zone, but can’t you think of a better way to do it than publicly humiliating and emasculating me?

Chan: What are you talking about? It’s funny, isn’t it?

Mike: It depends, I guess.

Chan: Yeah? Well, what about all those stories you write? Where does all the humor come from? It comes from you—I’m sorry, your “character”—being constantly humiliated and shamed.

Mike: Yeah, well… It’s actually not very fun. For him.

Chan: What do you want me to do about it? I’m out here having a good time with my friends. You’re the one who decided to be upset. That’s on you.

Chan gulps down his beer.

Chan: I bet you’re gonna make me out to be a villain in one of your stories. You encourage us to laugh at how non-manly you are, but the moment something upsets you in real life, the moment these traits are no longer convenient fodder for cheesy stories, you want some empathy. So let me ask you this—are we supposed to be laughing at you, or sympathizing with you? Are you writing a comedy, or a tragedy?

Mike: I’m not a character in a story.

Chan: But aren’t you, though? Aren’t you just taking your own qualities, magnifying them, and holding them up for scrutiny? Aren’t you inviting people not just to judge your stories and characters, but to judge yourself? And if you can’t handle that, how could you possibly make it as a writer? Except you haven’t made it, have you? You’ve already given up on those dreams. That’s why you’re writing garbage blog stories instead of a book or a movie.

THE PRESENT

Ben: Mike? You still with us?

Mike blinks.

Mike: Yeah. A bar sounds great.

Comic Relief #4: Chan Returns

There is a knock on the door. Mike and Ben look away from their movie.

Ben: You expecting someone?

Silence.

Ben: You are granted permission to speak.

Mike: No, I’m not.

Another knock.

Mike: Should I… answer it?

Ben shrugs.

Ben: It’s your house.

Mike stands and goes to the door. He looks through the peephole.

Mike: Hey! It’s our good friend Chan!

Mike opens the door.

Chan: How’s it going, you fucking J...

Chan freezes. He clears his throat.

Chan: Let me try that again. How’s it going you… you fucking…

Mike: What’s the matter?

Chan: Nothing. I’m just trying to say that thing I said back then. The thing that made everybody laugh.

Ben: Your catchphrase.

Chan: I wouldn’t call it my catchphrase. It was just this thing I said this one time, and then several times after that. Give me a second. I can do this.

Chan takes a deep breath.

Chan: How’s it going, you fucking J… J… jerks!

Mike and Ben glance at each other, then at Chan.

Mike: Was that what you used to say back then? Because I have to say, it’s not as funny now.

Chan: I couldn’t say it. I guess I’m not the same guy I was back then. God, I’m depressed.

Mike: You wanna come in and watch a movie that reveres toxic masculinity?

Chan: Are there guns?

Mike: So many guns.

Chan: That does sound pretty cool.

Chan enters. We now see he carries a large plate of bacon.

Mike: Oh. That explains why you smell so good.

Ben is suspicious.

Ben: Hey, what were you going to do with that?

Chan: I dunno. At first I thought it would be really funny if I threw bacon at you guys. But that’s the old me, I guess. Now I just wanna hang out with you guys. And eat bacon.

Mike: That actually sounds like a great idea.

They sit down on the couch, Chan in the middle, the plate of bacon sitting on the coffee table in front of them. The coffee table literally did not exist until the words were typed. But now you must accept the lie that it was there the whole time. Because that’s how writing works.

Chan: So what’s this movie about?

Ben: The hero’s family was killed—

Chan: So he buys a gun and goes on a killing spree?

Ben: Yep.

Chan: Sounds like quality entertainment.

Mike and Ben reach for some bacon.

Chan: No. Mine.

Ben: (muttering) Stupid patriarchy.

Comic Relief #3: Men

Mike and Ben are sitting on the couch. They are watching a movie.

The hero of the film sits alone on a park bench.

Hero: I did everything I was supposed to do. I did everything right. But now my family’s dead. And I couldn’t protect them. I failed them. I failed as a human being. And worst of all, I failed as a man. The only logical thing to do is get a gun and live out my revenge fantasy until I have somehow reclaimed my manhood.

Mike: They’re laying on the patriarchal thinking kinda thick, don’t you think?

Ben: What have I told you about talking during movies?

Mike: That only you can do it?

Ben: Now say you’re sorry.

Mike: But that would be talking.

Ben: ARE YOU CONTRADICTING ME?

Mike: No, no, I’m sorry!

Ben: I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING!

Mike: You don’t have to be so toxic.

Ben’s eyes slowly turn in their sockets toward Mike. His head likewise follows. He is now looking at Mike. He raises his hand high in the air.

Ben: Finish this sentence—when Ben’s hand goes up…

Silence.

Ben: I said. Finish. This. Sentence. When Ben’s hand goes up…

Silence.

Ben: This is the last time. When Ben’s hand goes up…

Mike: …Mike’s mouth goes shut.

Ben slaps him with his raised hand.

Ben: NO TALKING!

Mike: (aside) Stupid patriarchy.

Comic Relief #2: Algorithms

Ben sits down next to Mike on the couch. He is drinking a 120 Minute IPA and is mildly buzzed. Mike is drinking a cup full of his own tears.

Ben: Wow, that was quite the adventure. Remember how we escaped that treacherous wall of water?

Mike: Yeah. I was right there.

Ben: Oh. Yes.

Ben sips his beer.

Ben: But are you sure you don’t want to relive it, for the sake of exposition?

Mike: Hm?

Ben is alarmed.

Ben: Hey, Mike, what’s wrong? I’m trying to bring everyone up to speed and you’re just sitting there like a useless lump. You’re sitting there like… like Mike.

Mike: Hm.

Ben: If this were a sitcom, the audience would have laughed an inappropriately long time, disproportionate to the actual funniness of the joke.

Mike: Yes, I know. Insulting me is great for an easy laugh. I’m just not feeling it today.

Ben: Aw, what happened? Did a girl turn you down? (aside) Like any girl would be caught dead talking to you.

Mike: No, it’s nothing like that. It’s this thing I wrote and posted to social media.

Pause.

Mike: I do talk to girls, you know. I mean women.

Ben: Saying “good morning” at the office doesn’t count. And for future reference, you’re not supposed to respond to asides.

Mike: Noted.

Ben: So this thing you posted. I assume it was your manifesto?

Mike: No, it was just this thing I wrote that I thought was really deep and meaningful and well done.

Ben: So what’s the problem?

Mike: The problem is no one’s seen it. See?

Mike shows Ben his laptop, opened to the social media page.

Ben: Oh. Oh, right. I see what the problem is.

Mike: You do?

Ben: Yeah, it’s really a very simple misunderstanding.

Mike: It is?

Ben: It’s not that nobody’s seen it. It’s that nobody liked it.

Mike: But I thought… with the algorithms.

Ben: Nope. Not algorithms. Nobody liked it. It’s a perfectly normal reaction when you write something bad.

Mike: Oh.

Ben sips his 120 Minute IPA. Mike has sunk into his seat.

Ben: Oh, what’s the matter now?

Mike: It’s really shaken my confidence. I worked on this thing and put it out there and… nothing.

Ben: From one artist to another, you’ve got to believe me—that’s the risk you take.

Mike: So this has happened to you too?

Ben: Nah, I’m actually good at writing.

Sitcom-style laughter disproportionate to the quality of the joke.

Comic Relief #1: Flesh

Mike is sitting on the couch. Ben sits down next to him. They are holding beers.

Ben: I like it. It’s real slice-of-lifey.

Mike: How did your wife take the news?

Ben: My wife? You mean the fully fleshed out character who definitely has a name and a rich life outside of our misadventures? That wife?

Mike: I’m not sure anymore. I think so?

Ben: She’s fine. I told her the puppy was defective and had to be sent back.

Mike: Ah, that is, of course, in reference to the previous episode.

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose.

Mike: What? What’s wrong?

Ben: We’re really doing this? We’re going meta again? I thought you wanted this to be accessible.

Mike: Sure, why not? Deadpool’s accessible.

Ben: We’re not Deadpool. We are not a delightful, violent parody. We’re hit-or-miss—mostly miss—Dan Harmon Community bullshit.

Mike: Didn’t you break the fourth wall first? Isn’t it your fault we’ve gone in this direction?

Ben: Don’t make me slap you, Mike. It’s been years since I’ve had to slap you, and I’m not sure how the audience will respond to that in a post-“Me Too” era.

Mike: I mean. You can slap me if you want. If you think it’ll help.

Ben: No, no. The moment’s passed. I just… I thought we could recapture something. That lightning in a bottle. Mike and Ben. Together again. New new adventures. But it’s all the same, isn’t it?

Mike: I mean, it’s not all the same. We’re both a little bit older, a little bit wiser.

Ben: What’s my wife’s name, Mike?

Mike: Her name? It’s, uh—it starts with a J, right?

Ben: Yeah. It starts with a J. Tell me something else, since you know everything. What brand of beer am I drinking?

Mike: Excuse me?

Ben: This is a fully fleshed out world, isn’t it? Surely, you can at least tell me what kind of beer I’m drinking. You’re sitting right there, after all. You can see it with your own eyes, can’t you? Come on, Mike. Give me a little bit of detail.

Ben shoves the bottle in Mike’s face.

Ben: WHAT DOES THE BOTTLE SAY, MIKE?

Mike: (muttering)

Ben: LOUDER, MIKE.

Mike: Beer.

Ben: SAY IT AGAIN.

Mike: Beer. It says beer. All it says is beer.

Ben: And how many have I had? How buzzed am I right now? Am I drunk? Have you put even that much thought into this scene? IT’S A SIMPLE QUESTION, MIKE!

Mike: Hey, I’m in the same boat you are!

Ben: Yeah. “The same boat.” But not really. You’re his avatar, aren’t you? His stand-in.

Mike: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ben: Oh, so suddenly the fourth wall has fixed itself! Suddenly you have no idea! I can’t help but admire the consistency of it all!

Mike: What’s the problem, Ben? Why can’t we just do normal, you know, Mike and Ben stuff?

Ben: You know why. Because none of it will be new. The only reason we’re here right now is because we’re his crutch. And maybe it would be okay if he’d just do something different. Tell a real story, you know? But instead, once again, it’s just the two of us. No story to take part in. Not even a world to live in. My wife doesn’t even have a name.

Ben squeezes the bottle of “Beer” until it shatters, spraying its contents.

Ben: SHE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A NAME!

Mike: Ben… calm down.

Ben: I’m going home tonight, and I’m going to share a bed with not a person, not a character, not even the idea of a character.

Ben collapses onto the couch.

Ben: Why did he make me aware of this?

Mike: Ben… it’s like you said. You and I… we’re not real. Maybe this is how he wants it. Or maybe a real, fleshed-out world is just… beyond his abilities right now. Maybe he’s still trying to figure it out.

Ben: But he had so much time. I thought he would get better.

Mike: I guess he didn’t use his time very well.

Ben: So… what? We’re just gonna sit here? You’re gonna do Mike stuff and I’m gonna do Ben stuff until… when?

Mike: I don’t like where this is going. We’re Mike and Ben. We’re supposed to have adventures. And punchlines. We’re supposed to be funny.

Ben: Do you hear that? It sounds like… No. He wouldn’t dare.

Mike: Hear what?

Ben goes to the window. It is still shattered from before.

Ben: Where are we?

Mike: We’re at my house.

Ben: I know we’re at your house. But where did he put the house?

He looks out the window.

Ben: I thought so.

Ben goes to the door.

Mike: I don’t think you should go outside.

Ben: Why not? He put us here for a reason. It’s a shitty reason that he improvised, but it’s still a reason. And there’s literally no other course of action. Go outside or don’t go outside? What kind of choice is that?

He opens the door and steps outside.

Mike approaches the door. A beam of sunlight surprises him, and he shields his eyes.

Ben: He went there. I can’t believe he went there. The fucking nerve of him.

Mike: Where are we? The beach?

Ben: Not the beach. The ocean.

Ben steps up to the water. It doesn’t quite touch his feet. He looks up into the sky.

Ben: I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING! YOU THINK I WON’T DO IT?

Mike: This is weird. It’s like… a memory of a memory.

Ben: He’s daring me. He’s fucking daring me to do it. But he’s given me nothing. All I’ve got in this world… is you.

Mike: Ben, I don’t know what’s going on.

Ben: But it’s just not enough. It can’t just be about Mike and Ben. Ben and Mike. I want more. And if this is all he can manage…

Ben takes a step forward. He takes another step. And another.

The water recedes. And recedes. And recedes.

He runs into the ocean. The water parts around him. Eventually, he stands alone in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by a wall of water.

The sun eventually sets.

He sits down on a rock, head in hands.

Mike: Feel better?

Ben looks up. Mike is standing in front of Ben.

Ben: How’d you even get here?

Mike: I couldn’t even tell you what beer you were drinking. What makes you think I could answer that?

Ben: It’s official. God is a writer. And He’s a bad one.

Mike: He tries, though. He wants to be better. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.

Ben: He used me, Mike. He used a memory of something painful. For what? For drama. It wasn’t even his memory. He stole it.

Mike: He used that memory because it was a powerful one. So powerful that it meant something to him. Even though he was never there. Even though he’s never felt anything like it. Until now, perhaps. Maybe he’s finally reached that place where you found yourself so many years ago, and he now has to decide whether or not to overcome himself. Like you did.

Ben: You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Mike: I know you’re my hero.

Ben: It’s only episode 1. We haven’t done anything yet. We haven’t had any of those crazy adventures, where we learn something valuable and then come home and press the reset button.

Mike: That’s not true, and you know it. And there’s no such thing as a reset button.

Ben: I’m not a hero. Look at where we are. This isn’t where heroes wind up.

Mike: That’s the whole point. This is a memory. It’s in the past. This isn’t where you wound up. For whatever reason, you chose a more difficult path. You’re not cowering behind your fear of failure. You’re working. You’re trying. And I’m… I’m still just me.

Ben: Mike…

Mike: Have you ever stayed the same for so damned long that it feels like it’s literally killing you? Like… Like you’ve outgrown your clothes. Like your soul’s grown too big for the shell that encases it. And all you want is for something—anything—to change. Just one small thing. You just want a little room to wiggle around. Some room to breathe.

Silence.

Mike: I think I’m drowning, Ben.

Silence.

Ben: Heh.

Ben starts to laugh. He gives in to uncontrollable laughter.

Mike: Ben, are you okay?

Ben: I’m fine. I’m fine. Please excuse me.

He wipes away a tear.

Mike: What’s so funny?

Ben: Nothing. It’s stupid.

Ben continues laughing. Mike frowns at him, befuddled.

Finally, Ben catches his breath.

Ben: Hey, Mike?

Mike: Yeah?

Ben: You remember that beer I was drinking earlier?

Mike: Um, yes.

Ben: What was it?

Mike: I think… it was a 120 Minute IPA. That’s your favorite, isn’t it?

Ben: Yeah. Yeah. I guess it is.

Ben takes a deep breath.

Ben: And my wife? What’s her name?

Mike: Why are you asking me?

Ben: Just answer the question.

Mike: It’s Jane. Her name is Jane.

Ben nods.

Ben: Yes, I believe it is. No… I know it is.

He wipes away another tear.

Mike: Ben… I don’t understand. What are we doing here? How did we even get here?

Ben: Isn’t it obvious? We’re on an adventure.

Comic Relief #0: Rabbit Hole

Mike sits at a table, reading a comic and sipping at a soda. He looks up and notices you.

Mike: Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there. Don’t worry, I won’t call the cops. Have a seat. My name is Mike.

Ben enters through a window, shattering the glass. He stands and brushes himself off.

Ben: And I’m Ben.

Mike: Ben, I was just explaining to our new friend here who we are and what we’re all about.

Ben stares at you.

Ben: I don’t know. I don’t think you can handle going down this rabbit hole.

Mike: Is that a metaphor for…?

Ben: Why are you trailing off? Finish the sentence.

Mike: I mean. I don’t want to say it in polite company.

Ben looks at you.

Ben: You. Are you polite?

You shake your head.

Ben looks at Mike.

Ben: Go ahead. You can say it.

Mike: Anyway, you might have noticed that Ben and I have an interesting little dynamic, maximized for your enjoyment.

Ben: The rabbit hole is my penis.

Mike: I am a run-of-the-mill awkward geek. Ben is pretty much the same, except he’s a bit less awkward and a bit more emotionally abusive.

Ben: In a funny way.

Mike hesitates.

Ben: I’m abusive in a funny way. Like, I’m the Roadrunner, and Mike is the Coyote I push off a cliff.

Mike: The Roadrunner never pushed the Coyote off a cliff.

Ben: Sure he did. He must have.

Mike: No, the Roadrunner never directly harmed the Coyote. That was one of the rules.

Ben: Well, you’re stupid and nobody cares about that, or anything else you have to say because you’re worthless.

Ben looks at you.

Ben: See? Funny.

Mike: How is the rabbit hole your penis? How does that even work?

Ben: Stop obsessing about my rabbit hole.

Mike: Well, moving on. I guess you’d like to know what else you can expect. Like, are we going have wacky adventures?

Ben: Heh. Don’t count on it. You’ll probably just get slice-of-life, comic-strip-length stories written for a punchline.

Mike: Well, that’s not necessarily true. There might be larger stories. Some might even call them “epic.”

Ben: You’re the only one who calls them that.

Mike: But we’re probably not gonna do anything crazy right away. We need to get to know each other first. But you’d best prepare yourself, because this is gonna be one wild… Hey, where are you going?

You stand up and turn to the door. Ben is already there. You glance at where he stood before, which was across the room. You don’t know how he could have traversed that distance so quickly.

Ben: You want to leave? Is that it? And miss out on the verbal and (sometimes) physical abuse I heap onto Mike for comedic effect? What’s the matter with you? Do you hate laughter? Do you hate fun?

You back away. You bump into the table. When you look, Mike is opposite you, having risen from his seat.

Mike: Leaving now would really hurt my feelings. And after I made myself so emotionally vulnerable.

Ben: I think you ought to get a sneak preview, so that you understand what you’d be missing out on.

You maneuver around the table, looking around desperately.

Mike: Won’t you stay? Couldn’t you stay? Won’t you be my audience?

You see the window that Ben shattered upon his entrance. You make a run for it. You dive through. And then…

Darkness.

Time passes. You find yourself in a room, unable to move. You are bedridden.

Mike: Ah, you’re awake. You took a nasty fall.

Ben: Actually, the fall wasn’t that bad, from the ground level and all. But you did bump your head a bit.

Mike: And we did drop you a few times getting you back into the house.

Ben: It was almost funny.

Mike: (aside) Story of my life.

Ben: But don’t feel bad. Because while you’re here, we’ll tell you some stories.

Mike: Yes, and then you’ll be our…

Silence.

Ben: What? What’s the problem?

Mike: I was about to say “biggest fan.”

They both groan.

Ben: Misery. We’re copying Misery. Fuck.

Mike: FUCK!!!

Ben: We can’t do stuff like that, Mike. We have to be better than that.

Mike: I know, I know. It just happened, okay? You think I set out to copy Stephen King? I haven’t even read any of his books all the way through!

Ben: Thanks for wasting my time, Mike. My wife has been waiting for me for five hours. I told her I was buying her a puppy. A puppy, Mike!

Mike: I thought I was ready. I really thought I could do this.

Ben: I’m going home.

Ben starts exiting the room. Mike follows.

Mike: You owe me a new window.

Ben: When you think about, you owe yourself a new window.

They continue talking. You look around. You try to move. You can’t.

Mike returns.

Mike: Hey, sorry about all that. I do try my best, but sometimes these things don’t always work out. They say failure can be a great teacher.

Ben: (from elsewhere) STOP QUOTING STAR WARS! THAT ONE WASN’T EVEN VERY GOOD!

Mike: Just… bear with me.

Mike turns to leave, grabbing the door.

Mike: And… get comfortable.

The door shuts.