In A Time Lapse

Einaudi: Life plays.

Lem is supposed to understand but he doesn’t. Not fully.

She had a dream where she was beautiful. Like a top movie star. In high school. In the 1980’s. Lip gloss and colored denim. Perms. New Wave. All of it.

But she didn’t care. Barely knew her class schedule. Everything was a blur.

“But that was me now, if I went back in time?” asks Lacey.

“Yes.” says Lem.

“I was better at it all when I was younger.” says Lacey.

And despite her beauty. No friends. No boys. …Just horror at home. Money that seems to always come out of nowhere. And-

“Epic loneliness.” says Lem.

“She goes to the bathroom. Looks in the mirror and sees her face. Wonders why at least young men don’t occasionally love her. …But it is what it is.” says Louis.

“Who is she looking nice for?” asks Reta of Louis.

“She doesn’t know.” says Louis smiling.

“You used to get at least pretty good grades. In the best classes.” says a peer who hated her. Convinced her that she might be objectively vile, superficially speaking.

“But you don’t look vile.” says the female hater with venom.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Your tone is baffling.” says Lacey.

They snicker. It’s obviously true. But it’s too mature. Too smart. Too nuanced. …And they essentially want to kill her.

“What do you mean by ‘My tone is baffling?’” asks the hater.

“Are you insulting me or trying to guilt-trip me? And if you are insulting me what’s the insult? And if you are guilt-tripping me…why do you assume I have any idea what you’re talking about? …Am I supposed to take the insult in an intuitive, psychic way? Like poetry? …If I do…it just makes me feel like absolute objective shit. …And that’s the perspective you gave me. But it was massively inaccurate. You were actually an ugly toad compared to me. …But I truly didn’t know that.” says Lacey. “I chalked it all up to my pimples. And tried to imagine what it was about my face that you all hated to be able to honestly accept it in a humble, strong way.”

“You looked Norwegian.” says a hater’s objectively witchy looking mother.

“And so all Norwegians are ugly?” Lacey asks as a child sincerely. “Hmm. Maybe they are.” she muses calmly to herself.

The music plays on.

“I was just winging it.” confesses The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“When you insulted me?!” asks Lacey.

“Yes.” she confesses.

“That’s what it seemed like. …But that doesn’t make any sense…“ says Lacey.

“Why?!” asks her mother.

“Because she has such gravity and force behind her insults. The haters always do and have. …It truly feels like they’re really supposed to mean something. But…they’re just mind boggling. And…creepy. And so violent.” says Lacey. “It’s like being told gibberish is language with the light of Christ supposedly asserting it’s true.”

“Like what sort of language??” asks Paul Turton.

“Like symbols. Not words. Physical gestures.” says Lacey.

“No written words?!” he asks.

“No. It’s been guesswork my whole life.” says Lacey.

“So your mind is always decoding?” asks a Freemason.

“That’s been my whole life.” says Lacey.

“Your mother who raised you occasionally knew what you were actually thinking and feeling. But otherwise you’ve been left…entirely alone.” says a female Freemason.

“No friends who didn’t secretly hate her. No dances. No boyfriends. No fun.” says Joe Jr.. He fumes. “This is why I don’t leave, Lem!!! …You never get it! You can’t expect her to magically just know what other people would. …Just because you find her attractive and would have let down your guard and made love to her doesn’t indicate anything conclusive to her. It’s a fascinating thing. She cares about you. Possibly more lovingly and empathetically than most people…but…it doesn’t clearly indicate anything.”

“How are you more loving than me?” asks a counselor who once hoped Lacey was a sociopath but then worked it out that she wasn’t. “I worry I can’t help you.” she said in a snobbish, cruel tone. “Then she expected $150 for her time. $200 today. Typical experience.” explains Joe Jr.. “Her ex-husband forgot to pay for her last session. Then she ghosted her.”

“No. That actually happened.” says Lacey.

Where I End And You Begin plays.

And then Michael asserts his dominance.

“I would have helped you.” he says to Lacey.

A hurricane starts in her living-room. Swirling beautifully. Papers blowing up and into the air then falling back down to the floor. The wind rising.

“Why didn’t she learn to drive! That’s-that’s poor and evil!!” asserts a young woman about Lacey.

“It just didn’t work out.” says Lacey kindly. No expectation for empathy.

The woman looks irate. “Why not?! That was your job! You should have made it happen. You’re an irresponsible demon from Hell!” she yells at Lacey like she’s Satan herself.

“Did you try?” asks the Native American woman.

“I took driving classes. Finished them. But then my father who raised me got scared when I took the wheel and drove over 20 miles per an hour.” she says. “He literally almost had a panic attack. I had two more chances to drive after that. But the people hated Mr secretly and flaked out. A pastor offered once…but then also flaked out. And so I focused on other things thinking I’d attend to that later.”

“And really you just wanted to die anyway?” asks a counselor. “So why don’t you just die? I hate you. You’re too pretty.” She sighs. “Do you have any idea how much better my life would be if you killed yourself?! You are such a burden.”

“Why?” asks Rocky.

“Who are you?!” the female counselor asks him. “Her handler?! I know you people are just street trash and I’m secretly superior.”

“Why are…you…secretly superior?” asks Jack of the female counselor.

“Because I was raised well. And my family are humble, god-fearing Baptists.” she says in her spirit.

“Mmm. Your claims of superiority are dubious, at best.” says Michael Rockefeller.

“I lose?!?” asks the female counselor in her spirit. She looks surprised and a bit deflated. A bit gloomy.

“Yes.” says Michael slightly apologetically. “But that’s okay.”

“No!!! It’s not!” she says in horror.

White Flag plays. The LGBTQ Community is fighting with Lacey, they’ve decide. They’ve also decided Dido is on their side in this case. Why wouldn’t she be?! She’s not as cool as them…with her cis vagina…and all that stupid old-fashioned shit…but…God is on the side of LOVE.

“Why?!? Why did you assholes feel the need to interrupt right now?!?” asks Louis.

“We aren’t assholes! We’re the light of God. We are the Holy Spirit!” they say seriously in their spirits.

“Oh wow!” says a Jew.

“Why are you fighting with Lacey?” asks Michael.

“Because an attack on us is being conducted by her vagina.” they say seriously.

“How?” asks Jack, forced to speak after being pinned down by Lem.

“Because by seducing Lem into heterosexuality she’s going to make us all cease to exist gradually over time. It’s a disease. And spiritually our guides will all turn straight. And then we’ll turn straight. And then we’ll be straight.” They hyperventilate. “And then…”. They hyperventilate more. “And then we’ll all cease to exist!!! She’s HITLER!”

“Umm…my class fear makes sense.” says the female counselor in her spirit. “How is her claiming Lem was possibly straight affect you all this way? I’m logically lost.”

“She could still be Jack reincarnated! Calm down!!” yells a gay man, flailing to the ground. “It’s a false alarm!!!!” he says.

“It’s a demon. I can still be a Christian.” says another gay man.

“Umm. I’m pretty sure she’s just a loser who’s too ugly to get a date.” says another gay man with the seeming authority of seeming absolute truth in his voice.

“But she’s unlovable!!! She’s nit ugly! She’s a hideous person!” he says matter-of-factly, hoping she’s Jack reincarnated.

“But I’m missing how her claiming Lem was possibly straight is so offensive.” says the counselor.

“Because he’s our Cinderella!!! He’s OURS!!! He’s GAY!!!!” they scream bloody murder.

Satan laughs in Lem’s face. Spits in his eyes.

“There is no Satan!” says one of the gay men. “Satan is a myth! Lem is in love and happy and saving Jack’s life as we speak. And Lacey is suffering because she can’t accept that simple…FACT!” he says losing his temper.

“Are they perpetually fucking?” asks a witch.

“Yes! He’s our Lord and Savior.” says a gay man in his spirit. “Lem saves us. Every January. It’s his honor and pleasure as a gentleman.” The gay men twirl like little girls in tutus.

“You’re not little girls. You’re fools.” says Lem.

“No, no! Keep dancing.” says Michael.

“No! You weren’t gay. You were straight.” they say to Michael. “Neither was Jack. Lem was the only true gay man to ever exist.” they say in their spirits.

“Damn!” says a Mark. “Wow! Go on?”

Old Money plays.

“He was the gayest soul. More gay than anything or anyone.” says an aging gay man. “He is homosexuality at its core. He’s our soul.”

Tennessee Williams laughs.

“No!!! You weren’t gay!” they say to Tennessee Williams.

“I wasn’t?!” he asks.

“No!” they say like it’s fact.

“You’re an idiot! You don’t get my glory!” Mr. Blue yells at Lacey.

Lacey’s daughter chokes on water she’s drinking.

“To terrorize me?!” asks Lacey. “That’s just Satan. You’re not creating anything. You’re just sending yourself to Hell and Satan is helping you because he hates you.”

“Lem was gay!!!” yell the homosexuals.

Mr. Blue stands in a river staring blankly at Lacey stupidly.

“Why wasn’t Michael ever queer? Explain.” says Tennessee Williams.

“Because Jack and him were white, rich and normal. And…handsome. …And boring. Lem was a mess. A feminine mess.” say the gay men. They look sad. “He was like…so sexy. But…a mess. A brilliant mess. And he fought so victoriously for Jack to just feel a little bit loved. Sometimes. And he was an amazing cook. Artistic. …Sensitive.” they say fondly.

“How many kids did Lem have?” asks Lacey.

They think. “He wanted to birth four. But he could only have two or three?” one gay man says.

“Huh.” says Michael.

“Who got him pregnant?” asks Tennessee Williams.

“Who got Lem pregnant?” asks a gay man.

“Yeah!” says a Ron Craft.

“Huh. Lacey?” says one of them grinning, playfully.

“No, really. Who does it seem like?” asks Lacey.

“Lem got himself pregnant.” they say.

“Really?!” asks a woman with men by multiple fathers.

“Umm. No. It wasn’t ever Jack.” they admit.

“Was it one of his boyfriends?” she asks.

“No.” they grimace.

“Then who?!” asks Ron Craft.

“Me!” says Michael. “It seems like me.”

They think.

“Except, how…did I get a man pregnant?” asks Michael.

“He’s got a uterus and a vagina.” they sincerely believe and say.

“How tall was he?” asks a living gay man.

“5 feet…9 inches?” says one group.

“6 feet…10 inches?” says another.

“6 feet…4 inches.” says a living bisexual man.

“What color were her eyes?” asks Paul Wellstone.

Washing Machine Heart plays.

They think.

They think more.

“Brown.” say the gay men. “Blue?”

“Brown.” says a straight man on their behalf.

“What perfume did he wear?” asks Paul Wellstone.

“Something sexy. And of that time. But tasteful.” they say seriously.

“Like what?” asks Lacey.

“Balmain? Or no! Something white floral and animalic?” they say. “Lem liked to be so arousing. But he also played it tasteful and cool.”

“But he fucked a Rockefeller!” says Michael.

“Are you saying he was a whore?!” ask the gay men in their spirits.

“No. We were in love and in a committed relationship.” says Michael. “I mean, if it was just me and Lem. That’s the only explanation. Isn’t it?!”

“No Tennessee Williams.” they admit.

“He wasn’t gay!” says Gore Vidal. “That’s what you decided about Tennessee Williams.”

“So…we got married?” Michael asks about him and Lem.

“Michael died?” asks a Tik Tokker facetiously.

“Maybe Michael never died!” says one of the gay men in response.

“Yeah. Maybe. And they had two kids?” asks the Tik Tokker.

Don’t Panic plays.

“Were they in love?” ask the gay men.

“We were soulmates. And he’d wear black lace for me at night. With Fabergé Tigress. And roast chickens. And…comb his long light brown hair. His breasts were always a thing of splendor. …And his lips? Always waiting for me. Tender. Sad.” says Michael. “His low laugh…sounded irreverent and foolish. Intentionally. To suggest defiance of gender oppression. Because…as a woman…Lacey…knew oppression.” He sighs. “She was never really Lem. You know? …People thought she was a closeted gay man. Angry. In love with Jack. From New York. …A poor family? With a farm? …Hiding something? …But what if she was straight? And he was too? …And I never slept with him?”

“They need Lem to be gay in your living family?” asks a Native American of Joe Jr..

“Ego. Money. And no one wants to be honest about our only US President.” says Joe. “Should this be true.”

“Money how?!” asks the Native American woman.

“Lacey, I think you have a huge addiction to truth.” says an English actress.

“Michael is her enabler.” says an Englishman.

“Nah! Louis is a problem too.” says the Native American woman.

“Is Lem dabbling these days too?!” asks a relative of his with feigned concern.

“Money. You know? Greenbacks? Dough.” says Joe Sr. to the Native American woman.

“But how?” asks the Native American woman.

Pictures of Me by Elliott Smith plays.

“We need a good byline. A good product. We are our product. Lem has been a great line. …Discontinuing him would be…costly.” says J. P.. “His popularity has grown exponentially over the years.”

“So he’s been an investment?” asks the Native American woman.

“Yes!! Very much so.” says J. P..

“Why can’t you reformulate Jack?” asks the Native American woman.

“It’s a problem. We have so much in our JFK product line.” says J. P..

A woman nods understanding. “I get it. He’s supposed to be the cis, straight dude.”

“Very successful product! Super profitable.” says J. P.. “It’s our best selling product actually. Although Jackie did well too!!” he says and thinks of it.

“So relabeling Lem is too much to ask. Especially considering he only might be talking to Lacey from the living side’s perspective.” offers a business minded woman.

“Is there any evidence suggesting he’s actually gay?!” asks a dead cigarette company executive.

“Like cigarettes are healthy?!” asks Joe Sr.. “Should he have been straight.”

“No.” says Joe Sr..

“Okay, but if he was straight…he’s clearly at a huge disadvantage with Michael.” says a gay man.

“False advertising pays when it’s all just meaningless fun anyway.” says a Monsanto executive.

Louis smiles in catharsis.

Myth by Beach House plays.

Michael looks at Lacey. In 1961. Should he approach her or not? Lem has been bringing her gin and tonic all night. She’s on her third. But she doesn’t seem drunk.

Michael closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

Lem sees.

Lacey doesn’t see.

Lem walks over to Lacey, and asks if she’d like to go for a walk with him.

“Whatever.” she says. “Joe won’t care.” she says getting up. Her fiancé is off with a crowd of women.

And just then in 2023 a little girl or boy with dark hair darts into Lacey’s room and moves the French door further open before ducking down and hiding. Just like one of her own kids. Lacey assumes it’s one of her kids. It isn’t a living child.

“They’re fine!” a Maeve says to Lacey when Lacey asks God (who exists) if the child, should it be one, is okay.

Monsanto inhales and exhales, exasperated.

“Money is money.” J. P. says to them sympathetically. “No! That child moved the door.” he says to Monsanto, seriously.

“They were playing hide and go seek.” says Joe Sr..

“Why did they interrupt?” asks Monsanto.

“You know why.” confesses J. P..

Monsanto rolls his eyes. “That’s not what we agreed to.”

Should Purgatory exist they’re accountability partners. Or they’ve become that over the years.

Bach blows air out of his mouth in utter exasperation. He empathizes with Lacey.

“Why can’t they figure it out? When do I have love?!” asks Lacey seriously.

“I agree!” he says.

“What does one do in this situation?” she asks him.

“Lem doesn’t understand.” he says crying.

It hurts at first, brutally. But then, as per usual, she gets over it.

“It’s so simple.” she says to J. S. Bach.

Benjamin Franklin agrees.

“He’s listening!” says Lem sarcastically, caustically to Lacey.

“No, you can’t shout at her like that. You’re despicable!” says J. S. Bach to Lem.

Benjamin Franklin agrees again, peacefully.

“I’m hurt!!!!” yells Lem.

Bach looks at him like he’s insane. “Shh!” he says. “Think. What has she told you?”

Lem takes a breath and thinks.

He smiles. “It doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Then why did you create the mess?” asks Bach.

“I understand. I do. It’s just that I can’t make their love go away.” says Lem.

“Then you shouldn’t have created the mess.” says Bach.

“You can’t undo it. And she understands that. That’s why she faces it.” says Benjamin Franklin.

“You don’t have to be so brave. Not as much as her. She can just love Harold or Louis or maybe Michael for eternity. They’re not as scared. They have nothing to hide?” says Bach.

“I’m not hiding anything.” he says crying to Bach.

“Right, young man. But…she’s not okay. And how do you help?” he asks.

“Hey! Did you hear about the story about how much Lem got jealous over JFK!!?” asks a rival of Tommy Banks who harasses Lacey everyday endlessly. He reveals himself.

He laughs as Summertime Sadness says, “That’s not possible!! Ghosts don’t exist! There’s no way! No way!!!” Then he texts Summertime Sadness more, “Okay! She’s a slut who practices witchcraft or I’m a wrong and Nee Age people know better than me. She can’t be right. I cannot be wrong about the way I interpreted that. I’m BRILLIANT!”

“Oh no, he is smart.” says Lacey.

“Oh yeah!? You think so?!” says the former mobster to Lacey.

“It seems so.” says Lacey.

“What I do know? I’m just a-“ says the dead man.

“Why are you attacking me?” she asks.

“Ask your father!” he yells.

“I don’t want to.” she says.

He laughs.

“Why can’t you tell me?” she asks.

He shrugs.

“You can’t tell me?!” she asks.

“The homosexuals.” he says. “Sounds demented. But that’s what it boils down to.”

“Does it matter?” asks Lacey.

“The war they declared on your soul?” he asks.

“No!” yells Louis.

“Hey! I’m being tortured!” says the dead monster. Lacey prays for grace for him if she can.

Apologize plays.

“I wanted a pussy to screw every night.” says Michael to Lem.

The dead mobster nods.

“But you wanted to be GLORIFIED!” Lacey says to Lem. “Shake that huge ass horny for Just Jack!”

Flashing Lights by Kayne West plays.

Elliott Smith shakes his shoulders.

“Shake it baby! Do your thang!” says the dead mobster to Lem.

“You like cock not pussy? Right you horny slut?!” asks a gay man who died of AIDS of Lem.

“Here’s your bedazzled Birkin! Awww! You made to the moving pictures. You hot piece of ass! Damn!” she hands him the bag. “The heels by Louboutin are in the back. The maid to wipe your ass will drop by at 12:00. Isn’t this what you signed-up for? You look upset.” she says to Lem.

He refuses to respond.

Elliott gets down to business dancing.

“What? It’s all about the Benefits and Benjamins, you hoe!” she winks.

“But gay marriages weren’t legal!” says Louis.

“He didn’t want to settle down.” says Lacey. “He made that clear according to homosexuals. And he also put an enormous emphasis on that bedroom in the White House and elite circle travel with Jack. He was advocating not just for so-called homosexual liberation but profound materialism and loose romantic relationships based on emotional bullshit.”

She gets into his face.

“I aim to please my customers.” she says before spitting in his face.

“She really does. It’s a matter of honor for her. And no she doesn’t mean prostitution. She means the way you used her soul to sex prep for your buddy Jack Kennedy. Your very best friend forever. Isn’t that what this is? Sex prep? You use her to get your dick harder so his Addison’s can feel better? That’s what they told us.” says the dead mobster. He shrugs.

“Yeah, but then what was that whole business about Joe being in love with me?” Lacey asks the dead mobster.

“It was part of the sex prep.” he says.

Lacey sighs. “Huh. So…wow! You and Jack are like…top sex experts!” Lacey says to Lem feigning humility.

“They’re the best in eternity. Almost.” says Louis.

“Yeah. It’s common knowledge.” Elliott Smith says to Lacey in feigned awe of them.

“Oh! Sorry.” she says with seriousness to Lem. “Well, whatever expert sex you two do that my shit brain can never hope to get a million miles close to fathoming, I hope to someday come close to being able to apologize for not being able to help perfecting.” says Lacey.

“It’s what makes the world go round. It’s why when Jack was shot he was so so soo sad.” says Elliott Smith.

“Oh! The lesbians knew. They too are superior ones.” says Lacey.

“We did. We are too in awe of Lem and Jack thigh. The butthole evaporates and Lem does cartwheels in ecstasy.” the lesbians explain.

“Oh my! But Jack has such a sacrificial sex role then? It’s all about Lem’s pleasure!”wonders Lacey.

“The oral sex he performs isn’t like us. Like…our mouths are lowly by comparison right? So when Lem does it it gets him off with an orgasm a woman could only dream of.” the lesbian says as she nods, agreeing.

“Wow!!! They lie about that.” Lacey says.

“The homosexual men?” asks Elliott Smith.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“Well…with our shit brains we can’t handle it. If we knew we’d lose our minds with jealousy.” says the lesbian.

“Oh!!” says Lacey. “Thanks for explaining.”

Lem stands holding his baddy-Birkin.

Zebra plays.

“Lem…we apologize if we made a mistake. Should you have been straight and not just mocking Lacey’s hellish life for fun with Jack like the obviously entitled, cool jocks of Hyannis you are…from the worldwide land of Kennedy-US circa 1940…we apologize for inconveniencing you at all.” says Michael Rockefeller.

He rises.

“Say, when I advised you to apologize to her a while ago and you chose not to…I thought it was sad. Because I do love her. And as much as I love my other possible mate for eternity…I can’t resist Lacey. Literally. And she apparently can’t resist me. So…we might get stuck together for eternity. And we can love each other. God can redeem it. …But…I thought you loved her more? And she gets the concept but not the love for her. Lem…I can still reach her. And…it’s ugly. What you did was ugly. She should never have been expected to magically understand. Louis and I don’t hate you. But we hate your hatred of us.” says Michael.

“Why did she love you more in that moment??” Lem asks Michael.

“She didn’t, Lem!” says Louis.

“She thought of you!!” Michael yells at Lem.

Lem stands with his baddy-Birkin thinking. Elliott Smith and a dead mobster stare at him.

Burial by Miike Snow plays.

“Then why?!” he asks Michael.

“She’s-“. Michael laughs. Closes his eyes. Collects himself.

“Lem, what don’t you understand?! If you’re really straight.” says Louis.

Standing with his baddy-Birkin, strobe light overhead…Who Am I (What’s My Name) by Snoop Dogg playing Lem’s father appears. He stands in front of him awkwardly.

“Lem, we need to talk.” his father says.

Lem looks mortified.

And at that Lem’s father indicates to him to put down the baddy-Birkin. Lem does. Then he awkwardly points to the door. Lem leaves with his father.

…

They had The Talk, of course.

Three hours later. Lem walks in smiling happily.

Then he walks up to Louis and punches him in the face. Then walks over to Michael and simply shakes his head. Then punches him too.

Both men take the punch. Michael smiles.

“If you want to come home I’ll be here waiting.” Lem says. “I’m sorry.” he says sadly before running to the bathroom to throw-up.

“No, it’s not that.” says Michael to the living Illuminati who struggle to blame Lacey. “Our love is sincere.”

“Michael! We need to talk!” say the so-called “the gays.”

“About what?” he asks.

“Okay, I did a quick internet search and turns out you were either gay or bi. Just like Lacey suggests. Seemingly. Why are we attacking Lacey?” they ask.

“Because you’re demon possessed.” says Louis.

Michael refuses to respond.

“So people can actually fake being homosexual?! I thought that was scientifically impossible.” say a group of gay men seriously. “People would never do that. It’s so unlikely. We’re oppressed. There’s no reason to.”

“They could get psychologically disoriented or psychotic or just really confused.” says A. Heche.

“Molestation can be very difficult to process.” says Elliott smith.

“But Lem wasn’t!” says a Liberal Democrat.

…

Mr. Blue stands in the water near East Palestine, reaches in and drunks it.

“It’s yummy! Takes just like candy.” says Mr. Blue seriously. “There are a great many things we lie about today, but the health and safety of our citizens isn’t one of them.” He blinks and blinks. “Lem was gay, in love with Jack and Lacey made up all of the claims of his molestation. I was that priest. And I was a swell guy. That’s what my witch friend told me.” He blinks a lot again. “In 1998 this water was almost clear and now it’s tasty. So in coordination with my friends I’ve decided to bring it to your home.” A video of a man in a flannel shirt in a nice kitchen drinking the water plays. “I don’t want you to miss out. We have nothing to worry about! The water tastes good.” He smiles. “It takes sophistication and guts to embrace the future. Now, in this era of Trump and temptation…when the sky is green and bibbydot. I flagsmoz.”

Sea Change by Stephan Moccio plays.

He looks confused into the camera.

“Here! It’s over here!” someone yells from off-camera at him.

He squints into the camera.

“Okay! I see it now!” he says. He smiles oddly before looking suddenly morose. “Just buy this shit! Okay?!?! …You stupid idiots!” he yells.

Then in an increasing stupor he squints more, takes steps backward and falls into the river. But he doesn’t get up. He just sits there staring blankly at the camera. Finally he says, “It’s shallow here. And cool. Like a river!!”

A video of water running over a waterfall plays.

“Is he okay?!” a producer asks.

End of live commercial.

…