Interstate 60

There is this theory.

Given an infinite universe

And infinite time...

all things will happen.

That means that every event is inevitable

including those that are impossible.

that's as good explanation

for all this as anything else.

Now, a lot of stories start in bars,

so that's where we are going to stars this one.

Not because that I was there.

I wasn't.

But because it is a damn good

introduction to a very unique...

fellow.

Legends of every major culture

all contain some sort of character

whose purpose is to grant wishes.

except Americas.

The Arabs have Jinni's...

The Irish have Leprechauns...

The Chinese have dragons and monkeys...

The Europeans have fairies and wood spirits.

Who do we have?

Santa Claus?

Santa Claus just brings presents.

He doesn't grant wishes.

Satan. He grants wishes.

Zak, Satan predates American culture.

He doesn't grant wishes, he makes deals.

All right, I give up.

- What do we have here?

- No one.

That's my thesis.

Our culture is unique in having no such mythology.

Oh, you're wrong my friend.

Excuse me?

There is a fella in America,

who grants wishes.

And only one to a customer.

And who is this fella?

O.W. Grant.

That's his usual name.

He's got many others.

And he's an elusive sun of a b*tch.

You'd get easier time

finding a Jinni.

So how come, we've never heard

of this O.W. Grant?

You haven't heard O.W. Grant,

'cause America, is a much younger place than

Ireland or Arabia.

Not too many people have had the chance to meet up with him.

Let me guess.

You have.

I met him out at Interstate 60.

Accidentally. That's his way.

Folks don't find him, he finds them.

He just kinda happens in to them,

and they don't know who he is or what he does...

until he does it.

And mostly messes with them, plays tricks,

'cause that's his way too,

but sometimes...

if he takes a shine to you...

he'll play it straight.

Now, one story says

that his daddy was a Leprechaun...

came over here with Irish.

Now, midgets are notorious skirt chasers

This leprechaun goes and knocks up a Cheyenne Indian...

Cheyenne get the land taken away

in the end up with the immortal, nomadic

half-breed with magical powers.

- Interstate 60, you said?

- Hmmmn

So, what does this O.W. Grant look like?

Red bow tie.

He smokes a pipe,

curved in the image of a monkey.

Maybe you'd be better of writing your theses

without mentioning O.W.

He'd probable rather not have

people knownin' about him.

You got it.

Good night.

Hey Quincy, check this out

There is no Interstate 60.

I 65, 64, 66, and 69.

No I 60.

I guess tonight's everybody's full-of-sh*t night.

Guy with a red bow tie and a monkey pipe,

who grants wishes...

Right.

No, damn it, look,

I need, that bid in before twelve...

Yeah it's critical, just...

Right, call West...

Holy sh*t!

Broken jaw.

I'm sorry mister,

I didn't see you.

Are, are you OK

come on?

Are you all right?

Jesus.

Don't!

Stop!

Oh man!

My bike!

Look, I'm sorry.

I'll pay

Oh God damn it!

Oh God damn it!

Look at my suit.

Oh sh*t...

Oh f***.

I've got a sales meeting at 11 o'clock.

This is a f***in' disaster.

My phone is my f***in life line.

God damn it!

Oh I say everything happens

for a reason.

May I guess,

I just needed a new bike.

I, for one, did not need this sh*t

in my life.

Not today.

Of all f***in days!

Oh God damn it!

I wish, this had never happened!

I wish, it hadn't happened... I wish, it hadn't happened!

Was that your wish?

If you had a wish,

you wished, this hadn't happened?

F***in A right!

Granted!

Mr. Baker.

How did you know my name?

Damn it, I need the bid in before 12...

yeah it's critical...

look, just call West

have him fax the timesheet to the main office...

Get it there by ...

Speak up, I can't hear you.

Some people just don't know what to wish for.

As for my part in this story,

well, it began on a Tuesday.

September 18th.

My birthday.

My 22nd birthday to be exact.

Oh, I'm Neal Oliver.

And this mess, is my apartment

in St. Louis. Missouri.

Where at this particular moment

I was at MajorDecision.com.

Should I wear a tie to lunch?

Damn.

Happy birthday Neal...

Sweet

Truth.

You are not mad,

that I'm bailing on you tonight?

No, no no no.

I mean how cool it you be for you,

to bomb your psyche-test because of some stupid concert

No aah. You have got to wait until lunch.

That's your family rules.

But you can open this.

I intercepted your snail mail.

It's the reality check.

I'm game over on the art scholarship.

We should at least open it.

I can tell a rejection by weight.

You are the wrong sex, the wrong colour

and your family has too much money. I'm sorry.

Just don't, don't mention anything

to my old man, please.

You are so weird.

What?

Well, you actually suppose to cut your grapefruit in half

and eat it with a spoon

not peel it, and eat it like an orange.

Oh look... it's her.

Again.

Should I be like jealous?

Oh, maybe if she was real.

So, I had another dream about her,

last night.

She was in jail...

it's got to mean something.

I'll tell you what it means.

You saw her once somewhere

and made a subconscious impression,

the impression came back to you in a dream,

so you drew her

which made the impression stronger.

You dream, you draw, you draw, you dream

Now it's a vicious cycle.

So quit drawing her, and it'll end.

Well, thank you Karl Young.

Fact is, I enjoy drawing her.

But, am I...

Am I any good at this Sally?

'cause today is the deadline of the Conrad Competition.

Should I even enter these?

Don't ask me Neal.

I don't want to be judgmental.

But I do know, that just because you enjoy doing something,

doesn't necessarily mean that you should make it your career.

Here,

No worries.

As I said it all started on my 22nd birthday.

Specifically here.

At my traditional birthday lunch.

As always, my father had picked the restaurant.

Attending with the usual suspects.

Sally, who my parents actually liked

maybe even more than I did.

My dad. Daniel.

Attorney at law.

My mom Marlene.

The attorneys wife.

And my sister

and best friend Nancy.

Put on earth by the grace of God,

to keep me from going insane.

So what did you wish for?

Please tell me that it was something about us.

I'm guessing...

He wished to go skydiving again.

God forbid.

Oh no, no. Neal you didn't.

Why, if I tell her, it won't come true.

Actually that's an old wives' tale.

The truth is, you should always tell your wish.

Kinda Carma thing.

Put it out there, project it.

Then it just might come true.

Never heard that before.

Oh, it's true.

Believe me.

I know.

I'll cut this for you.

OK, so now you have to tell us.

Yeah, come on, tell us Neilo.

I wished for...

an answer.

An answer, OK

an answer to what?

An answer to my life.

Here it is.

Happy birthday son.

Your admission to the Bradford Law Fellowship.

Just do the interview next month, on October 15th,

and you're in.

It's all arranged.

By me.

And you can take that to the bank.

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