Stranger Than Fiction Page #5

at the comedy-tragedy thing.

In fact, I think she likes me even less.

- I know, it's great.

- What do you mean?

You've proved something else

entirely.

The voice seems to be dependent

on actions you take.

You reset your watch,

it says you reset your watch.

You ride a bus,

it says you ride the bus.

You brush your teeth,

it says you brush your teeth.

It may be that you yourself

are perpetuating the story.

- So I suggest we try something else.

- Like what?

- Try nothing. Nothing.

- What about Ms. Pascal?

- Forget her.

- Forget her?

Other than numbers,

she's all I think about.

Harold, if you wanna stay alive,

you'll try something else.

- That something being nothing?

- Nothing, exactly.

- Nothing?

- Let me explain this again.

Some plots are moved forward

by external events and crises.

Others are moved forward

by the characters themselves.

If I go through that door,

the plot continues.

The story of me through the door.

If I stay here...

...the plot can't move forward,

the story ends.

Also if I stay here, I'm late.

- Don't do anything tomorrow.

- Nothing?

Stay home. Don't answer the phone,

open the door, brush your teeth.

- What about work?

- Call them.

- Tell them you're not coming.

- Don't go to work?

Don't do anything that may

move the plot forward.

Instead, let's see if the plot finds you.

Marshall, you're not kicking.

- certain that these geese have never

known any home but this one:

A small lake in Eastern Poland.

Pollution from a nearby factory

is slowly killing...

... the small fish and insects

on which these creatures feed.

All attempts to move the birds to

similar bodies of water have failed.

Perhaps it is the familiarity alone

that keeps them here.

Or perhaps it's an unwillingness

to lose the collective memory...

... of the once-beautiful hills

that surround the lake.

And it takes only seconds

for the fiddler crabs to realize...

... that the wader

they might once have feared...

... has now become their prey.

The wounded bird knows its fate.

Its desperate attempts to escape...

... only underscore the hopelessness

of its plight.

The primates' sad, soulful eyes

will be the first to be plucked out...

... then sold to cosmetic companies

around the world...

... for use in the testing of mascara

and artificial tears.

Next, the monkeys' fur will be stripped

away from their limp corpses...

... and sewn together

to form pillows and comforters.

Mr. Zebra thought he was gonna

take a nice drink.

But you never know

who's gonna eat...

... when you're dining

at Mother Nature's restaurant.

That's gotta hurt. What does

this bald eagle wanna serve...

... with some kidney beans

and a fine Chianti?

It's an eel. And again:

Looks like old Mr. Crocodile

wanted some antelope...

... to clear that salty zebra

from his palate.

Here's a struggle betting gentlemen

have been known to put money on.

When a mongoose encounters a cobra

it's hard to know who's gonna win.

But this time it looks like

it's... the cobra...

... who's putting the squeeze

on the mongoose!

But don't cash in your chips

just yet, gentlemen...

... because now it's the mongoose

who holds the winning card!

Hey! Hey!

Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?!

- Holy crapping hell.

- What the hell is that?

- Stop the crane. Stop it.

- Stop the crane!

- Hey.

- Hey, what are you doing?

Us? What are you doing?

I was watching TV.

- Well, we're demolishing this place.

- Are you nuts? I live here!

- Is that a TV?

- Yes, that's a TV! It's my TV!

- Well, what's your TV doing in there?

- I said I live here, stupid!

It's where I keep my stuff!

My name's on the goddamn buzzer!

Harold Crick.

Apartment 2-B, 1893 McCarthy!

- Did you say 1893?

- Yes!

I'm not exactly sure it was plot.

I was hoping you'd say it was

just a really bad coincidence.

Meeting an insurance agent the day

your policy runs out is coincidence.

Getting a letter from the emperor

saying that he's visiting is plot.

Having your apartment eaten

by a wrecking ball...

...is something else entirely.

Harold, you don't control your fate.

- I know.

- You do?

Okay. Come with me.

Hey, Tom, can you leave that

till tomorrow?

You were right.

This narrator might very well kill you...

...so I humbly suggest that you just

forget all this and go live your life.

Go live my life? I am living my life.

I'd like to continue to live my life.

I know. Of course. I mean all of it.

However long you have left.

You know, I mean, Howard,

you could use it to have an adventure.

You know, invent something, or just

finish reading Crime and Punishment.

Hell, Harold, you could just eat

nothing but pancakes if you wanted.

What's wrong with you?

Hey. I don't wanna eat

nothing but pancakes. I wanna live.

Who in their right mind in a

choice between pancakes and living...

...chooses pancakes?

Harold, if you'd pause to think

I believe you'd realize...

...that that answer's

inextricably contingent...

...upon the type of life being led...

...and, of course,

the quality of the pancakes.

You don't understand

what I'm saying.

Yes, I do.

But you have to understand that this

isn't a philosophy or a literary theory...

...or a story to me. It's my life.

Absolutely. So just go make it the one

you've always wanted.

I never expected

that they would have--

- Do you want one, two?

- I want one.

- One?

- I want two.

All right, so here's your room.

Or as I like to call it, Sleep Pod Two.

Thanks, Dave.

No problem, dude.

It'll be nice having you around.

- How long you planning on staying?

- I'm not sure.

Dave, can I pose a somewhat abstract,

purely hypothetical question?

Sure.

If you knew you were gonna die...

...possibly soon...

...what would you do?

Wow, I don't know.

Am I the richest man in the world?

No, you're you.

Do I have a superpower?

No, you're you.

I know I'm me,

but do I have a superpower?

No, why would you

have a superpower?

I don't know,

you said it was hypothetical.

Fine. Yes. You're really good at math.

That's not a power, that's a skill.

Okay, you're good at math

and you're invisible.

- And you know you're gonna die.

- Okay, okay.

That's easy, I'd go to space camp.

Space camp?

Yeah, it's in Alabama. It's where kids

go to learn how to become astronauts.

I've always wanted to go

since I was 9.

You're invisible

and you'd go to space camp?

I didn't pick invisible,

you picked invisible.

Aren't you too old

to go to space camp?

You're never too old

to go to space camp, dude.

Space camp.

One hundred and twenty-two

guitars.

Seven hundred and thirty-two

strings.

Two hundred and fifty-seven

pickups.

One hundred and eighty-nine

volume knobs.

Here Harold stood, face to face

with his oldest desire.

And stand is almost all Harold did.

It wasn't just about finding

a guitar.

It was about finding a guitar

that said something about Harold.

Unfortunately, this guitar said:

"When I get back to Georgia,

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