Original subtitles

You are about to enter another dimension. A dimension not only of sight

and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination.

Next stop, the Twilight Zone.

In the parlance of the 20th century, this is an oddball.

His name is James B.W. Beavis, and his tastes lean toward stuffed animals,

zither music, professional football, Charles Dickens, moose heads, carnivals,

dogs, children, and young ladies.

Mr. Beavis is accident-prone, a little vague, a little discombobulated, with a

life that possesses all the security of a floating crap game.

But this can be said of our Mr. Beavis.

Without him, without his warmth, without his kindness, the world would be a

considerably poorer place, albeit perhaps a little saner.

Why not?

Should it not be obvious by now, James B.W. Beavis is a fixture in his own

private, optimistic, hopeful little world.

A world which has long ceased being surprised by him.

James B.W. Beavis, on whom Dame Fortune will shortly turn her back.

But not before she gives him a paste in the mouth.

Mr. James B.W. Beavis, just one block away from the Twilight Zone.

Will you please tell the gentleman who occupies this museum and livestock

exhibit I should like to see him when he finally deigns to report for work.

Mr. Beavis, Mr. Peckinpah wants to see you.

Um, hi.

I'll be brief, Beavis.

You keep a ledger like an ape. Your desk is an affront to any concept of orderly

symmetry. Your eccentricities are beyond any kind of understanding.

You're bringing phonograph records of zither music... to play during the

afternoon you're hiring christmas carolers to come in and serenade the

office during our busiest hour

The sack, Mr.

Beavis?

The sack.

This is the sixth job I've lost this year, Margaret.

Well, the best laid plans of mice and men.

And Beavis.

I'll help you pack, Mr. Beavis.

I was building this for one of the kids.

It's old Ironside.

The Constitution.

Well, she won't get launched today, that's for sure. Old Ironsides will get

launched. You'll get another job, Mr. Beavis. You always have.

The only job I've ever held for more than six months was during the Second

World War when I was in the Navy.

Here.

This is me next to the fantail.

Oh, he's fat, isn't he?

That's the bosun's mate. This is the fantail.

Yours? Does it do this often?

Well, it never has before.

It's always been kind of like an old friend to me.

Well, I'll phone for the tow truck.

Do that.

Officer, you wouldn't be interested in purchasing a Rickenbacker, would you?

It's a late 24.

No, thanks.

I kind of got my eye on a 27 Maxwell, but I'm going to wait until the new

models come out because that way I can get a better deal.

Officer, did you ever have one of those days?

Not like this.

Hi, boys.

Hello, Mrs. Chatfield.

That's right, Beavis. You're being evicted.

Six weeks in arrears on your rent, and that's it, as far as I'm concerned.

You said you wanted something to fortify a man in the darkest hour of his life.

Are them it?

Those are it. You can't use them in the nominative case.

Live and learn, huh? Yeah, live and learn.

Bartender. You all right, bud?

Would you kindly tell me what are the ingredients of this drink?

Well, you said you wanted to get fortified, pal.

I put everything in there but atomic energy.

Does that explain why I can see him in the mirror but I can't see him in the

booth?

See who?

Whom. Objective case.

Quite right, Mr. Beavis.

Whom. Objective case.

Well, Mr. Beavis, we meet at last, eh?

That's very nice. And who might you be?

Whom? Objective case.

The name, for purposes of identification, is J. Hardy Hempstead.

I'm your guardian angel.

This is my friend, Mr. J. Hardy Hempstead. See what he's having.

Him?

And a happy Thanksgiving to you.

Well, cheers, Mr. Hempstead, and to better days.

Oh, aren't you drinking?

Now then, you were saying you were my... What was it? Your guardian angel.

Mr. Beavis, here's the way the cookie crumbles.

Several hundred years ago, one of your ancestors performed an act of great

courage. Now, part of his reward was to have a guardian angel assigned to one of

his descendants in each generation.

Current subject, James B.W. Beavis.

That's you.

Mr. Beavis, in the past few generations, I've handled some extremely solid

citizens among your presenters.

For instance, Magellan Beavis, an intrepid explorer

of the 16th century.

Parnell Beavis, a member of the British Parliament who fought for home rule

against insurmountable odds.

And more recently, Gunner Lou Beavis, the first Marine to hit the beach in

Nicaragua. That's Uncle Louie.

I tell you what. Look, look. Look, I'll close my eyes real tight, and then you

disappear, and then go away and haunt somebody else.

Mr. Beavis, I am not a figment of your imagination. As of now, you are being

watched over by the same guardian angel, J. Hardy Hempstead, your obedient

servant. Watched over?

Watched over.

Assisted by minor miracles from time to time, given small heavenly aids when the

situation calls for them.

Getting it, Mr. Beavis?

Watched over.

Now, today you had a very uncomfortable time.

You were fired from what was your 11th job in 18 months.

Well, Mr. Peckinpah didn't like zither music.

Well, I can't say I blame him for that, but that's neither here nor there. The

fact is, I can reconstitute the whole day, Mr. Beavis, so that its final

upshot will be exactly opposite to what it was.

So, let's go back to this morning and start all over again, hmm?

You mean...

I can have the day to live over again and it won't be the way it was?

Definitely not. We change some aspects.

Inevitably, we naturally have to change certain characteristics of your own.

Your clothes, for instance, Mr. Beavis.

Are you serious?

I look like an undertaker.

That may well be.

But if you want the day to end differently, you're going to have to be

a little bit different yourself, Mr. Beavis.

Let's go. There isn't much time.

Well, I certainly want to thank you for taking all this trouble with me, Mr.

Hempstead, whoever you are.

That nonsense is for the old Beavis.

You are the new Beavis.

Coming, Mr. Hempstead?

Oh, yes, yes.

I'm... Coming, Mr. Beavis.

Mrs. Chatfield. Good morning there, Mr.

Beavis. Look, about the rent. Oh, I found it in the box. Three weeks in

advance. You're a wonderful, wonderful roomer, Mr. Beavis.

I give nobody nothing.

Bananas!

Bananas!

Bananas!

What are you looking for, Mr. Beavis?

My car, my Rickenbacker. Correction. You don't drive a Rickenbacker.

That's your car.

That little thing?

Gee, do you think it...

Fitz?

Mr. Beavis, live it up, will you?

But have you ever driven a 1924 Rickenbacker?

My dear Beavis, I've driven a chariot with 11 horses.

I'm the guy responsible for Ben Hur winning.

And the old Rickenbacker went out with the old Beavis. You're a different

person now.

No more bow ties, no more zither music, no more Christmas carolers in the

office.

Well, the latter idiosyncrasy met with some approval from the organization.

Shall we, Mr. Beavers?

Sorry, pal.

You'll get on to it.

Look, somebody cleared off my desk.

Nothing of the kind.

You'll see.

Morning. Morning.

Come on.

Morning. Hi, Margaret.

Good morning, Mr. Beavis.

Hey, hey, what happened to the clock I won at the carnival?

Where's the ship I was building?

What ship?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Ah!

Good morning, Beavis.

Associates. Associates, one moment. I want you all to share this bit of good

news. As of this moment, Mr. James B.W. Beavis has been given a raise in salary.

Ten dollars a week, starting from this very moment.

And I might add that your work has been admirable.

Since you've been here for 11 months, I think it's time you got a raise.

A raise, Mr. Peckinpah?

Quite right, Beavis. Quite right.

Well, Mr. Peckinpah.

Yes, Beavis?

Well, but... Mr. Peckinpah, what about the Zither music?

What about the Christmas carols?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Mr. Beavis, you no longer have an interest in Zither music or Christmas

carolers or any of that nonsense.

Oh.

Oh, what, Beavis?

Nothing, sir. Nothing, Mr. Peckinpah.

Oh.

It looks nude.

It doesn't look decent.

I'm going to go out and get a little air.

Things are really looking up for you, aren't they, Mr. Beavis?

Yeah, I guess they are.

Where are you going?

Oh, I'm gonna go out and get a little air.

Or I may go over to my place and play a little football with the kids in the

street. Mr. Beavis.

Yeah?

They won't play with you.

Uh, not anymore.

You're not the same Beavis.

I see.

What do you say we level, hmm?

Now, what is it that you really want?

You know, for a fella like you, a $10 raise is the most that even I can get

for you.

To use the vernacular, Beavis, frankly, I don't dig you.

I'm used to Beavises with big dreams, gigantic hopes, fantastic aspirations.

Magellan Beavis sailing around the horn.

Parnell Beavis standing alone in Parliament, thundering out his

convictions.

Gunner Lou Beavis.

Semper Fidelis. Over-the-top boys.

Nobody lives forever.

Let's go.

Look, Mr. Hampstead, I don't like to appear ungracious, but, well, the things

I like, the things I believe in, I know they're odd, but they are worth

considerably more than $10 a week.

So I'm to take it that you prefer the bow tie and old ironsides, hmm?

I'm afraid that seems to be the case.

Now, you realize it's gonna be exactly the way it was? No job, no car, no place

to live at the moment?

Well, it's been that way before.

It's, uh, complicated, is it?

Hardly.

Take a good look.

Won't be around very long.

The cars will hook bumpers just as it was ordained they should hook bumpers.

Better get it over with.

Here comes Peckinpah. This time he won't be talking about a raise. It doesn't

make a bit of difference. Not a bit of difference.

Would you kindly tell the gentleman who occupies this museum and livestock

exhibit that I should like to see him when he finally deigns to report for

work?

Hiya. Hi, Bernie.

Hi, Maude. How are you? How are you? Hi, Margaret.

Uh, Mr. Beavis, Mr. Peckinpah wants to see you.

You feel fortified now, pal?

I certainly do.

You know, I lost my job today, and my car, and I was evicted.

But you know what?

I love zither music and model shipbuilding, and if you can't bring

kids into an office at Christmas time to sing carols, then what's the point of

being alive?

Beats me.

Well, there is no point. No point at all!

Well, now I'm going to go out and try and find myself another job.

And I'm going to find myself an apartment.

And then I'm going to start finishing old Ironsides for a little kid, eight

years old, with a dirty face who happens to love model ship building just the

same as I do.

Five dollars, pal.

With me, uh, Mr. Amstead?

Uh, officer, officer, uh... Your car, mister?

Well, uh... In this town, we take a dim view of parking in front of a hydra.

I'm Mr. Hempstead. Still with you, Mr. Beavis.

Still with you.

Mr.

James B.W. Beavis, who believes in a magic all his own, the magic of a

child's smile, the magic of liking and being liked.

The strange and wondrous mysticism that is a simple act of living.

Mr. James B.W. Beavis, species of 20th century male, who has his own private

and special Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling, the creator of Twilight Zone, will tell you about next week's

story after this word from our alternate sponsor.

And now, Mr.

Serling. Next week, you'll see our friends here, along with Anne Francis

and Elizabeth Allen, in one of the strangest stories we've yet presented on

The Twilight Zone.

It's called The After Hours and concerns the shadowy time when normal people go

back to their homes and concurrently what happens to those who are perhaps

not quite so normal or perhaps not quite so human.

Intriguing? I think you'll find it, so next week on The Twilight Zone.

Kimberly Clark invites you to watch Steve McQueen in Wanted, Dead or Alive,

Saturday nights over most of these same stations.