Script for today:
Page 13
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View of Jill and Taylor from the side. Jill has placed her hand on Taylor’s crotch, and we can see that he is obviously erect.
CAPTION: I have sort of a hard time concentrating…I mean, it’s been weeks since I’ve been this close to a girl and, well… |
Same view as before, except that now Jill has clearly grabbed Taylor by the balls and is squeezing, because he has a look of fear and pain on his face. Jill’s face is wearing an icy smile.
JILL: Of course, if you tell anyone what I’ve just told you…it won’t be at all pretty. |
Close up on Taylor’s face. Beads of sweat have appeared on it.
TAYLOR: Why tell me any of this at all, then? |
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Close up on Jill and Taylor’s faces. Jill has let go of Taylor’s balls and is now encircling his head with her arms, and nibbling at his ear again.
JILL: Let me ask you this, Taylor. How much do you love Marie? What would you be willing to give up for her?
TAYLOR: Everything. |
Close up on Taylor’s crotch. He’s erect again, and Jill’s fingertips are lightly brushing his trousers against the erection.
JILL (out-of-panel balloon): Everything?
TAYLOR (out-of-panel balloon): Yes, but why ask? |
Same view as before, except in this one Jill’s hand has reached for the tab on Taylor’s fly zipper and is beginning to open his fly.
JILL (out of panel balloon): Because you certainly won’t be able to penetrate Frau Kupler’s organization with one of these… |
Page 14
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Drawing back from Jill’s car. We can’t see inside the windows.
CAPTION: It gets more fantastic than that. |
Panel from Taylor’s P.O.V. He is reaching across a desk in a factlty office shaking hands with PROFESSOR REBECCA WAITE.
CAPTION: The next day Jill takes me to the psychology department and introduces me to a Professor Waite.
WAITE: How do you do, young man. |
Cutaway view of Waite’s office. Taylor and Waite are in the act of sitting down. Jill is leaning against a bookcase further in the background of the panel.
TAYLOR: So why am I here?
WAITE: We’re going to put you through a little…test.
TAYLOR: A test? |
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Close-up on Jill’s face. She loooks rather grim.
JILL: We’re going to find out if you really love Marie as much as you say you do. |
View from above inside something that looks rather like a hospital room. There is a narrow bed, which Taylor is lying on, underneath a sheet. He has apparently disrobed, because we see his bare shoulders a his left arm, extended. Waite is standing by him, checking a syringe of some kind that she has just filled.
TAYLOR: So what happens now?
WAITE: We shall be inducing a sort of dream state in you…your arm, please. |
Close up on Taylor’s arm. We see his arm, Waite’s hands, and the syringe, with which she is injecting something into his arm.
WAITE (out-of-panel balloon): I’m afraid you might not find what you dream very pleasant. You can wake up at any time, but the longer you stick with it, the better you’ll do.
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Page 15
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Taylor’s P.O.V. He is lying on his back, so he is looking up at the tiles on the ceiling.
CAPTION: Professor Waite tells me to lie back and just let things happen. For a little while nothing does. |
Another Taylor P.O.V. He has turned his head to the side, and is looking out in the lab. LITTLE MICHIKO is standing there, looking at him.
CAPTION: Out of nowhere, this little Asian girl appears. And stares at me. |
Close up on Little Michiko’s face.
CAPTION: She can’t be more than eight years old. But she’s looking at me like she’s sizing me up. It’s creepy…
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Little Michiko’s face again, this time visible through “ovals,” which black out the borders of the panels (symbolic of Taylor’s falling asleep).
CAPTION: Maybe this little girl is where dreams begin. |
Night view of an old graveyard. There is no moon. The gravestones are badly weathered and some are leaning. Illumination comes from a sodium vapor lamp off the street.
CAPTION: The graveyard…
CAPTION: It’s in my hometown. It’s old. If you look at the headstones you’ll see the names of people streets and schools are named after in my dying hometown. |
Close up on an old tombstone. Engraved on the tombstone is the legend SYLVANUS MORRIS 1821-1888.
CAPTION: When I was a boy I hated and feared this place, especially at night.
CAPTION: In my imagination I could hear the dead whispering to me, just below the threshold of hearing and yet still there somehow, saying “come join us.” |
I don’t hate or fear graveyards. Not anymore, anyway. If I had to pick a best graveyard (in North America, anyway) for thaumatophiles, I would suggest the Old Burying Point in Salem, Massachusetts, which is at once cautionary and cool.
Cautionary, because it’s where many of the victims of the Salem Witch Trials are buried, and hence a warning about what people like to do to those who seem a little too strange. Cool, because walking around it and looking at the names on headstones it seems like the family burying ground for characters from H.P. Lovecraft stories.
Which is not to say that the whole graveyard thing can’t be taken in rather different directions.
Found at this Russian-language site. And it can certainly get more strange from there:
Found here. Guess I’m not the only person whose erotic consciousness was cobbled together with whatever random parts happened to be at hand.
Back before most teenagers had cars, or access to cars, local cemeteries were apparently a favored makeout (etc.) spot for couples. My father lost his virginity in a graveyard, I was told, lo, these many years ago. (“TMI, Dad! TMI!“)