All language subtitles for The Life Of Chuck 2024 1080p HDTS x264-RGB

It is eternal life.

It is happiness.

The past and present wilt.

I have filled them, emptied them, and proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there, what have you to confide to me?

Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening.

Talk honestly, no one else hears you.

And I stay only a minute longer.

Do I contradict myself?

Very well, then I contradict myself.

I am large.

I contain multitudes.

Oh my god.

What is it?

Clearly something more interesting than Whitman.

California.

There was another earthquake.

A huge chunk's gone from Santa Barbara to Fresno.

It's fucking crazy.

Into the ocean just like that.

All right, all right.

Settle down.

Got no connection.

Anybody else have one?

Sorry.

Network's still down.

I've got his file here, though.

Dylan's been diving lately.

I mean, this semester he's gone from A's and B's to D's.

You keep hard copies?

When the network started acting up, a lot of us started keeping hard copies.

What do you think?

You think it's coming back?

Well, I don't know.

I remember the world before the internet.

Why is it so hard to imagine carrying on without it?

It is, though, isn't it?

How do we go back?

How can we go back?

What if it's down for good this time?

Internet's still down.

Yeah, but lucky for us, I've got hard copies for each student.

I think this might be it.

I don't think it's coming back this time.

You might be right, but I do think we should talk about Emily.

Her attendance is really falling off.

Her attendance?

Absenteeism's at an all-time high all over the world.

We've got doctors and pilots and cops and everyone's just pissing the fuck off, right?

But you, you want to talk to us about Emily.

How are they supposed to study anyway?

Web's been on the fritz for eight months.

Half those sites are just garbled.

I mean, I get it.

Sites go dark, but what about all that other stuff?

Sites are there, but all the punctuation's wrong, words spelled wrong.

How do you explain that?

Well, I can't, but Brian can still prepare for class.

I mean, the library's still here.

Internet or not.

Pornhub's down.

Did you know that, Mr. Anderson?

Yeah, I, uh, I had noticed that.

Sorry if Brian's been any trouble.

It's just me now.

His mom, she left, I don't know where.

That's been happening a lot more, I hear.

People just ghosting.

Hers was some star-crossed boyfriend from high school.

They dated a month.

Goddamn month.

She's gonna throw 20 years in the trash to chase down a month.

I guess she never stopped thinking about him.

I guess she longed on someone like that.

I mean, I get it.

If it really is the end, like those kooks in the purple robes say, then who do you want to be with for it but to leave her son?

Uh, she says she'll be back.

I don't know.

Um, fucking Pornhub.

What if that never comes back?

Fucking tragedy.

I mean, even if it is the end of all things, that's just fucking mean.

It's a scene of devastation and heartbreak in California as rescue workers sift through what remains of the northern portion of the state.

350 dead in North Yorkshire as water levels continue to rise.

The day Marty

Anderson first saw the billboard was just before the internet finally went down for good.

It had been wobbling for eight months, but other problems, like fires, earthquakes,

and whole species of birds and fish dying off had taken priority.

Until today, thought to be the largest wildfire in United States history.

Ordinarily, Marty would have driven home by way of the Turnpike Bypass, but that was impossible due to the collapse of the bridge over Otter Creek.

California, that officially makes Nevada one of the most popular states in the Union now.

The thing that must be said here is...

Felicia Gordon is a nurse at City General, though for the last few weeks she's felt more like an undertaker.

The staff, whose numbers have been dwindling since late summer, have begun referring to themselves as the Suicide Squad.

We'll be back to talk more about this.

Hey.

I heard you got another one.

Yeah.

One more.

I wasn't so lucky.

Slippery, so...

What were we supposed to do, really?

Forget about Mary Lou.

No.

What about Mary Lou?

She left.

Her ex, remember Pedro?

He showed up, and I don't know what he said to her, but she walked out holding his hand.

And I remember how bad that divorce was.

Do you remember?

Yeah, I remember.

I guess that's all Bridgewater, because off she went.

I wonder what the stats are.

Do you think more people are splitting up or getting back together?

I mean, do you think marriage rates are up or divorce rates are up?

Marriages.

You're an optimist.

Divorce takes way longer, and I don't think anyone's filing.

Why bother?

Six months of paperwork, at least.

Probably more.

Marriage license is one page, and it takes an hour, so...

I'm going to guess marriages.

Mr. for lunch, Mr. for dinner.

What's the matter?

Don't you need any more?

Well, I wasn't hungry tonight.

Weren't you hungry this morning, either?

Post all my night long.

You ain't got the nerve.

Not very.

Too much?

It was kind of a workout.

Is that why you slept late?

Well, I didn't sleep late.

I went uptown.

Were you shopping?

No.

Hey.

Hi.

You hung up?

Yeah.

Then I figured you probably saw it, so...

How are you?

I'm okay, I guess.

How are you?

I was, um, thinking about you today.

We were at work talking about marriages and divorces, like what you're having more now.

Marriages, I bet.

Ain't nobody waiting on a divorce.

What about repairs?

You want to buy a guy a drink first?

I bet those are happening.

I mean, it makes sense.

People wanting something comforting and familiar.

So, how was your day?

It was just going right forward.

Humor me.

It was, um, it was a day, I guess.

You know, weird.

Guard teacher sessions felt like pissing in the wind.

You know about California, right?

Yeah.

I know they're saying most of it was already evacuated, but I heard today there are hundreds of thousands of refugees trekking east.

Did you know Nevada is one of the most populous states in the Union now?

I heard a scientist on NPR say California is peeling away like old wallpaper, and another Japanese reactor got inundated this afternoon.

And they're saying, you know, it was shut down, and all's well, but I just, I don't think I believe that.

Panic.

Well, we're living in cynical times, Marty.

I mean, some people think we're living in the last times.

Not just the religious crazies either, not anymore.

And you were hearing that from a member in good standing of the city, ourselves now, no lie.

We lost six today.

But there's 18 more we dragged back, mostly from the locks.

That sucks.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah, that sucks.

It really sucks.

The Internet's down, and California's hanging by a thread.

There's fires and famines and plagues and all the rest, I mean, it just, the center doesn't hold.

It just won't let up.

Life is going to go on.

How much can we take before the whole thing, before the whole thing goes apart, I mean.

I'm teaching the kids Carl Sagan right now.

Did you hear what he said about the cosmic calendar?

I don't know.

I don't think so.

Well, the universe is 15 billion years old, and if you took all of that, all 15 billion years,

and compressed them into a single calendar year, then the Big Bang happens in the first second, January 1st.

And today, right now, we're in the final millisecond of the last minute of the last day, December 31st.

Beyond, The best part is this,

The big bang happens in midnight January 1st.

I need to mention this calendar is one and a quarter billion years long.

Ain't nobody told me there was math on this exam.

The universe starts January 1st, but the Milky Way didn't form until May.

Our sun and our earth don't show up until mid-September.

Life appears soon after, but not us.

No, we don't appear for, guess how long?

Again, I was told there'd be no math.

December 31st.

Last day on the calendar, and the very first human beings on Earth made their debut around 10.30 p.m.

10.30 p.m. on the last date. And of every minute since then, it's 30,000 years, so at 11.46 p.m.,

only 14 minutes ago, humanity tamed fire.

And now we're out of minutes, we're into seconds.

11.59 and 20 seconds, the domestication of plants and animals began.

An application for the human talent to make...

11.59 and 35 seconds.

Agricultural community, our recorded history, everyone we've ever heard of.

Every single thing in any one of our history books happens in the last 10 seconds.

The last 10 seconds, the last minute, the last day on the calendar.

December 31st.

So how long's it gonna go on?

I don't know, Phil.

If you're right, then you might be that this really is the last times the universe is dying.

The last split second.

Microsecond.

Who knows how long that'll last?

Maybe seconds.

Maybe eons.

Maybe all this is happening is the cosmos burps out its last breath.

Maybe it's all happening in the last single solitary heartbeat.

Jesus, Marty.

You know, listen, Phil, I should go.

I've, um...

I've got tests to grade.

Marty?

The world is going down the drain, and all we can say is that sucks, so maybe we're going down the drain, too.

Maybe.

But, you know, Chuck Kranz is retiring, so...

I guess there's a gleam of light in the darkness.

Yeah, 39 for your ears.

You saw that weird billboard?

No, it was an ad on the radio that NPR show I was telling you about.

They're running ads on NPR right against the end of the world.

I mean, how does Chuck Kranz write this kind of coverage?

Looks like an accountant.

I've never heard of him.

Used an old photo tool, I guess.

I mean, the guy barely looks 40 at all.

It's full of mysteries.

And, hey, no hard stuff, Marty.

Okay, half beer instead.

You got it.

The Ohio EPA has now issued a code red air quality alert for Cleveland and its surroundings.

Shit on the step.

We'd like to say thank you to Charles Kranz for 39 great years.

Thanks, Chuck.

Thanks.

Gus.

Oh, hey, Marty.

Where's your car?

Shit.

It's on the sidewalk halfway down Main Street Hill with a hundred others.

I finally just had to turn around.

Fuck it, I walked...

What do you think that is, like three miles?

I just walked three miles.

Oh, you're going to school.

Hold a sec.

Real quick.

You got to go...

Listen to me.

You got to go out Route 11 and then hook back on 19.

Yeah, there's going to be plenty of traffic.

You got to go out at least 20 miles.

You mind making it before lunch?

I wouldn't count on...

What happened?

A giant sinkhole opened up on Market and Main.

Man, the thing, it's huge.

All the rain probably had something to do with it.

Lack of maintenance maybe more so.

It's not my department.

Thank God.

But, yeah, there's got to be 20 cars at the bottom.

And some of the people in some of those cars, they ain't coming back.

Jesus, I was just there last night.

Backed up in traffic.

Thank God you weren't there this morning.

They seem to know about California.

I didn't turn on the TV this morning.

Is this something new?

The rest of it went.

I mean, they're saying that 20% of Northern California is hanging in there, which probably means, what, 10%?

But the food-producing regions are gone.

And with the Midwest turning to charcoal and Florida flooding, that's like all the food-producing regions in the country.

Gone.

And the same thing with Europe.

I mean, it's famine time in Asia.

There's a million people dead.

They're saying it's the bubonic plague.

Bubonic plague, yeah.

And the bees, I mean, they were in trouble a decade ago, but they're completely gone now.

I mean, there's a couple hives or whatever down in South America, but there ain't no honey, honey.

And without those little guys, like, what's gonna pollinate all the crops we have left?

I mean, I can't do that.

Excuse me one sec.

Yeah, yeah, it's cool.

Andrea, are you Andrea from Midwest Trust?

I'm Felicia Anderson's husband.

Ex, actually.

I think you and Phil know each other.

We met at a game night at David's, a few game nights.

Yeah, sure.

What do you want?

I just had a long walk and my car is stuck and the bank is leaning.

Leaning?

Yeah.

It's on the edge of the sinkhole.

Guess that's the end of my job.

Hey, I'm curious about the billboard on the bank building.

Have you seen it?

How could I miss it?

And I saw the ads, too, on TV.

No more ads for cars or discount furniture, just Charles Krantz, 39 great years.

Thanks, Chuck.

So he doesn't work at the bank?

He's not retiring from the bank?

I don't know Charles Krantz.

I think it's just a prank.

Performance art.

Take care.

They look like refugees.

Yeah.

No one looks that concerned.

Well, good with that, then.

No one was concerned at the start.

Remember the protests?

Remember?

They knocked over the fence at the White House and all the students got shot?

The overthrow of the Russian government, you got the four-day war between Pakistan and India, and a fucking volcano in Germany.

There was a volcano in Germany.

That's crazy.

And we just kept saying, oh, it's going to blow over.

That doesn't look to be happening, though, does it?

I think that suicides will slow down.

Right?

People will just wait.

For what?

The end.

This is the end of everything.

I mean, we're going through the five stages of grief.

Don't you get it?

I mean, we just landed on the final stage.

Acceptance.

The waiting, that's the hardest part.

And the whole thing, it just came out of nowhere.

I mean, everyone knew there was trouble with the environment.

I mean, I think even the right-wing nutjobs were secretly, they got it.

But this, just 60 different varieties of shit.

It's just so much shit that happened fast.

It took a year, man, and 14 months.

Sucks.

Yeah, sucks.

Skywriting.

I haven't seen one of those since I was a kid.

What the fuck?

My sentiments.

Exactly.

Whoa, whoa.

Where have you been?

Are you kidding?

I had to run here.

The traffic's insane and half the cars are empty.

Dr. Winston's MIA.

What?

He walked in this morning and he looked around and he walked out again.

And now I can't find him.

He dropped his pager when he walked out.

Okay, I'll scrub in.

The beds are empty.

Most of them walked out.

I transferred the last of the stable ones.

But Felicia, there's something weird.

What is that?

What's wrong with the monitor?

That's the thing.

It's not just that one.

I don't know, Fel.

I don't know.

I mean, I might want to get out of here.

I might want to go home.

I don't need to be here anymore.

You okay, sir?

Just taking a rest.

I walked downtown to look at the sinkhole and take a few pictures with my phone, thought.

One of the local TV stations might be interested, but they all seem to be off the air.

Except for pictures of Kermit the Frog.

All Krantz.

All Krantz all the time.

Any idea who he is?

None.

I've asked two dozen people.

At least nobody knows.

Our man Krantz is the Oz of the apocalypse.

Our last meme.

Where are you heading?

Harvest Acres.

Nice little enclave off the beaten track.

I'm heading there myself.

My ex lives there.

I can walk with you if you like.

What do you do, Sam?

You still do anything?

Owner and chief undertaker of Yarborough Funeral Home.

Yeah.

We had a boom.

I feel good about it because this was never better than it was a few weeks ago.

But my real interests, meteorology, dreamed of being on television with a man in my salad days,

maybe more than networks.

But now, I keep up, though.

Read the journals.

And I can tell you something amazing if you want to hear it.

You know how people say there are 24 hours in a day?

Well, they're wrong.

There were 23 hours and 56 minutes in a stellar day.

Plus a few odd seconds.

There were.

Based on my calculations, which I assure you I can back up.

My math is good.

There are now 24 hours and two minutes in a day.

Do you know what that means?

You're saying the Earth's rotation is slowing down.

Exactly.

Some folks think all of these disasters are because of what we've done to the environment.

Not so.

I'm the first to admit we treated our mother, yes, she's our mother, all of us, very badly.

Certainly molested her if not outright raped her.

But we're puny compared to the great clock of the universe.

No.

Whatever's happening is much larger than environmental degradation.

The math says so.

And math can do a lot of things.

I mean, math can be art.

But it can't lie.

You know what?

I think I'll sit and enjoy the sunset while I wait for the arthritis to settle a bit.

You gotta join me.

I think I'll go on.

The ex, I understand.

Well, it was nice speaking with you, Mr. Anderson.

Hey.

Hey.

Don't worry, I'm going to see my ex-wife, Felicia Anderson.

I think she's back to Gordon now.

She lives on Fern Lane, number 19.

Yeah, I know Miss Gordon.

What are you doing out?

We wanted to go skating.

I used to love skating.

Then you should go skating.

Maybe I should.

Why do you see Miss Gordon if she's your ex?

Well, I still like her.

Do you fight?

We used to.

We get along better now that we're exes.

Miss Gordon gives us ginger snap cookies sometimes.

I like Oreos better, but...

That's just the way the cookie crumbles, right?

Ginger snaps don't crumble.

At least not until you crush them.

You better go home, I guess.

It's too dark for skating without street lights.

Is everything going to be okay?

Sure it is.

Okay.

Go home to your mom and dad.

Do it now.

Oh, thank God.

Oh, thank God.

Thank God.

I just...

I just...

No, I know, I know, I saw.

Is it just you?

I think it's everywhere.

I think it's almost.

Yeah, I think it's almost.

It's the brightest I've ever seen the stars.

It's not that bad.

There's Akela, the eagle.

There's Cygnus.

The swan.

You see it?

Then there's the north star.

Did you just say that?

Yeah.

There goes Mars.

I'm scared.

I am too.

It's fine honey, you're gone.

39 years.

39 great years.

Thanks, Chuck.

With the help of her friend Mac, who has an old van, Taylor Frank sets up her drum kit in her favorite spot on the 8th street promenade.

Yeah.

It's Thursday afternoon.

The weather is fucking gorgeous.

And the streets are thronged with people looking forward to the weekend, which is always better than the weekend itself.

All good, Taylor?

Yeah, thanks.

10% is all the things I want, dude.

Taylor and Mac, too, work part-time at Dr. Records on Castle Street.

But on a good day, Taylor can make almost as much busking.

Busk drumming isn't what her parents saw for her when she enrolled at Juilliard, and they don't know yet that she dropped out.

Juilliard wanted you to think about what you were doing.

But as far as Taylor is concerned, the beat is your friend and thinking is the enemy.

She starts warming up, going easy at first, slow tempo, no cowbell.

Not minding that the magic hat stays empty except for her two crumbled dollars and a quarter flipped contemptuously by a dude on a skateboard.

There is time.

There is a way in.

Finding the end is half the fun.

Maybe even most of it.

Janice Halliday is on her way home from seven hours at Paper and Page and may walk all the way to the ocean.

Her boyfriend of 16 months just broke up with her and he did it the modern way.

Motherfucker!

It was totally unexpected, like having a door slammed in your face just as you were getting ready to walk through it.

It was...

Fucking bullshit!

Fucking bullshit.

She isn't in love with him, never even kidded herself that she was, but still it...

Fucking sucks!

...is a dismaying shock just the same.

She supposes she'll have some wine when she gets home and cry.

Maybe queue up one of her big band playlists and dance drunk around the room.

She loved to dance in high school.

Maybe she can recapture a little of that happiness.

Fucking really?

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Not you, not you.

Fuck.

Charles Krantz.

Chuck, to his friends, is dressed in the armor of accountancy.

Gray suit, blue shirt, blue tie.

His Samuel Windsor shoes are inexpensive but sturdy.

He's here for a week-long conference titled Banking in the 21st Century.

He's been sent by his bank, Midwest Trust, all expenses paid.

Chuck has enjoyed the speakers and the panels.

He was on one panel and is scheduled to be on another before the conference ends at noon tomorrow,

but has no wish to spend his off-duty hours in the company of 70 other accountants.

He speaks their language, but likes to think he speaks others as well.

At least he did, although some of the vocabulary is now lost.

Now his sensible Samuel Windsor Oxfords are taking him for an afternoon walk.

His life is narrower than the one he once hoped for, but he's made peace with that.

He understands that narrowing is the natural order of things.

He has a wife, Ginny, to whom he is scrupulously faithful, and an intelligent, good-humored son in middle school.

He also has only nine months to live, though he doesn't know that yet.

Taylor has been on the job for ten minutes now and has nothing to show for it.

She sees a Mr. Businessman type coming toward her, but something about it, God knows what, makes Taylor want to announce his approach.

She slips first into a reggae beat, then something slinkier.

And for the first time today, Taylor feels a spark and begins to whack the cowbell on the downbeat.

It's pretty cool.

The groove is like a road you want to follow.

She could speed the beat up, get some Tom in there, but she's watching Mr. Businessman, and that seems wrong for this dude.

She believes Mr. Businessman will just go on past on his way to the business hotel,

and when he's gone, Taylor will switch to something else.

But...

It's okay.

It's like a latch.

It's like a latch.

You okay?

Yeah.

Yeah, just one of my headaches.

Oh, no, no, no.

Come on.

I don't need it.

You keep it.

Come on, man.

You earned it.

Buy yourself dinner.

Give it away.

I'm handing it to you.

We can do this for a living, you know.

I didn't know about that.

I really think we can bust our way to fame and fortune.

What made you stop in front of me?

Why did you start moving?

He could say it was because he was thinking about his old half-assed band, the Retros,

and how he liked to dance across the stage during instrumental breaks.

But that's not it.

I don't know.

Taylor, we've got to roll.

Are you going to end up spending your take on my parking ticket?

You guys don't want a career change?

Career change?

Yeah, I mean...

We can eat for ourselves.

You've got to get in here before you go.

Group hug!

Oh, okay.

Group hug!

Okay.

Come on!

Buskers forever.

Yeah, buskers forever.

We've got to roll.

I'm going to be your agent, though.

That sucks.

It does suck.

I thought he was a nice guy.

He was a pretty good lover and we had fun and all that.

I can find a video of us dancing, which I'm going to look because I bet we go viral.

I'm going to send it to him with a text.

A text that says, this is what you're missing.

You're going to be fine.

I don't know a lot, but I know that much.

You've got a bright sunbeam in front of you and you're going to step right into it, I can tell.

But yeah, it sucks.

Not much else to say.

Everything goes down the drain and all we can say is that it sucks.

No.

Maybe we're going down the drain, too.

Maybe.

I'm this way.

I'm that way.

Thank you for today.

Thanks.

As he passes the place where Taylor set up her drums, those two questions recur.

Why did he stop to listen?

And why did he start to dance?

He doesn't know.

And would answers make a good thing better?

Later, he'll lose the ability to walk, never mind dancing with Little Sister on the promenade.

Later, he'll lose the ability to chew food.

Later, he'll forget his wife's name.

Later, he'll lose his grip on the difference between waking and sleeping,

and enter a land of pain so great, he will wonder why God made the world.

What he will remember, occasionally,

is how he stopped and dropped his briefcase and began to move his hips to the beat of the drums.

And he will think, that is why God made the world.

Just that.

Chuck was looking forward to having a baby sister.

Of course, he was also looking forward to having parents.

But none of that worked out, thanks to a patch of well-hidden ice on an I-95 overpass.

Chuck wasn't in the car when it happened, because his parents were having a dinner date,

and he was being babysat by his grandparents, who, at the time, he was still calling Zadie and Bubby.

He was seven years old.

For a year and a half, it was a house of unadulterated sadness.

Albie and Sarah Krantz had not only lost their son and daughter-in-law,

they had lost the granddaughter who would have been born just three months later.

The name had already been picked out.

Alyssa.

When Chuck said that sounded to him like rain, his mother had laughed and cried at the same time.

He never forgot that.

Albie processed his grief by turning to his two absolutes, numbers and alcohol.

Sarah, though, could find no joy in her usual pleasures.

She loved the flavors of life, music, art and food, but now found the world quiet and gray and flavorless.

Some of the good feelings came back into the house with time.

There were a lot of takeout meals after the accident, but around the time Chuck turned 10, his grandma started cooking again.

She liked to rock and roll while she was cooking.

Music Chuck would have thought much too young for her, but which she clearly enjoyed.

Come on, little brother, let's dance.

You can learn those moves kiddo, you're a natural.

Where did you learn?

High school.

What were you like in high school?

I was a cruciate.

Don't you tell your Sadie I said that.

He's old school that one.

Chuck never told.

His grandparent's house became every inch his home.

With one exception.

The cupola on the roof.

Chuck was forbidden to go into the cupola.

That was his grandfather's rule and it was absolute, emphatic.

Albie wasn't a stern man in other matters.

He was downright gentle in most respects, but on this point he was rigid.

Chuck asked about it, of course, and more than once.

What was up there?

What could you see from the high window?

And the big question, why was the room locked?

Grandma said: because the floor isn't safe and you might go right through.

Grandpa said: there's nothing up there because of that rotten floor and the only thing you can see through the windowsis the shopping center.

He said that until one night just before Chuck's 11th birthday, when he told at least part of the truth.

The cosmic calendar compresses the local history of the universe into a single year.

If the universe began on January 1st, it was not until May that the Milky Way formed.

Drinking is not good for secrets, and after the death of his son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter-to-be,

Alyssa, who sounds like rain, Albie Krantz drank a great deal.

I'll bet you could see way past the Westfield Mall from the cupola.

You gotta be able to see the whole town from up there, I bet.

If you went up there, you might see a lot more than you wanted.

That's why it's locked, Chucko.

He wanted to ask what Grandpa meant, but the adult part of him, not there in person,

no, not at 10, but something that had begun to speak on rare occasions, told him to be quiet.

Be quiet and wait.

You know what style of house this is?

Victorian.

That's right.

And not pretend Victorian, either.

It was built in 1885.

It's been remodeled half a dozen times since, but that cupola was there from the start.

Been here since 71, and in all those years, I haven't been up to that damn cupola half a dozen times.

Because the floor's rotted?

Because it's full of ghosts.

You remember Scrooge?

Yeah.

That Scrooge movie we watched?

I remember.

Do you think of that as a ghost story?

I guess so.

Didn't someone say it was a ghost story?

Christmas yet to come.

Jeffrey's boy was a month later.

Henry Peterson.

That took longer.

Four, maybe five years on, and by then, I almost forgot what I saw up there.

Almost.

Said I'd never go back up there after that.

And I wish I hadn't.

Because of Sarah.

Because of your bubby, Chuckie.

Your sweet bubby.

And the bread.

It's the waiting chuckle.

That's the hard part.

Last ten seconds of the cosmic countdown.

It's getting cold out there.

Vera says hi.

She says thanks for the soup.

She laid the gossip on me.

Laid it good.

Of course, that's why we have her here, isn't it?

So, what's the latest?

Well, I don't know if you've heard, but Trish is saying Karen and Maddie are in therapy.

Who's Henry Peterson, Zadie?

He'll be back with some groceries.

Then how about tonight we do some s'mores in the fireplace?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Was he blabbing to you about his ghosts?

The ones that live in the cupola?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Are there?

What do you think?

I wouldn't pay too much attention to Zadie.

He's a good man, but sometimes, sometimes he drinks too much.

Then he rides his hobby horses.

I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.

Who was the Jeffreys boy?

Well, that was a very sad thing, kiddo.

He lived on the next block over, and he got hit by a car when he chased a ball into the street.

It happened a long time ago, and if your grandpa says he saw it before it happened, he's mistaken.

He just drinks too much.

You know, I could take those to Mrs. Stanley if you want.

Oh, that's very thoughtful of you.

I bet Mary would love that.

Just wonderful.

Your grandmother is an artist.

Thank you for bringing them over.

Was that your idea?

Be honest.

It was.

What can I make you?

A cup of tea?

I don't drink tea, but I wouldn't mind a glass of milk.

Well, your grandmother's a saint.

Now, what about your granddad?

Did he have that thing on his back with that?

Yeah, the doctor took it off and had it tested.

Tell me everything.

It was with the little backwards.

Thank God for that.

Yeah, he was talking to grandma about someone named Henry Peterson.

So awful.

No, Henry was a bookkeeper just like your granddad.

He did a lot of the other businesses in town.

The ones that your Zadie did.

How did it happen?

I don't think you want to hear about that stuff.

Well, granddad said it was peaceful.

Peaceful?

He killed himself, hung himself.

His wife, you see, she ran off with this younger man, barely old enough to vote, and she was in her 40s.

What do you think of that?

Wow.

What's happening at school?

Just smooching who?

Talk honestly, for no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.

Do I contradict myself?

Very well, then.

I contradict myself.

I'm large.

I contain multitudes.

On the last day of sixth grade, Miss Richards,

a sweet hippy-dippy-ish young woman who had no command of discipline and would probably not last long in the public education system,

tried to recite for Chuck's class some verse of Walt Whitman's Song of Myself.

That went well, don't you think?

Yeah, I'm sorry about that.

What does he mean when he says, I am large?

I contain multitudes?

What do you think he means?

All the people he knows?

Yes, but maybe he means even more.

Come here.

What's in there between my hands?

My brain.

No, um, that's not exactly what I mean.

What's in there, right between my hands, right now?

I'm low.

All the people you know?

I guess.

Just the people you know?

Everything you see.

Everything you know.

The world, Chuck.

Planes in the sky, manhole covers in the street.

Every year that you live, that world inside your head will get bigger and brighter and more detailed and complex.

You will build cities and countries and continents and you will fill them with people and faces real and imagined.

You understand?

You fill the whole thing with everyone you ever meet, everyone you ever know, everyone you ever just imagined.

It'll be a universe.

A whole universe right between my hands.

You contain multitudes.

So, what happens to that universe if someone, I don't know,

hits a patch of ice and goes off an overpass or?

Don't worry too much about those things.

Just remember that you contain multitudes, Chuck.

Isn't that wonderful?

Now, go on.

You were such a good boy.

I really enjoyed having you in class.

Chuck did enjoy his summer until August when Bubby died.

It happened at the grocery store down the street in public,

which was a little undignified, but at least it was the kind of death where people can safely say,

Thank God she didn't suffer.

The other standby, she had a long, full life, was more of a gray area.

Sarah Krantz had yet to reach her mid-60s.

Once more, the house on Pilchard Street was one of unadulterated sadness.

Albie wore his morning band and lost weight and stopped telling his jokes and began to look older than his 70 years.

That's it?

Yeah.

About 75.

That lady who was in here a few weeks ago, the one who died, where was she when it happened?

It's a little creepy.

She was my grandma.

She was getting a loaf of bread, pulled down almost everything on the shelf, and she collapsed.

I'm sorry if that's too much information.

Nah.

I already knew that.

No!

Get away from here!
You get away from here!

Give me that.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give me it.

I'm sorry.

Are you okay?

What did you see?

What did you see?

I'm sorry.

It's just, you can't.

You can't do that, Albie.

You just can't.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm so, so sorry.

I'm sorry.

Come on, little brother.

Let's dance.

Hello, twirlers and hello, spinners.

What do you know?

Three boys this year.

It's a new record.

You gentlemen might find yourselves being teased for your new hobby.

I assure you, you are the smartest young men in the whole school.

You'll soon see what I mean.

For those who don't know me, I am Miss Rohrabacher, and when I'm not teaching the girls phys ed, I am what a few students have called the dance monster.

Nothing?

All right.

You have chosen what might be the best club this school has ever had, because if we didn't have girls volleyball, we wouldn't have nothing.

No, no, no.

Back, Mr. Mulford.

You are mine now.

One.

Chuck knew it.

Chow-chow.

Chuck knew it.

Swing.

Triple step, rock step, triple step, triple step.

Chuck knew it.

Samba.

I don't know that one.

He was by far the best dancer in the little club.

So Miss Rohrabacher mostly put him with the girls who were clumsy.

He understood she did it to make them better, and he was a good sport about it.

Near the end of their two hours, however, the dance monster would show mercy and pair him with Cat McCoy,

who was an eighth grader and the best dancer of the girls.

And Chuck didn't expect romance.

Cat was not only gorgeous, she was a full foot taller than he was.

But he loved to dance with her, and the feeling was mutual.

Out, two, three, turn.

Now box.

I don't know what that is.

Oh my God.

Okay, 10 minutes freestyle.

Hey, watch this.

Show me how you did that.

Ready?

Slide.

Here, ready?

Try it with me.

Uh, kick off your shoes and do it in your socks.

One, slide.

Slide.

Yeah, there you go.

Hey, show me.

Pop, slide, pop, slide, slide, slide.

Again.

Twirlers and spinners let out half an hour late that day.

That's so rad.

You figured that out by yourself?

I just kept rewinding and rewinding until I figured it out.

We should do that at the plane.

Uh, not as a date or anything.

I'm going out with Dougie Wentworth.

You know that, right?

Yeah.

But that doesn't mean we can't show them some cool moves.

I really want to.

Do you?

I don't know.

I'm a lot shorter.

I think people will laugh.

That totally works.

Totally does.

You sure?

Oh, yeah, I'm sure.

Well, they feel great.

Just a little big.

There should be a little more.

How's that?

The floor feels like ice.

If I scratch this on that floor, the janitor is going to be here.

Timmy, there won't be a janitor.

It's too light on his feet to leave it.

Oh, it's perfect.

Taking on a run of these two.

You don't have to sigh.

You're good at this, you know?

You're really good at it.

Yeah, but it's boring.

Boring?

What?

You mean math?

Yeah.

I wonder if maybe next semester you might want to try math league after school.

I did it.

All high school, in fact, and it was so great.

You're doing twirlers and spinners.

Hey, hey, put that down a second, will you?

Just a little about math.

These people start out thinking it might be boring, and that's their first mistake.

It's used in every career, in every job, in every facet of life on this planet.

That's a fact.

Tell the planet.

How do you think we figure out how long a day is?

Everybody knows how long a day is.

How long?

24 hours.

People say it's 24 hours, but they're wrong.

There are 23 hours and 56 minutes in a stellar day, plus a few odd seconds.

Math proves it.

How do we know how old the earth is?

How old the universe is?

How long people have been here, or how to build a bridge or a skyscraper, or how far apart the stars are?

How do we land on the moon?

The stars themselves.

Why they burn, why atoms split and fuse, and all the rest is just math.

Stars are just math.

When you look at the night sky, you're seeing the greatest equation in the universe.

Heck, you're dancing.

That's math too.

I mean, what's the language of dance?

How do you learn your steps?

It's even in the name.

I mean, they call it the count.

One and two and three and four.

What's a waltz?

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

Just numbers.

Just math.

And more than that, there's an art to it.

What I do, all these files here, all these folders, these are all people's lives.

Every choice they made last year, last 10 years, everything that's important to them, every weakness they have,

every vice, every dream, it's all here in numbers.

Some schmuck comes in, takes those numbers, does the math without artistry.

Someone loses their house.

I take those numbers to a little art.

I save someone's life.

That's what I do.

That's what accounting is.

Maybe they should teach that, the cool stuff and not just all the boring stuff.

Math is something else too.

Some math, math that's called statistics or probability, it can tell you stuff about your future.

It can tell you, for example, you're more likely to be drafted by a major league sports team than to make a real living as a dancer.

The world loves dancers.

It truly does.

But it needs accountants.

So there's much more demand.

So there's much more opportunity.

I know that might hurt, but it's the truth.

Math is truth.

It won't lie to you.

It doesn't factor in your preferences.

It's pure that way.

Math can do a lot of things.

Math can be art.

But it can't lie.

So take another run at those two.

Because Chucko, you are good.

You have art in you.

Thanks.

You too.

Want to show them how it's done?

I don't know.

I kind of, um, I kind of hurt my leg.

You hurt your leg?

Maybe, maybe let's, let's wait for a better song.

I thought you were going to tear it up tonight.

My shoes feel all funny and hurt my leg.

I'm sorry to hear that.

So you came to DAG, huh?

No date?

It'll change.

Believe me.

It'll change.

Just give it some time.

Means anything.

It's all just, just discrimination.

Practice.

Hey, this is perfect.

Come on.

I'm still good.

My leg's still wonky.

Chuck, come on.

I'm going to blow the roof off.

I'm sorry.

It hurts.

You know, I've been dancing since I was eight.

And I teach cooking.

And I've seen my kids get hurt.

I see other walk changes.

I see other posture changes.

Don't mind me saying, but you look, but you look fine to me, Chuck.

I'm not saying that you have to dance with a girl.

It's up to you.

I'm just saying, dance or no dance, you don't have to lie.

Tell her the truth.

She can take it.

You ready?

Yeah, let's do it.

You may have been young, but they were smart enough to know when to quit.

Six months before he died of a brain tumor,

at the unfair age of 39, and while his mind was still working, mostly,

Chuck told his wife the truth about the scar on the back of his hand.

When they'd first started dating, he told her he'd gotten it from a boy named Doug Wentworth,

who was pissed about him dancing with his girlfriend at a middle school formal.

And pushed him into a chain-link fence outside the gym.

I lied about that, though.

Oh, my.

A man of secrets.

Even still.

What happened, love?

When our fabulous dance was over, I was sweaty and I was so hot.

I felt like my cheeks were gonna catch fire.

You were great.

Thank you.

What a star.

All I wanted in that moment was just darkness, cool air, and I'd be by myself.

There were millions of stars that night.

Millions of them.

And millions more behind them.

And sure, maybe they were just math, but they also danced.

I know, because I saw one of them.

And I remember thinking, the universe is large, and it contains multitudes, but it also contains me.

And in this moment, I am wonderful.

And I have a right to be wonderful.

Oh!

Why lie about that, Sally?

You're a strange wonder, my dear.

He doesn't offer more, because the scar was important for another reason.

It was part of a story he couldn't tell,

Even though there was now an apartment building on the site of the Victorian house,

where he had done most of his growing up.

The haunted Victorian house.

No reason.

Funny thinking, I guess.

The scar meant more, so he had made it more.

He just couldn't make it as much more as it really was.

That made little sense.

But as the glioblastoma continued its blitzkrieg, it was the best his disintegrating mind could manage.

Chuck's grandpa, his Zadie, died of a heart attack five years after the Fall Fling dance.

Chuck was a junior in high school, singing in a band and dancing like Jagger during the instrumental breaks.

He made all the arrangements himself,

came in a few weeks ago just to make sure everything was to the letter,

which I thought was strange.

Not many people bother to do that.

Most people, they come here once to set it all up.

They aren't anxious to come back again.

Next time I see them, they're in their Sunday best, if you get me.

He was a great man and a good friend.

He's been doing our books for 23 years and saved our skin more than once when the tax man was coming.

So do I owe you any money?

Not a penny.

He took care of that too.

Settled his tab that same visit.

You know, the strangest thing, and this will sound strange, so bear with me.

See, I dreamed of being a television weatherman in my solid days, maybe running networks.

Wasn't in the cards for me.

But I did spend the summer at WKNB.

Well, there was a guy at KNB who they said could feel a storm coming two solid weeks away without

the radar.

Had a sixth sense.

Damnedest thing I ever saw.

He used to make this face, this face when people talk about the travel plans, if he knew something they didn't.

Not a smile, per se.

No joy in it.

Just a knowing weatherman stare, I called it.

Him, I didn't have it.

Not me.

So I'm here, not there.

Your granddad had that same face when he was in here.

Like, he knew it was gonna rain.

And I was just a guy selling him an umbrella.

Weatherman stare.

I'm sure of it.

Strangest thing.

Albie left him everything.

More than enough to pay for his college education, and later on,

the sale of the Victorian paid for the house he and Ginny moved into after their honeymoon in the Catskills.

He flatly refused to move to Omaha to live with his mother's parents.

I love you guys, he said, but this is where I grew up and want to stay till college.

I'm 17, I'm not a baby.

So they, both long retired,

came to him and stayed in the Victorian for the 20-odd months before Chuck went off to the University of Illinois.

They weren't able to be there for the funeral, however.

It happened fast, as Albie had wanted, and his mom's folks had loose ends to tie up in Omaha.

Chuck didn't really miss them, if he was honest.

His Zadie hated a fuss, almost as much as he hated a crowd.

A day before they were scheduled to arrive,

Chuck finally opened the envelope that had been sitting on the table in the front hall.

It was from Sam Yarborough, owner and chief undertaker at Yarborough Funeral Home.

And inside were Albie Krantz's personal effects.

In this room, Chuck's grandpa had seen the Jeffries boy, body broken by the car.

He'd seen Henry Peterson hanging from the ceiling.

He'd seen his own wife lying dead.

And likely, Chuck supposed, perhaps the night Chuck had stolen his keys.

Albie had even seen himself, crumpled to the floor, still clutching his upper arm.

It's the waiting, he'd said.

That's the hard part.

Now, Chuck's own waiting would begin.

How long would that wait be?

Exactly how old was the man in the hospital bed?

There was a final bip from the unseen monitor.

And then that was gone, too.

The man did not fade, as ghostly apparitions did in the movies.

He was just gone.

Insisting he had never been there in the first place.

He wasn't, Chuck thinks.

And I will insist he wasn't.

And I will live my life until my life runs out.

I am wonderful.

I deserve to be wonderful.

And I contain multitudes.

Subtitles By William Bender
Contact : williambndr2024@gmail.com