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You unlock this door with the key of imagination.

Beyond it is another dimension-

a dimension of sound,

a dimension of sight,

a dimension of mind.

You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance,

of things and ideas.

You've just crossed over into the twilight zone.

Let's get with it, conklin!

A tight office is a happy office.

Idle hands make for an unproductive poop deck.

Belay that, miss abernathy.

Extraneous activity is nothing more nor less

than sloppy seamanship, in a manner of speaking.

You there, fenstermacher!

Let's keep an even keel there,

in a manner of speaking.

Let's keep an even keel there, man.

To all of you...

bear in mind that we must all of us go aft,

climb up the old mast and, in a manner of speaking,

set our sights to a distant horizon.

Tight ship! A happy ship!

Damn the torpedoes of competition

and full speed ahead!

Well shot, mr. Conklin.

Right between captain bligh's eyeballs.

He's an exceptional voice; my ears are still ringing.

You know, that fat boy is headed for mutiny?

Where would you find a plank heavy enough to hold him?

When i think of all the kamikazes

they threw at us during the war,

wouldn't you think justonewould have hithim?

One of these days...

one of these days, all that noise

is going to come back and bite him.

I hope i'm around to see it happen.

This is roswell g. Flemington-

220 pounds of gristle, lung tissue and sound decibels.

He is, as you have perceived, a noisy man;

one of a breed who substitutes volume for substance,

sound for significance,

and shouting to cover up the readily apparent phenomena

that he is nothing more

than an overweight and aging perennial sea scout

whose noisemaking is in inverse ratio

to his competence and to his character.

But soon, our would-be admiral of the fleet

will embark on another voyage.

This one is an unchartered and twisting stream

that heads for a distant port called... the twilight zone.

Hello?

Hello?!

Who?

Oh, just a moment. I can't hear you.

Please.

Roswell! Roswell!

Could you turn that down just a little bit?

I can't hear a thing on the telephone!

Do you know what that is, madam?

Collector's item.

The actual sounds of the battleshipmissouri

bombarding okinawa!

But i can't hear who's on the phone!

Lay on, gentlemen, and let 'em know what's what!

Fire at will!

And by the good lord harry,

we'll show them how the navy treats aggression!

And that, madam, was an act of utter abomination

and the most callous vandalism.

May i remind you

that those were the actual sounds

of the battleshipmissouri bombarding okinawa?!

And there were only 100

such records in existence.

Now there are only 99.

What you have done, madam, is an act of desecration

not unlike the defacing of a statue of john paul jones.

What are you, madam, some sort of a fanatic?

Roswell, we've had this out before.

What was once an idiosyncracy of yours

is now an obsession.

This-this insistence on blaring noises

and running a household

like it was a destroyer escort on convoy duty-

the combination has now become quite impossible,

and i can't live with it.

Stand, madam!

Oh, knock it off, roswell.

You are an insufferable, noisy clown,

but you are not stupid!

I have had you up to here,

and my ears have had you,

and my stomach lining has had you,

and whatever part of the brain

that keeps a person balanced-

that's had you, too.

In short, roswell, ihave had you!

I am absolutely and completely thunderstruck!

Are you, now?

I am, indeed.

My own wife- and after 20 years!

20 years ago, roswell, i wasn't taken in marriage.

I waspipedaboard.

And after 20 years, the shrill piping

has become absolutely unbearable.

So, at this point, roswell, i'm leaving,

in a manner of speaking, the ship's company!

You're deserting me!

In a manner of speaking, roswell, you said it!

It wasn't locked, roswell.

It might interest you to know, madam,

that when i was a young chap,

i had a mother who insisted she was ill.

She was a whiny, petulant, complaining female

similar to yourself.

And when i would come home from school,

she would make me walk tiptoe and whisper.

Whisper... whisper... whisper.

You know, in our house,

we never had any cookies.

All we had were fudge brownies,

because they made less noise when you chewed them.

"Eat your brownie

"and run upstairs and change,

but keep it quiet."

And i tell you, madam, i had quite enough of that!

And that is why i went to sea!

And that is why i've spent my life

in the very wholesome, healthy and quite understandable pursuit

of the free and the unfettered.

And that is why i am the owner,

manager, chairman of the board and president

of the roswell g. Flemington model ship company-

second to none in the field!

Whose motto is, "damn the torpedoes,

full steam ahead for fun and profits."

I know the company, i know the president, i know the motto.

And i respond, mr. Roswell g. Flemington,

with the following nautical phrase

whichihave now taken to heart and will proceed to implement.

The phrase is, "lay aft, and dump the garbage!"

So, in a manner of speaking,

consider yourself dumped!

"Flight deck sounds of aircraft

leaving the carrierhornet."

Good riddance, madam!

I have never liked you.

I have simply suffered you.

Well?

Nothing abnormal, mr. Flemington.

No excess wax, no obstruction of any kind,

no inflammation.

By the great lord harry,

candor dictates, doctor, that i tell you

that as a ship's surgeon, you wouldn't make a cabin boy

in a manner of speaking.

Frankly, i think consulting another physician

might be an extremely practical idea.

I only wish you'd had a modicum of professional ethics

and given me this advice before you went through

the motions of this perfunctory examination.

As it is, i shall be dunned with your bill

as well as the bill of another ear specialist.

In point of fact, mr. Flemington,

i wasn't going to recommend another ear specialist.

Now, i had in mind perhaps some, uh, well...

some psychiatric help.

I presume you are being humorous, sir.

It is only that charitable outlook

that prevents your being called to accounts.

Psychiatrist, eh?

Well, let me tell you, doctor-

and i use the term loosely-

there are few people walking this earth

as sane as i am.

I bid you good day, sir.

Good day.

What do you suppose happened to lardhead?

Count your blessings, honey.

I've been here four years,

and this is the first time he's been late.

Wouldn't it be marvelous if his car

fell off the ferryboat with him in it?

The millennium, the absolute millennium.

Thus endeth the dream.

Good morning, mr. Flem-

i've been here five years and that's the first time

he's walked in without telling me

that the smoking lamp was not lit

and that we had to move full speed ahead

toward the shores of prosperity.

Maybe he's sick.

Something incurable, like barnacles on the brain.

Very good.

Conklin, get out your darts.

Only forget the portrait- shoot for the record.

That's odd.

Very odd.

I've been here ten years

and that's the first time i've seen him look frightened.

Let's keep it quiet out here.

I was just...

with your permission, mr. Flemington,

new shoes.

What have you got in them,

pipe organs?

This ship has got to shape up.

Repeat- shape up.

Noise is not efficiency.

Let's secure now.

And watch this noise.

Yes, sir.

Unless i'm very much mistaken,

it is one of those very odd phenomena, aural suggestion.

A person talks himself into believing occurrences

when they are figments of imagination.

Beyond that, there is definitely some suggestion

that you are resentful of your mother.

And have a preoccupation with her imaginary ailments.

My guess for the moment

would be that this feeling extended itself to your wife

who provided you with a similar mother image.

But i can tell you this, mr. Flemington,

and forgive me if i repeat myself:

These occurrences are pure figments of imagination.

I believe that, doctor.

Now, snap your fingers.

Well, do you think i, uh...

go ahead, snap your fingers.

Any abnormal sound?

Normal!

Stamp your feet.

Normal again?

Happily, delightfully, comfortingly normal.

You've cured me, doctor.

By the good lord harry,

if admiral nelson had had you at trafalgar,

he'd have saved both his eye and his arm.

In naval parlance, sir, you're 4.0.

4.0, sir, in a manner of speaking.

That's all right, mr. Flemington.

Slam it at will, be my guest.

You, sir, have the soul of a seaman.

Bless you.

Incredible.

Absolutely incredible.

Mind over matter.

My wife obviously the culprit

a miserable preoccupation with noise

literally planted the seed in my head.

Incredible what one crew member can do

to a whole ship's company.

And the whole business, mind over matter.

Madam, you are not welcome

on this particular quarter deck.

Nor shall i stay here, admiral.

I forgot some of my jewelry.

I will retrieve same

and then, whether you pipe me ashore or not,

that's precisely where i'll be heading.

And might i add this, madam...

despite your efforts to capsize this worthy vessel,

in a manner of speaking,

against the rocks and hidden shoals of petulance

and petty dissatisfaction, the ship remains tight

and all your efforts, worthless and wasteful.

Horatio, old pal,

let the following be my final comments:

You are an overgrown sailor boy

with an undermanned head.

You are so full of incredible neuroses

that i wonder that you haven't cracked before this.

Belay that, madam, belay that.

It just so happens i have had a psychiatric examination,

and if there is one thing wrong with me, it is you.

It is simply you.

And furthermore, madam,

i can tell you one other thing:

The whole business is mind over matter.

Totally and absolutely mind over matter.

Do you know what i can do to you?

I can shut you off.

Do you realize that?

I can literally shut you off

because i am a man of such incredible will

that i can do anything i want to do.

Now, go ahead.

Yell at me.

Go on, yell at me.

Because even now, at this moment

i am in the process of exercising mind over matter.

I am shutting you...

out.

Flemington, i really do wonder about you.

I wonder why no one has committed you.

I really-

see! See!

I have shut you out.

Go on, talk some more.

Really, roswell, you do need help.

You really do need help.

Incredible... mind over matter.

I want to shut her out, i simply shut her out.

Now, then.

What shall we listen to tonight?

"Anchors aweigh"?

"Midshipmans' march"?

Let's see.

"Actual sounds of japanese destroyer

"exploding in lada bay.

"Complete with boiler hissings,

fantail cracking and smokestack exploding."

Great, great.

Better get ready out there.

This will galvanize you properly.

Louder! Louder!

Make more noise.

Let's hear it.

Come on, let's hear it.

Louder!

When last heard from

mr. Roswell g. Flemington was in a sanitarium

pleading with the medical staff to make some noise.

They believed the case to be a rather tragic aberration

a man's mind becoming unhinged.

And for this, they'll give him pills, therapy and rest.

Little do they realize that all mr. Flemington is suffering from

is a case of poetic justice.

Tonight's tale of sounds and silences

from the twilight zone.

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