This blog post is going to have Craig Benzine in it, otherwise known as WheezyWaiter. I say this now to build suspense. It’s called foreshadowing or something.
So I’m sitting there in class in college. I just said something witty and the college professor has admonished me despite the fact the entire class just tittered and enjoyed my annoying interruption, as I am a cut up and a class clown and everyone adores me. If that isn’t a hint to where this is going.. but enough foreshadowing.
The college professor admonishes me anyway and reminds us that today is test time and he begins passing out small booklets which bring about grumbling and mumbling throughout the room. I snicker and nod my head to my fellow students with number two pencil in hand as we each dutifully accept our little booklets of boredom and settle into the silence and gloom. I look down only to see a blank, unlined page stapled to other blank, unlined pages. This causes me some frustration because I know it means that once again our professor expects us to make up our own questions based on his syllabus. He’s that lazy of a professor. He’s done this to us before. I look up from my test and contemplate uttering a vote of no confidence only to find he’s already returned to his desk and reading a fashion magazine. So I look to my left.
Outside is a lovely pastoral view of this college. Birds can be seen flying across a beautiful cloudless blue sky. Green shrubs and trees stand guard along a well manicured courtyard with paths and benches and light posts. It’s tranquil and beautiful and suddenly where I want to be rather than taking this test. I look to my right.
Over the shoulders of my fellow classmates there is a very large, arched doorway. The door is either wide open or there never was a door. I thought for sure there had been a door. The hallway stretches out beyond and disappears after several meters into a hallway going perpendicular. There are other doors and wood paneling and a well buffed floor. No one is standing around or walking about, as classes are in. It appears nonchalant and in its own way also tranquil, but distantly I sense a musical cue of sinister foreboding which causes me to almost wince and look away back at my test.
The test now has typed words in the upper left corner that are blurry at first but I strain to make them out. They say, “aren’t you supposed to be doing something important?” I look up.
The professor has begun drifting off to sleep. His fashion magazine is now slipping from his fingers onto the desk and his head is nodding like a sleepy kitten into his chest. I look to the left.
I see a lovely blue sky with no birds and completely fail to notice the courtyard is slightly absent. I look to the right. The hallway is now yawning and pitching in a manner that makes my stomach queasy, and completely fails to coincide with the laws of physics as I understand them.
I stand up and say, “There’s something wrong!”
The college professor wakes up with a start, “What? Why, no. There’s nothing wrong young man. Go back to your test.”
“That’s just it!” I exclaim, “I think this IS the test!”
The room shudders and shakes on cue, and everyone in the room all start running in different directions. This causes most of them to have to turn around, as there’s only one large arched doorway which does not at the moment appear safe for egress, yet eventually that’s where we all rush out. I’m falling behind them and I don’t look back. Instead I follow them through a long series of twists and turns involving partial buildings and partial earth. I think this is supposed to represent the building having fallen into a sinkhole of some kind, but the results are so piss poor as to completely fail me. This is very bad special effects here, haphazard and sloppily done. I find myself wishing to complain to someone about the CGI being so terrible, but I decide now is not the time as I am supposed to be running for my life. I also think I’m supposed to be climbing for my life if this was some sort of sink hole, but we’re not climbing. We’re just running. There should also be more people in front of me if the class was so full of students before but it seems we couldn’t get enough extras that day. As I make my way out of the sink hole and into a nearby parking lot, I hear someone exclaim, “they should have never placed the parking so close to the housing!” I admonish whoever said that, proclaiming that line makes no sense. None of the cars fell into the sink hole. I’m then told yes they did, and I point out that I just witnessed the terribly made but obviously too expensive CGI cut scene and there wasn’t a single car.
Then we cut to a far away shot showing the devastation of one building among a few others having fallen into a hole. The camera centers on a stout gentleman with a balding head and a beard who, as the camera zooms in on his melodramatically expressioned face turns out to be none other than Craig Benzine also known as Wheezy Waiter, he announces the line for which he has obviously been paid an insane amount of money:
“Let this be no surprise..!” and then he mumbles a word or two that I can’t make out from where I’m standing, before he continues, “…under angry skies!”
I look up at the sky. It’s still bright cloudless blue. I look back at Craig Benzine who’s smiling a toothy smile and his smile glistens in the sun and I’m like “what the hell was all that about? Whose dream is this anyway? It’s my fucking dream, how come he gets the final line? Why didn’t I get the final line?”
“CUT! Cut! cut!” The director walks over to me with a large yellow megaphone in his hand that he’s not using to shout at people with but he waves it melodramatically to let me know he’s the director. Otherwise he’s just some nondescript guy in a shirt and blue jeans. I don’t recognize him. He’s probably a friend of Wheezy. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem? This! All of this!” I’m waving about at nothing in particular, very upset.
Craig Benzine breaks character and walks over to me very apologetic, “I’m sorry man. I know this seems rushed. It’s all my fault. I took a red eye to get here and they just gave me the script like thirty seconds ago before this guy yelled roll it I mean I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry man, I’m not mad at you.” I take WheezyWaiter’s hand and shake it, “it’s an honor to meet you by the way,” I try not to direct my anger in his direction, “I’m not mad at you. Thanks for coming. It’s nice of ya to come all this way,” I let go of his hand and turn back to the director, “but I’m upset at all the rest of it! This was piss poor management from the start!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I want you fired, for one.” I point at the director’s chest. “And I want the writers fired and all the creative geniuses behind the last forty years of my sleep fired. This is not what I ordered. It’s never what I ordered. I want hot girls and delicious food and I wanna be a famous everything and I want special effects that don’t look like special effects and I wanna always say the cool impressive lines and not have other people say the good dialogue for me. You guys never give me dialogue.”
“We can’t show you the scripts!” The director waves the megaphone more, “You’re not supposed to know what happens next!”
“That’s no excuse!”
“How can we give you dreams you want if you’re not supposed to know what happens next?”
“Who says I don’t want to know what’s happening in my dreams?”
“You did! Thirty-five years ago! It’s in our contracts!”
“I meant I don’t want to know I’m in a dream! You put the bats on a string when I was five! Was that supposed to scare me? I could tell I was dreaming! You put them on a string!”
“I didn’t do that. You fired that guy. That was twenty directors ago.”
“I didn’t mean constantly surprise me. I meant don’t make it so obvious while I’m dreaming that I’m dreaming!”
“Zach,” Craig puts his hand on my shoulder, “They’re doing all this for you. All this was for you. They put me on a red eye for you. Now I’m going back home. Hope you had a good night’s sleep.” He walks away.
“Thanks man!” I call off after him, “It’s not you! You were great!” Even though he did screw up his line. And the camera pulls back as the director walks away sadly, and everybody walks away and I’m standing alone looking at an abandoned catering trolley about twenty feet away. “I wonder if they have shawarma?”
And then I woke up. Why was it Craig Benzine? Did they call Greg Benson first and he couldn’t make it? My dreams are stupid.