𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄

A/B █"Alternate realities are the future if not the present." "Yeah?" . "Minimal overlap." . A and B stroll Hollywood Boulevard. . "The universe is clipping." . "They say . . . They say there are places in this world where the fabric of reality becomes thinner." "They're always saying shit. There's a patch for that." "The fabric or the saying?" "Yes. Each hellmouth. Plugs and gags. We're all plumbing." "Some are plumbers." "Me? I'm a gullet and an asshole. A real eat-and-shit man." . "You fuck around, but have you ever felt hell's warmth at your feet?" "Like a cat lazing at the fireplace." "Earth's core, sure — but tell me — have you felt the furnace of Satan and his legions?" "What is it they're burning down there? Calories?" "Sinner kindling." "Truly." . "Who's your devil figure anyway? Horns and a tail? Anton LaVey guy?" "He ripped off a Don Rickles character you know." "I know." "You know Rickles has a star down here." "You know." "You know." "I do." "I know." "I know you know." . "I've seen it. I remember it. I remember everything I see, hear, read. It's a problem. I'm a sponge. You know what I don't remember is I don't remember fucking King Baggot." . They approach the star. . "Yeah, you got me. I don't know the fuckin' guy. Look, I'm just your tour guide." "I'd fire you if I were paying." "You'll pay in your own way." . "You reckon Anton LaVey's got one?" "A star?" "Yeah." "I mean, he was an organist, right? They honor musicians . . ." "The man laid pipe." "He was a Bay Area entertainer though." "True." . "Like Mac Dre, or Robin Williams." "Robin Williams' gotta have a star." "Of course he does." "You know who doesn't have a star is Clint Eastwood." "Really?" "Doesn't want one." "They can't just, like, give him one?" "Not how it works." "But everybody knows Clint Eastwood." "Yeah, he doesn't want anything to do with it." "Probably why tourism is down." "What?" "The lack of Clint." "Could be." . "They're pushing this Baggot nonsense on us like we don't know better." "We'll get to the bottom of it." . The ground rumbles slightly. . "Fuck was that?" "I don't know, probably a tweaker falling out of a tree."

"This motherfucker definitely never existed." "Just look at how new it looks!" "They're insulting us." "Ridiculous." "I do not remember this star being here." "Me either." "Like at all. At-all-at-all." "Not at all." "Bullshit is what I say." . "You know, people tell me all the time, they say — 'B, you are Hollywood.'" "Yeah?" "Yeah, and I never heard of the guy." "He's Old Hollywood, though." "You saying I'm new?" "I'd never." "I'm 'Hollywood B,' and don't you forget it."

"We're going to need to come back with tools." "Right." "Diamond-blade saw." "You've got one?" "[UNINTELLIGIBLE AUDIO] does." . "Do you think we'll get arrested?" "Could be good for us." "You got a clean sheet?" "Like a ghost." . "Anyway, hi-viz vests, no one will fuck with us." "You've got one?" "I have three." "Shit, alright." "Thrift store score. Knew they'd come in handy."

The saw went in easily enough. . "He's not real." "Can't be." . None of the near-distance nightlife seemed to question 3 AM demolition. . "I mean, are we real?" "Well, no." "You figure I still exist when I'm out of your eyes and ears?" "I've gotta figure." "Did I exist before you met me?" "Probably." "Only probably?" "Best I can give you."

They hadn't known they'd meet the man himself. Down there. Hadn't expected the hollow star to reveal a long ladder. But they'd followed it to its end. Descended. And now they are his captives. . Baggot throws his head back and laughs. Long peals of dramatic stage laughter. Dancing flames fill the dungeon in time to the upward thrust of his clawed hands. . King Baggot, in his (alleged) existence, primarily played the hero. He'd done a turn as Jekyll, and a double-turn as Hyde, in 1913 (allegedly). That's if you're a Baggot Believer. . I mean — how hard could it be? Fake a silent film these days? Child's play. Think it'd be hard to slip a forgery past all these screen-rotted credulous cretins? C'mon. Doubtful. . KING BAGGOT does not currently appear to be playing: . "I shall take mortality from you, and thus — rendered deathless — your suffering extends across the ages!" . A and B are lashed to a carved stone wall, in chains. . "Are we on drugs?" "We're, like, in the sewer, right?" "I think we already died." "You shall never die! Never!" "Fuck, man."

Baggot bangs his signature trident staff to the cavern floor. Shockwaves ripple to the surface. . A 4.4. A jolt. . "My fault." He sneered. . King Baggot, the Lord of Earthquakes. And of entertainment. . "The Most Photographed Man in the World . . .
The Face You See in the Moon." "To-kyo, Fris-co, Kath-man-du!" . Bang, bang, bang. . "I'll give you a 7.2!" Bang. Lima! Bang. Naples! Bang. Istan-bul! . Leaps, jazz hands. . "Feel my power! Feel my pull!" . The fiend makes a circular swing of his trident. Seismic waves and shifting plates. . "I! Am! Tek-Ton!" . A and B commiserate, helplessly sidelined: . "What in the fuck, man?" "What in the fuck." "I don't fucking know, man." "What the hell is that thing made of? Roswell wreckage?" . "SILENCE!" . Baggot's voice boomed strange echoes in the cavern. . . . .

"Look, I really just want to entertain people, okay?" . Roles reverse. . "My name — my real name — it's, it's Jerry, well it's Gerald, but, look—" . B wields the trident. . "So you're not King Baggot?" Forward thrust. "What? No, I— Look, of course I'm not 'King Baggot,' it's all fake." Withdrawn. "What do you mean?" "Everything. I made it all up. Look, I used to live down the way, right, on Las Palmas. Had rent control and everything. Nice little 1-bedroom. My own parking space. The whole bit. It was all good, man. All good. Had an easy job editing music videos, and, man, you know what happened." "Yeah." "Not a lot of music television these days." "Not for money, man, I feel you." "Right, so one day I get this bright idea to just Make Up a Guy." "Good town for it." "Yeah, you're in the right place." "I know, right? Convenient. So anyway, a King is born." . "What's with the Neptunian fusion?" . B bangs the trident. . "Jesus, be careful with that!" . A 3.7 hits Simi Valley. . (did you feel it?) "I thought the cat jumped on the bed!" She'll say. (you know her) . "You gotta lotta nerve dressed up like a cartoon devil talking about Jesus." "And you fellas got a lotta nerve bustin' into my place!" . A asserts: "It's our place now, Baggot." . "So what do we do, Jerry? We gotta kill you, or what?" . Pseudobaggot guffawing. . "You fellas aren't killers." "No?" "I've met killers. C'mon, kid, I've been years under Hollywood Boulevard!" "Fair." . "So what, you wanna take over for me?" "As like, Earthquake Satan?" "As King Baggot, the Lord of the Underworld." "Well where would you go?" "I set up a fake grave, some years ago . . . Similar set-up." "You have a second home?" "Yeah, east LA." "Like, Silverlake 'East LA' or you talking about East Los?" . Pseudobaggot smirked. . "Whittier Boulevard baby." "So what do you get up to over there? All earthquakes, or?" "Oh I've got a scepter that brings floods." "So you're, like, lazier there?" "Yeah, you know, it's my second place." . "But you want — what? Me, us? To take over for you?" "Oh I mean it's all gotten a little old, hasn't it? I mean, you knock Northridge down, chop Karachi, whatever, right? After a while it's just prank phone calls . . ." "You're ready to retire." "You could put it that way." "So you'd like to pass the torch." "It burns bright, my child." "The trident, even." "Very astute." "Can it, Jerry." . Pseudobaggot's mouth flattened. . "No way me and B are killing kids. Crumbling buildings. No way." "I mean, someone's gotta do it." "You're a real sick fuck." . "B, you know what to do." . The trident snapped in half more easily than you'd expect. Like any other gimmick. . "No! No!" . Pseudobaggot wailed. Echoes on echoes. In agony of his irrelevance. . "The gig is up." . And the ladder too. And the conversation. . A and B saw themselves out.