You unlock this door with the k e y of ima Gina t/on.
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 shadowand substance,
of things and ideas.
You've just crossed over into the twilight zone.
Hello? Anybod y home?
Yeah.
Mr. Fenton?
Yeah, that's right.
Mrs. Boles down the street sent me over.
She said you wanted someone to take care of your lawn?
I rang the doorbell, but nobodyanswered. Then I heard your rad/o.
The front door was wide open.
Oh, yeah, yeah, that's right. Come on up.
If it's just the front you want taken care of,
I can handle it for, oh, seven bucks a month.
That sounds fair enough.
I'll come every Wednesday if it's convenient.
Sold.
Great. Thanks a lot, Mr. Fenton. So long.
No, wait a minute. Come on up. We'll sit down and have a beer on it.
No, thanks just the same.
No, I mean it. I've got plenty on ice.
You can make a small fortune up here helping me clean out this junk. How about it?
Well, ten minutes.
What did you say your name is, boy?
Arthur. Arthur takamuri.
Arthur? Well, that's funny.
What is?
Why Arthur?
Why not? I was born in this country.
Sure. I didn't mean anything.
I'm as just much American as anybody.
Well, now, who said you're not?
You're too darn sensitive.
Yeah, I guess I am.
Truth is, my name is taro. I changed it.
A Rose is a Rose, you get what I mean?
Oh, what a mess. This attic's been like this for 20 years.
Knee-deep in junk. I found some stuff I haven't even seen since the war.
Can you imagine I once got into it?
Sure, why not?
Yeah, you're just being polite.
I'm a tub of rancid lard now, but I was pretty tough once.
I went all through saipan and okinawa.
Yeah. Check my fruit salad. Crazy, huh?
You ever seen one of these?
Yeah.
It's a genuine samurai sword.
Not a fake like most you see around.
I took it off a jap officer who tried to cut off my noggin.
There's something engraved on it. Maybe you can translate it for me.
Sorry, I can't speak any language but English.
Oh, come on, boy.
My mother spoke Japanese, but me, I never learned.
You said you wanted me to help you clean up this junk.
Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's right.
But first I've got to get a couple of beers. My throat's full of dust.
Throw anything you want on the floor and sit down. Be back in a jiffy.
I'm gonna kill him.
Why?
Two men al one in an a 7770.
A young Japanese-American and a seasoned veteran of yes terda y's war.
It's 20 odd years since Pearl harbor,
but two ancient opponents are moving into position
for a battle in an attic, crammed with skeletons,
souvenirs, mementos, old uniforms and rusted metals.
Ghosts from the dim reaches of the past
that will lead us into the twilight zone.
Well, here we are, n/oe and cold.
You, uh, you partial to beer, Carl?
The name's Arthur.
Oh, yeah, yeah, I forgot. It's just that, uh...
Well, you don't look like an Arthur to me.
You don't look like a soldier, either.
Well, you got me there, boy.
And while we're at it, Mr. Fenton, I get bugged by "boy."
Europeans are always calling the natives "boy,"
and moaning about the white man's burden.
Well, the facts are, I'm a full-grown man. I work for a living,
and I answer to Arthur takamuri.
And believe it or not, sometimes to Mr. Takamuri.
Oh, brother, are you wound up.
You do this every time a guy offers you a beer?
Now here, take it. Go on.
I'm sorry. I guess I got a headache from the sun.
Ah, forget it, forget it. The war's over.
But in case you don't know it,
there ain't a service man who saw combat in the pacific
who doesn't respect the Japanese.
They fought like tigers,
and it was rare you could take them without killing 'em.
Banzai.
O Kay. Banzai.
Say, uh, where'd I leave that pigsticker?
What?
You know, the sword.
Oh. Didn't you leave it on this table here?
Well, that's where I thought I left it.
But it's not there now.
Boy, that thing gives me the willies.
It's funny if I lost it. I've been trying to lose it for years.
Never could make it though.
I should have left it instead of picking it up as a souvenir.
You know what I mean?
You know, I've...
I've tried to give it away,
sell it, hock it,
throw it out with the garbage.
But it always comes back.
Oh, nothing supernatural. I don't believe in that jazz.
But when people refuse it, even wrapped as a gift,
when the men on the garbage truck bring it in,
well, you give up after a while.
Say,
you wouldn't like to have it, would you?
No. What would I do with it?
Why, give it back to me, of course, point first.
I don't know what you're talking about.
I was just kidding. Don't let it bother you.
I don't blame you for not wanting it.
It's a pretty ugly thing.
Especially with what's engraved on the blade. Oh, sure, I know what it says.
I had one of our interpreters translate it for me right after I got it.
It says "the sword will avenge me."
Isn't tha t it, Arthur?
I wouldn't know.
Come off it, Arthur.
Mr. Fenton, I work for a living, and I'm kind of in a hurry.
Listen, taro. What's all this stuff about working for a living?
You mentioned that twice. Don't you think I work for a living?
I didn't say...
I've been working for a living ever since I was a kid
and at a job a lot tougher than mowing lawns, I'll tell you that.
Right up until last week when I got laid off, I drove a cat.
You know what a cat is, Arthur? Well, I can tell you this, it ain't no sports car.
It's a big earthmover.
You ever move the earth, Arthur?
Nah, of course not.
You manicure it.
I've got to get going.
Oh, what? t's the rush? Sit down, drink your beer.
Just tell me where you hid the sword.
Where I did what?
You buried it somewhere to get it out of the way.
You're crazy.
I left that sword right there on the table. I remember it distinctly.
Listen, taro,
excuse me, Arthur,
are you by any chance afraid of me?
Why should I be?
Well, I can think of a couple reasons,
one being my background.
I was in a fighting outfit. You know what that means?
Well, it's not like the recruiting posters, I can tell you that.
A nice, clean-cut lad who helps old ladies across the street.
He has to be a highly-trained combat machine
with split-second reactions in place of emotions.
He's on wires, on his toes. His nerve ends are dead,
and he's as cold and as hard and as rigid as his helmet.
In fact, there's nothing, nothing more terrible to meet on a dark night
than a fighting man with an m1, a Thompson, a grenade,
or even his bare hands.
Over here! Come outand die.
Some dirty son of heaven,
out in the jungle just asking for it.
So I-I thought I'd oblige.
Started circling out behind him.
A simple exercise for somebody
with more luck than brains.
Waita minute, waita minute. I was only telling you how it was.
I'm sorry.
Boy, for a minute there, I thought you were gonna...
I don't know what got into me.
I really don't.
You used that sword like you were mowing a lawn.
You didn't get that sword the way you said you did.
No?
No. You shot that officer after he surrendered.
You're crazy.
The Japanese officer dropped the sword and surrendered.
You killed him in cold blood.
All right, so what if I did?
So what if I did?
I don't know. That's your problem.
I don't feel well.
What am I doing here? I've gotta get out of here.
Mr. Fenton, the door's stuck!
Well, you must be weak. Pull on it.
It won't move. Did you lock it?
Now, how could I do a thing like that?
It hasn't got a lock.
Here, let me try.
Well, it looks like you're not supposed to leave just yet.
What do you mean?
I don't know.
I don't know what I mean.
Well,
I don't know what's making it stick.
It never did that before.
But never mind, boy. There must be some tools up here.
We'll take it off the hinges.
Nah, forget the window. It's too high.
Well, we could break a pane of glass and yell for help, but let's save that for last.
See if you can find a screwdriver.
Well,
look at the boy.
Becoming a samurai?
Well, forget it, boy. You couldn't make it.
Now, if you ever try to come at me with that thing again,
I'll chop you up like hamburger.
I don't like thatkind of talk, Mr. Fenton.
No?
No. I got a short fuse, so don't strike matches.
I grew up in Honolulu.
I was at Pearl harbor when it was bombed.
Were you one of the pilots?
I was four years old.
My father and mother lived in Hawaii all their lives.
My father worked for the Navy as a civilian.
Oh, yeah? Doing what?
He helped build the docks at Pearl.
He was foreman of a construction gang.
He was a war hero.
He was on the docks when they came that Sunday morning.
He was there when the first wave of bombers came over,
standing there, watching men of his own race
destroy what he'd built with his own hands.
The bombers flew overhead.
I stood on the hillside where we lived,
looked up at the sky and saw them.
And my mother held my hand and tried to make me run inside the house.
B u t I sto o d.
And I watched the planes
while down below at the harbor, my father was trying to warn the sailors,
trying to tell the men on the ships what was happening. But the bombers came anyway,
and I could hear the boom, boom, boom, boom as the bombs exploded.
And I could see the smoke.
And my mother was crying,
and my father was yelling to warn the sailors, yelling for them to fire back.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Planes circled overhead. They dropped their bombs.
That's not the way it happened.
He was a traitor.
He signaled the planes.
He showed them where to drop the bombs.
He was a traitor.
My old man was a traitor.
I gotta get out of here.
Arthur! Arthur!
Now, you'd better sit down and have a fresh beer. You need it.
Aw, that's stupid.
Y-Y-You come up here to make a few bucks mowing lawns.
I ask you to have a beer,
because, well, if you must know, I was kind of lonesome.
My old lady got-got teed off last night
and went to sleep over at her sister's.
But she'll be back.
I-I guess I drink too much.
You know, Arthur, you're a...
You're a pretty nice Joe. You know, I knew that right away when I first saw you.
Well, that's why I asked you up to have a beer.
So I can-i can tell you, man to man,
it's been pretty rough lately. I...
Well, they canned me from my job.
Put somebody else on the cat. Can you imagine?
Just-just-just because I had a few lousy drinks one day.
Ah, no.
No, it wasn't the booze.
That was just an excuse.
It's all that cheap labor they're bringing over here.
Yeah, they're letting them in from everywhere.
Mexico, Puerto Rico, China, Japan. Foreigners.
We make ha waiia sta te. Look what we get.
Ah, I'm...
I'm getting off the subject.
My wife. Well, like I said,
she... went over to sleep at her sister's last night.
Said she was all washed up with me.
Can you tie that?
Now, that's gratitude for you.
But she's gonna come back. Mm-hm.
She knows what side her bread's buttered on.
And if she doesn't,
well, who needs her?
Who needs her?
A man can make it alone, huh, Arthur?
I mean, well, women are a dime a dozen.
Anybody that's been to the orient knows that.
What's the matter, Arthur?
Or do you want me to call you taro now?
Listen, kid, don't take it so hard.
I mean, you know, just because your old man
was a sneaky little double-dealing traitor, that doesn't mean you are.
I mean, what? t the devil? You don't ha ve to go and change your name and all
and-and forget you know how to speak Japanese?
There was sneaks and double-crossers on both sides.
Like you.
Now wait a minute. Wait a minute, buddy.
You're no better.
You're a murderer. You killed a defenseless man.
Now, take it easy. What happened on okinawa, you can't blame that on me.
Now, we were told not to take prisoners.
Tha t's right. "No prisoners," they said.
Well, you-you can't hold a man responsible
for obeying orders, now, can you?
In the pacific, we were told that you guys weren't even human.
You were-you were some species of an ape.
And not to worry about burning you out of the ca ves.
Now, all of a sudden, you're fine people, highly cultured.
And-and it's propaganda about your lousy transistor radios.
Put that sword down, Arthur, and let's have a beer together.
I don't like to drink alone.
Arthur?
Well, Arthur, didn't I tell you? I'm all alone now.
My wife up and left me.
I called the foreman on the job yesterday, and he hung up the phone.
I'm not such a bad guy, Arthur.
Why is all this happening?
Why?
All right.
Don't answer.
If that's what you're here for, kill me.
Go on, I dare you.
Come on, taro, I'm waiting for you.
Oh. So, that's it.
You're just trying to scare me.
Well, all right.
I'm scared,
but not of dying.
Of living.
I can't make it, Arthur, or taro, or whatever your name is.
There's nothing left. Nothing!
I've got a box full of decorations over there.
Decorations!
First, you're an ape, and now all of a sudden
you're-you're some kind of highly-cultured people.
I've been pushed and pulled this way and that way
until I hate everybody, you dirty little jap!
Banzai!
Two men in an a 7770, locked /n mortal embrace.
Their common bond and their common enemy: Guil t.
A disease all too prevalentamongst men,
both in and out of the twilight zone.
And now, Mr. Serl/ng.
Next time out, we move into the area
of graveyards and the dear departed,
and we tell you a story about a most distinctive type of fella
who happily enough has an equally distinctive profession.
He raises the dead.
On the twilightzone next time, John dehner, Stanley Adams and j. Pat O'Malley
lend selective talents to a little item called Mr. Garrityand the graves.