THE TWILIGHT ZONE

Episode 102: "ONE FOR THE ANGELS"

Written by
Rod Serling
 ACT ONE

EXT. SKY [NIGHT]

Shot of the sky... the various nebulae and planet bodies

stand out in sharp, sparkling relief. As the CAMERA begins
a SLOW PAN across the Heavens --

NARRATOR'S VOICE
There is a fifth dimension beyond that
which is known to man. It is a dimension as
vast as space and timeless as infinity. It
is the middle ground between light and
shadow -- between science and superstition,
and it lies between the pit of man's fears
and the summit of his knowledge. This is
the dimension of imagination. It is an area
which we call The Twilight Zone.

The CAMERA has begun to PAN DOWN until it passes the

horizon and is flush on the OPENING SHOT (EACH WEEK THE
OPENING SHOT OF THE PLAY)

EXT. CITY STREET [DAY]

LONG ANGLE SHOT

Looking down at Lew Bookman -- dumpy, shabby little man in

a mangled seersucker suit, the pants too short and the coat
too long. A flamboyant tie askew at the neck with a
misshapen knot and a summer pork pie hat tilted rakishly
and idiotically at an angle on his head -- these set off
the odd, bizarre quality of the little man. He has a pitch
stand set up in front of him with perhaps two dozen items
-- everything from toys to needles and thread, cheap ties,
can openers, radio tubes, et al. It's a sweltering July
afternoon and Lew goes through a half-hearted, stumbling
pitch that attracts no one.

LEW
Here you are, ladies and gentlemen... nice
things for the home... wearing apparel,
toys... everything. Special July clean-up
sale!
LONG ANGLE SHOT LOOKING DOWN ON LEW

As he continues to talk. Over this tableau we hear the

Narrator's Voice.

NARRATOR'S VOICE
Street scene... summer... the present. Man
on a sidewalk -- age, sixtyish; occupation
-- pitchman. Name -- Lew Bookman. A fixture
of the summer. A rather minor component to
a hot July. A nondescript, commonplace
little man whose life is a treadmill built
out of sidewalks.
(a pause)
Lew Bookman -- a walking rebuttal to the
American dream that states that success can
be carved, gouged, and grubbed out of log
cabins and tenements. Because Lew Bookman
has not even a nodding acquaintance with
success, and his dreams only extend from
the curb to the sidewalk.

A pause.

LONG ANGLE SHOT LOOKING DOWN ON LEW

As he calls forlornly to a couple more passersby and then

just seems to give up and stands there, close-mouthed, head
half down. Suddenly, instinctively, he looks up.

CUT TO:

LONG SHOT OF HIM

From behind. A dark-coated man stands there staring at him.

The man turns so that his profile is in the f.g. He's
staring down at a small ledger that he carries in his hand.
Bookman looks at him interestedly and a little warily.

NARRATOR'S VOICE
But in just a moment Lew Bookman will have
something to occupy his time which
transcends both success and failure. He'll
have to concern himself with survival.
Because as of three o'clock this hot July,
(MORE)
 NARRATOR'S VOICE (CONT'D)
Mr. Bookman will be stalked by Mr. Death!

DISSOLVE TO:

OPENING BILLBOARD

FIRST COMMERCIAL

FADE ON:

EXT. STREET [DAY]

Lew stands silently by his pitch stand, heaves a couple of

extremely deep sighs and then slowly begins to close up the
pitch, automatically putting things in their places,
retrieving samples and buttoning the whole thing up. Every
now and then he rather compulsively looks up to see the man
in the dark suit staring at him. Finally he has the whole
pitch, buttoned down. He hoists It under his arm and starts
to walk. Just once he turns back to look at the man and
then continues on his way.

EXT. TENEMENT STREET [DAY]

Typical East Side, flanked by brownstones on either side,

pitch carts, children playing by hydrants, and a hot
populace sitting oh curbstones fanning themselves.

TRACK SHOT LEW

As he walks down the sidewalk. On several occasions

children wave and call to him. A few of them follow him to
the front stoop.

CHILDREN'S VOICES
Hi, Lew. How you doin', Lew? How'd she go
today, Lew?

Lew responds to every call. On occasion he'll stop, cupping

a child's face in his hands. The overwhelming sense of all
these actions and this interplay is a fabulous rapport
between the little pitchman and the children.

MED. CLOSE SHOT FRONT STOOP BROWNSTONE

A little girl, age seven, sits-on the stoop playing. She

runs excitedly toward Lew when she sees him. He swoops her
into his arms, hugs her tightly then puts her down then he
sits down on the steps. The children crowd around him, the
little girl in the f.g.

LITTLE GIRL
What you sellin' today, Lew? Toys, Lew?
Were you sellin' toys?

Lew holds up a finger in a gesture of extravagant,

mysterious silence. He opens the satchel and takes out a
little wind-up toy man, hands one to the child, There are
'oohs' and 'aahs' from the kids.

LEW
Now! You know what they are?

LITTLE GIRL
Toys, Lew, huh?

LITTLE BOY
You wind 'em up, don'cha?

LEW
They may look like toys.
(he shakes his head
pontifically and holds up a
protesting hand)
But they are not just toys, Just toys
anyone can sell. You can go to the five and
dime and get just toys. These are not just
toys. These, my young friends, are the toy
wonders of the world.

LITTLE GIRL
(wide-eyed)
Go ahead, Lew. Give us the pitch.

LEW
(clears his throat, looks
down at the starry-eyed kids
and the words come easily,
effectively, with import and
meaning)
Young ladies and gentlemen, the toys you
now hold in your hand come from a remote
corner of the mysterious Tibetan mountain
(MORE)
 LEW (CONT'D)
country. They are patterned, shaped and
forged by strange little men who work
underground. And in their final operation
--

LITTLE GIRL
(unable to hold back, blurts
out)
They are subject to the strange life force!

LITTLE BOY
Aw, come on -- let Lew tell it.

LEW
(laughs, hugs them both to
him)
You both know it by heart.
(then he rises very slowly)
Bookman social and ice cream hour after
supper at the usual time. Don't forget.

He winks and waves again.

TRACK SHOT LEW

He continues up the steps and into the foyer.

INT. FOYER [DAY]

LEW AS HE STARTS UP THE STEPS DIFFERENT ANGLES LOOKING DOWN

About five flights of staircases as Lew trudges up toward

the top, lugging his satchel.

CUT TO:

INT. LEW'S ROOM [DAY]

There's the sound of the key turning, then the door opens
and Lew enters. He goes directly over to the window and
opens the rather threadbare curtains, then humming a little
song, he crosses the room to the sink. The room is a
combination living room, kitchen and everything else. He
fills a small watering can in the sink then takes it over
to a row of flowers that bloom heroically on the
windowsill. Still humming, he puts the can down, starts to
take off his coat and in the process of turning, sees the
man in the dark suit sitting in a chair looking at him.

CLOSE SHOT LEW REACTING

TWO SHOT THE TWO MEN

LEW
You're the man from the sidewalk. I saw you
today writing things in your book.

He cranes his neck to look over on the man's lap. Sure

enough, the little ledger book is in sight.

STRANGER
You are Lew Bookman, aren't you?

LEW
That's right. Lewis J, Bookman. Something I
can show you?
(and then in a kind of half-
hearted hope)
Something in collar stays, maybe?

STRANGER
Mr. Bookman -- I'm not here to buy
anything.

Lew hunches down on a kitchen chair. His fingertips

nervously run up and down together.

STRANGER
(looks down at his ledger)
Now let's get to business, shall we? Lewis
J. Bookman, age sixty-nine, Right?

LEW
Seventy in September.

STRANGER
Occupation, pitchman. Right?

LEW
(nods)
That's right. Are you a census taker?
 STRANGER
(disregarding him)
Born in New York City, 1890?

LEW
That's right. 1890.

STRANGER
Father, Jacob Bookman, mother Flora
Bookman. Father's place of birth, Detroit,
Michigan. Mother's place of birth,
Syracuse; New York. Right?

LEW
(rises, peers over toward
the other man)
That's right. My, you have it all down.

STRANGER
(nods, bored)
We have to keep these things efficient. Now
today is --
(he talks as he writes)
-- the 19th of July. And your departure is
at midnight tonight.

LEW
My departure.

At this moment we hear the sound of running footsteps up

various flights of stairs, then a knock on Lew's door.

LEW
Excuse me.

He opens the door. The little girl stands there.

LEW
Hi, Maggie.

LITTLE GIRL
(holds up the toy)
The key's bent, Lew. Can you fix it?
 LEW
(takes the toy, studies it)
Here's your trouble right here. See this
little cog wheel? You've pushed down on the
key when you've been winding it.

The two of them bend over the toy.

LEW
(looks up at the man)
I'd introduce you two, only I don't know
your name.

STRANGER
(smiles)
No need.

LITTLE GIRL
I think I got it now, Lew.

He stands there, intent on the toy.

LEW
This gentleman here has come to ask me a
lot of questions.
(and then as a frightened
afterthought)
You're not the police, are you?

STRANGER
(shakes his head)
Hardly.

LEW
(to the little girl)
Kind of gave me a turn. I'm glad he's not
the police. I've got my vendor's license
here someplace. I thought maybe I'd forgot
to renew it or something.

LITTLE GIRL
(still intent on the toy)
Who's the police, Lew?
 LEW
This gentleman here.

LITTLE GIRL
(looks up briefly)
What gentleman?

LEW
(points to the chair)
That gentleman.

CUT TO:

CLOSE SHOT THE GIRL

CUT TO:

SHOT OF THE CHAIR GIRL'S P.O.V.

It's empty.

CUT TO:

CLOSE SHOT THE GIRL

LITTLE GIRL
What gentleman?

CUT TO:

CLOSE SHOT LEW

As he looks.

CUT TO:

CLOSE SHOT THE MAN IN THE CHAIR LEW'S P.O.V.

STRANGER
Mr. Bookman, she can't see me or hear me.

MED. SHOT

LEW
(looking from the man to the
girl)
Why not?
 LITTLE GIRL
Why not what, Lew?

LEW
Why can't you hear him or see him?

LITTLE GIRL
See who, Lew?
(and then delighted that the
toy is fixed)
It works great now, Lew. Thanks an awful
lot. See you after supper, huh?

She starts toward the door.

LEW
Wait a minute. What about our manners.
Aren't you going to say goodbye?

LITTLE GIRL
(at door)
Oh, yeah! Good-bye, Lew. Thanks a lot.

LEW
I mean to the gentleman.

LITTLE GIRL
(looks toward empty chair,
laughs)
Oh, it's a game! The invisible man. Good-
bye, invisible man. See you after supper,
Lew.

With this she gambols out of the apartment and we hear her
running footsteps, two at a time; down the stairs. Lew
closes the door very, very thoughtfully and turns toward
the man.

LEW
(very hesitantly)
I can see you... yet she can't.

STRANGER
Only those who are to accompany me can see
me. Understand, Mr. Bookman.
(and then pointedly)
(MORE)
 STRANGER (CONT'D)
Only those who are to accompany me can see
me!
(a pause)
Now don't you think you'd better start
making your arrangements?

LEW
(softly)
Arrangements for what?

STRANGER
For your departure.

LEW
My departure where?

STRANGER
(rises, staring at him)
You still don't get it!
(he takes a deep breath)
I just never will understand you people.
You get this idiotic notion that life goes
on forever, and of course it doesn't.
Everyone has to go sometime.

LEW
Go? You mean --

STRANGER
(nods, walking around the
room, surveying things)
That's right.

He stops and looks down at the flowers on the windowsill.

LEW
I won second prize last year at the YMHA
flower show. Wisteria, open class.

STRANGER
How nice.
(he turns and looks at Lew)
And what I further don't understand is how
little you appreciate the nature of your
departure.
(MORE)
 STRANGER (CONT'D)
Think of the poor souls who go in violent
accidents. These are the non- precognition
victims. We're not permitted to forewarn
them. You, Mr. Bookman, fall into the
category of --
(he clears his throat)
natural causes.

LEW
(takes a step toward him)
Natural causes?
(he points a slightly
wavering finger at the
stranger)
I find you a very devious sort. This is not
to say dishonest. Why don't you say what
you mean?

STRANGER
Mr. Bookman, I have done everything but
phone your own undertaker. How much clearer
do you want it? If you still don't know who
I am --
(he turns toward the
flowers)
then you are the most dense man I've come
up against.

CLOSER SHOT STRANGER

As he touches one of the flowers. It wilts under his touch,

falls forward on its stem and dies.

EXTREMELY TIGHT CLOSE SHOT THE FLOWER

The CAMERA PANS UP for a shot of Lew as he reacts.

LEW
You're... death?

STRANGER
(another deep sigh)
Exactly, Mr. Bookman. Now shall we get down
to business? Time of departure is midnight
tonight. I trust that will suit you.
(MORE)
 STRANGER (CONT'D)
The preordination is for death during nap.
I presume this too will meet with your
approval. You'll find this a relatively
simple and painless and barely noticeable
--

CLOSE SHOT LEW

Nervous fingers beat a tattoo all over his face and finally
he shouts.

LEW
Please! I don't want to go!

TWO SHOT

STRANGER
(to himself)
They never do.

LEW
But I can't go yet. There's nothing wrong
with me. I'm a healthy man. Outside of a
cold last winter and an infected sliver, I
don't think I've been sick a day in the
past twenty years.

STRANGER
That's as it may be, but departure time is
set for midnight and departure time will be
at midnight.

LEW
Don't I have anything to say about that?

STRANGER
We do listen to appeals.
(he opens the ledger)
But frankly, Mr. Bookman, I must tell you
quite frankly that there's very little here
in the way of an extenuating circumstance.
There are three major categories of
appeals. One is hardship cases. Now do you
have a wife or family who might suffer your
(MORE)
 STRANGER (CONT'D)
demise beyond a reasonable point?

LEW
(shakes his head)
No, no family.

STRANGER
Second category is priority cases.
Statesmen, scientists. Men on the verge of
discoveries.
(he looks up at Lew then
over to the pitchman's
satchel)
I take is you're not working on any major
scientific pursuit at the moment.

LEW
(in a whisper)
No, I'm not.
(then after a pause)
What about the third category?

STRANGER
Well, Mr. Bookman, that would be unfinished
business of a major nature.

LEW
(turns to look at the
stranger)
I've never made a truly successful pitch. I
mean... I mean a big pitch. I mean a pitch
so big the sky will open up.
(and then with intensity)
A pitch for the angels.
(a pause)
I guess that wouldn't mean much to you.
(he turns away again)
But it would mean a great deal to me. It
would mean... it would mean that --
(his face is very soft now
and reflective)
I could have one moment in my whole life
when I was successful at something. Just
one moment when the children would be able
(MORE)
 LEW (CONT'D)
to... would be able to feel proud of me.

STRANGER
(displaying no emotions at
all)
The children?

LEW
(nods, his face suddenly
carries with it a peculiar
brightness)
I've always had rather a fondness for
children.

CLOSE SHOT STRANGER

STRANGER
(dispassionately)
That's in the record here.
(then there's barely a
perceptible softening of his
face as he stares intently
at Lew)
Problem here, Mr. Bookman, is that you'd
require a delay until --

TWO SHOT LEW AND STRANGER

LEW
Until I could make a pitch. I mean the kind
of pitch I told you about.

STRANGER
(with a half-smile)
One for the angels, you mean?
(there's a brief pause)
I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Bookman... you see
these categories are fairly specific and
when reference is made to unfinished
business of a major nature, well the only
interpretation to be made here is simply
that... what I mean is that unfortunately,
Mr. Bookman, the ability to achieve success
in a given professional venture is really
(MORE)
 STRANGER (CONT'D)
hardly of a major --

He stops abruptly, suddenly conscious of the face of Lewis

J. Bookman. Suddenly aware of the poignance of it, the
pathos of it, the infinite sadness, and with it the
infinite gentleness and kindness. The Stranger clears his
throat, looks away, drums with his fingers on the ledger,
then looks back at Bookman.

STRANGER
Mean a great deal to you, does it?

LEW
(intensely)
A great deal.

STRANGER
Uh huh.
(purses his lips, drums
again with his fingers,
walks over to the window
then turns back to Lew)
All right, Mr. Bookman. Under the
circumstances I believe we could grant you
a delay.

LEW
Until?

STRANGER
(pettishly)
What do you mean, "until?" Until you've
made this... this "pitch" you're talking
about.

LEW
I can stay alive until then?

STRANGER
That's the arrangement.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

As his eyes narrow and a very wise, rather cat-got-canary

look covers his face. Then he smiles.
 LEW
I think that's a fine bargain. It's been
awfully nice talking to you... Mr... I
didn't get your name.

He opens the door and motions.

TWO SHOT

STRANGER
(heading toward the door)
Now about this pitch, Mr. Bookman. When
might we expect it?

LEW
When?
(he giggles)
Oh, soon. Soon. Maybe not this year. Maybe
not next year, but soon.

CLOSE SHOT STRANGER

By the door.

STRANGER
Mr. Bookman, I have a very odd feeling that
you're taking advantage of us.

LEW
Do you really? Well now that's a pity.
(then he giggles again and
slams the door shut and
shouts)
Because I am!
(he turns from the door and
rubs his hands together)
I just won't make any pitches at all. I
won't even hardly open my mouth.
(he strides over toward the
windowsill)
Think you'll get me, huh? Well, I just
won't --

He stops dead, staring toward the mirror over the sink.

There, he sees the reflection of the stranger back in the
room.
 STRANGER
Really, Mr. Bookman, this is much more
serious than you imagine --

Lew goes to the door in a rush, flings it open and hurries

out, starting down the steps.

CUT TO:

FIRST LANDING

The stranger stands there and waggles a reproving finger at

Lew as he passes him.

STRANGER
It's much more complex than you realize --
what you've just done.

Lew keeps going past him, shutting his eyes in the hopes
that perhaps he'll disappear.

CUT TO:

ANOTHER LANDING

As Lew comes down. The stranger stands here too.

STRANGER
Here we have gone out of our way to help
you and this is the way you repay us --

Lew takes a long, shuddering breath as he waves the

Stranger off, going past him down the steps.

CUT TO:

FOYER ANGLE SHOT LOOKING UP THE STEPS

As Lew comes down. The Stranger steps out into the frame,
his back to the camera and facing Lew.

STRANGER
Mr. Bookman, it won't just end here, you
understand. There'll be consequences, you
see!
CLOSE SHOT LEW

As he wiggles his head back and forth in a gesture of

disdain, points a wavery finger at the man, his voice
fairly dripping with contempt and with power.

LEW
FYI! That means, for your information --
you have made your bed and you shall now
sleep in it! You say I won't go until I
make the pitch -- well all right! You'll
have to wait till I make the pitch! And
young man... this I can say to you without
fear of contradiction -- you have got a
long wait!

CLOSE SHOT THE STRANGER

His eyes narrow thoughtfully.

STRANGER
That may well be, Mr. Bookman. But since
you won't come with me -- we have been
forced to select an alternative!

At this moment there's the sound of shrieking brakes from

outside. A woman's scream. And then a jumble of excited,
frightened, horrified voices. Lew turns, pushes open the
front door. The CAMERA FOLLOWS him outside.

EXT. STREET MOVING SHOT BEHIND LEW

As he pushes his way through the crowd and finally reaches

a little knot of people on the curb. They part for him and
reveal the body of the little girl lying on a blanket on
the sidewalk. The truck driver, in a leather jacket, kneels
beside her then looks up, wringing his hands.

TRUCK DRIVER
I swear I didn't see her. She just jumps
off the curb and I didn't have no chance to
stop! I swear to you, I never had no chance
to stop!
 LEW
Has someone gone for the doctor? The
ambulance coming?

There's a chorus of assent.

CLOSE SHOT LITTLE GIRL

As Lew bends down by her. He pushes a wisp of hair off the

tortured little face and kisses her cheek.

LEW
You're gonna be all right, Maggie, darlin'.
You're gonna be just fine.

The little girl opens her eyes, smiles wanly.

LITTLE GIRL
Hi, Lew!

Then her eyes travel past Lew as a shadow crosses over her
face. She looks a little frightened.

LITTLE GIRL
Lew? Lew, who's that man?

CLOSE SHOT LEW

As his face turns.

ANGLE SHOT OVER LEW'S SHOULDER LOOKING TOWARD THE STRANGER

Who stands over them.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

Reacting, his eyes wide with horror.

MED. CLOSE SHOT LEW

As he rises.

LEW
(in a voice that trembles
with intensity)
You can't take her. No siree -- you can't
take her! I'll go. I'll go as planned.
(MORE)
 LEW (CONT'D)
Never mind the pitch. I'll go right now. I
don't want to wait, even. I want to go
right now!

LONG ANGLE SHOT LOOKING DOWN THE SIDEWALK

As Lew races in one direction, shouting.

CUT TO:

LONG SHOT LOOKING DOWN THE SIDEWALK

As he turns and races toward the camera.

CUT TO:

LONG SHOT FROM THE TOP OF THE STEPS

As Lew races up them until the camera is extremely tight on

him.

LEW
(shouts)
Mr. Death? Mr. Death -- I'll go. You
mustn't take the little girl. I'II go.
Please, Mr. Death.

FADE TO BLACK:

END ACT ONE

 ACT TWO

FADE ON:

EXT. BUILDING [NIGHT]

LONG SHOT LOOKING TOWARD THE FRONT STOOP THROUGH THE OPEN

DOOR INTO THE FOYER

We see several neighbors crowded around the little girl's

apartment door. Somber, waiting, silent people. A doctor
comes out, putting his sleeves down, walks through the
neighbors. We hear hushed questions.

VOICES
How is she? Is she gonna be all right, Doc?
How's the little girl, Doc?

The Doctor continues through the crowd outdoors to the

front stoop where Lew stands waiting.

LEW
Doctor?

DOCTOR
(takes out a cigarette,
lights it, inhales deeply)
I don't know. She's a mightily sick little
girl. But we'll know by midnight. I think
she'll hit a crisis by then.

LEW
(looks up at him)
By midnight?

DOCTOR
(nods)
I think by then.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

His features look set, grim.

LEW
He won't come in! I won't let him come in!

DISSOLVE TO:
INT. POLANSKY APARTMENT [NIGHT]

The little girl, Maggie, in bed beside the window. She is

unconscious. A cheap alarm clock, in on the table beside
the bed, reading: 11:40.

EXT. BUILDING [NIGHT]

LONG ANGLE SHOT LOOKING DOWN

On the front stoop. It's very late now. Lew sits there, a
long figure guarding the front door. Alongside of him is
his pitch stand. He looks at his watch and intermittently
scans the street.

LONG SHOT LOOKING AT THE SIDEWALK

As suddenly the light from the street lamp is momentarily

eclipsed by a big black shadow.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

Reacting. He looks up and across the street.

LONG SHOT ACROSS THE STREET

Out of the shadows and into the periphery of light around

the street lamp comes the Stranger. He walks very slowly
across the street to stand a few feet away from Lew. Lew
looks up.

LEW
You got business in there?

STRANGER
(nods)
I most certainly do.
(he takes out a pocket
watch, snaps it open, looks
at it, snaps it shut, puts
it back in his pocket)
It's a quarter to twelve. In fifteen
minutes. Midnight. That's my appointment.

LEW
Mr. Death... the little girl is only six
years old.
(MORE)
 (CONT'D)
(and now a hysteria creeps
into his voice. He takes a
step down toward the
Stranger)
Please... I'm ready now.

STRANGER
(firmly but not urgently)
I'm sorry, Mr. Bookman. We had to make
other arrangements. It's impossible to
change it now. She's to come with me at
midnight.
(he makes a gesture
resigned, hopeless)
So I must be in there at midnight.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

His features work. His voice is strained and tight.

LEW
And if you're not in there by midnight?

STRANGER
(with a short laugh)
That would be pretty much unheard of. If I
didn't get there at precisely midnight then
the whole timetable would be upset. Oh my,
no... it's unheard of.

FULL SHOT THE STEPS

As Lew starts to very slowly walk back up toward his pitch

stand, picks it up, carries it down to the sidewalk, opens
it up and starts to arrange the merchandise.

STRANGER
What are you doing, Mr. Bookman?

LEW
(over his shoulder)
What am I doing? Oh, nothing. Just setting
up a pitch is all.
 STRANGER
At this time of night?

LEW
Oh, I very often have a late-night sale.
Very often.

STRANGER
(looks up and down the
street)
Not many customers.

LEW
(again over his shoulder)
They come! They show up.
(he turns now, the pitch
stand set up, standing
behind it, looking at the
Stranger)
You're here anyway.

STRANGER
(laughs softly)
Oh, yes, I'm here. But I'm afraid I --
(he waves toward the
merchandise)
I'm not much of a customer.

LEW
How do you know? Have you ever seen my
stock?
(a pause)
Now you take a tie like this right here --

STRANGER
Like what?

Lew looks down. In his shaking hand he's holding a toy

walking man.

LEW
Excuse me. Right here.
(he picks up a tie now)
See this? What's it look like to you?
 STRANGER
It looks like a tie.

LEW
Feel it.

STRANGER
(feels it, shrugs)
So?

CAMERA DOLLIES IN FOR EXT. TIGHT CLOSE SHOT LEW

As he starts to talk. We go in and out of focus on him

several times as he speaks, interspersing this with shots
of the Stranger standing there open-mouthed at the spiel.
At each dissolve more and more people come into the scene
to listen.

LEW
If you'll feast your eyes, my good man, on
probably one of the most exciting
inventions since atomic energy. A simulated
silk so fabulously conceived as to mystify
even the ancient Chinese silk
manufacturers. A perfection of detail... an
almost unbelievable attention to detail. A
piquant interweaving of gossamer softness.

He continues to talk, the words spewing out on top of one

another and intermittently we see the Stranger, his mouth
half open, almost mesmerized by the pitch.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. POLANSKY APARTMENT [NIGHT]

The little girl, Maggie, in bed beside the window. She is

unconscious. The alarm clock on the table beside the bed,
reading: 11:50.

TWO SHOT LEW AND THE STRANGER

Under his arm the Stranger now has several boxes of ties
and Lew is still talking. He's holding up a piece of
thread.
 LEW
Witness, if you will, a demonstration of
tensile strength. Feel this, if you will,
sir.

The Stranger tentatively touches the thread. Lew yanks it

away.

LEW
Unbelievable, isn't it? As strong as steel
and yet as delicate as Shantung Silk.
Picture, if you will, three hundred years
of backbreaking research and labor to
develop this, the absolute ultimate in
thread, And what will you pay for this
fabulous... I say fabulous, incredible and
amazing development of the tailor's art?
Will you pay twenty dollars or ten dollars?
Or even five? You might indeed if you were
trying to purchase this at a store. But
this fantastic thread is unavailable in
stores. It is smuggled in by Oriental birds
specially trained for ocean travel, each
carrying a minute quantity in a small
satchel underneath their ruby throats. It
takes eight hundred and thirty-two
crossings to supply enough thread to go
around one spool and tonight as my special
get-acquainted, introductory, mid-July, hot
summer sale I offer you this thread not at
thirty dollars. Not at twenty or ten, but
for the ridiculously low price of twenty-
five cents a spool.

CLOSE SHOT THE STRANGER

His shirt is open. The tie askew. He looks punchy.

STRANGER
I'll take all you have.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. POLANSKY APARTMENT [NIGHT]

Maggie in bed. Clock reads: 11:55.

DIFFERENT ANGLE LEW

Now the stranger is loaded down with boxes, bags, etc.

Behind him and flanking him are other people, also holding
onto things they've bought.

ANGLE SHOT LOOKING DOWN

At the top of the pitch stand as Lew's hands rummage

through, pulling out things, yanking at them, separating
them, and his voice constantly over this in a steady stream
of chatter.

LEW
Sewing needles. Yarn. Simulated cashmere
socks. Odd lots of leather. Marvelous
plastic shoelaces. Genuine static
eradicator. Fits in any standard radio.
Suntan oil. Eczema powder. Athlete's feet
destroyer. How about nice Shantung scarves?

CLOSE SHOT LEW

Sweat rolls down his face. The merchandise comes in and out
of his hands as he grabs at other things while he talks.

CLOSE SHOT THE STRANGER

He's only semi-conscious now, his eyes lolling, his mouth

hanging open.

INT. POLANSKY APARTMENT [NIGHT]

The little girl, Maggie, in bed beside the window. She is

still unconscious. The alarm clock on the table beside the
bed reading: 11:57.

EXT. APARTMENT TWO SHOT LEW AND STRANGER

LEW
And now for the piece de resistance. The
bargain of the evening. An item never
before offered in this or any other
country.
(he waits a dramatic beat)
One guaranteed, live, human, genuine
(MORE)
 LEW (CONT'D)
manservant.

STRANGER
(weakly)
How's that?

LEW
For what I ask you, sir, receive a willing,
capable, worldly, highly sophisticated,
wonderfully loyal right-hand man to be used
in any capacity you see fit.

STRANGER
(again mystified)
How's that?

LEW
(without missing a beat)
Me. Lewis J. Bookman. The first model of
his kind. He comes to you with an absolute
guarantee. All parts interchangeable. A
certificate of four year's serviceability.
Eats little. Sleeps little. Rests only a
fraction of the time. And there he is at
your elbow. At your beck and call whenever
needed.

CLOSE SHOT STRANGER

He shakes his head as if getting out of the trance and he

has to smile.

STRANGER
Mr. Bookman -- you are a persuasive man --

LEW
I challenge any other store, industry, or
wholesale house to even come close to
matching what I offer you here. Because, my
dear man, I offer you...
(and now suddenly for the
first time his voice starts
to fade)
I offer you here...
CLOSE SHOT LEW

His features suddenly go lax. His eyes half close. The

sweat pours down his face. Suddenly his hands fall to his
sides. His head goes down. He has to support himself on the
railing. He stands there for a long silent moment and then
from off screen we hear the sound of a child crying. And
concurrent with this after a moment is the sound of distant
chimes that ring twelve times.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

As he looks up, listening.

CLOSE SHOT STRANGER

As his hands dive into his pocket to pull out the

stopwatch.

STRANGER
(wailing)
It's midnight. It's midnight and I've
missed the appointment.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

His eyes close in massive relief.

MED. LONG SHOT THE DOOR

As it opens. The doctor comes out carrying his black bag,

Mrs. Polansky behind him.

DOCTOR
Just give her the sedatives every three
hours, Mrs. Polansky. All she needs now is
rest. But she's going to be all right!

He winks, smiles, goes down the steps past Lew and then
down the sidewalk, disappearing. The CAMERA PANS OVER for a
shot of the Stranger who slowly shuts his watch and puts it
back in his pocket.

STRANGER
One minute past twelve, Mr. Bookman. And
you made me miss my appointment.
 LEW
(nods, softly)
Thank God.

Slowly, as if in a dream, he shuffles over to the pitch

stand and starts to shut it up. He pauses for a moment then
sits down, buries his face in his hands.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

He's suddenly aware of the Stranger standing very close to

him. He looks up.

TWO SHOT

STRANGER
A most persuasive pitch, Mr. Bookman. An
excellent pitch. It had to be to... to make
me miss my appointment.

LEW
(nods and smiles)
Yes, quite a pitch. Very effective. Best
I've ever done.
(then he smiles, looks off a
little dreamily)
That's the kind of pitch I've always wanted
to make. A big one. A pitch so big... so
big the sky would open up.

CLOSE SHOT THE STRANGER

STRANGER
A pitch for the angels.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

LEW
(nods)
That's right. A pitch for the angels.
(and then suddenly his smile
fades, his eyes look down,
he turns away)
I guess... I guess it's time for me now.

TWO SHOT
 STRANGER
(with a deep sigh)
As per our agreement.

LEW
(tilts the hat on the back
of his head)
Well, I'm ready.

STRANGER
After you, Mr. Bookman.

The two men start to walk down the steps to the sidewalk.
They take a few steps down the sidewalk, then Lew suddenly
stops, turns.

REVERSE ANGLE

Looking at the pitch stand on the stoop.

CLOSE SHOT LEW

LEW
You'll excuse me for a minute? I forgot
something.

LONG SHOT LOOKING AT HIM

As he walks back to the stoop, folds up the pitch stand,

hoists it under his arm and then walks back down the steps
toward the waiting Stranger.

TWO SHOT

LEW
(patting the stand)
You never know who might need something up
there!
(then a pause as suddenly
his face takes on a
questioning look)
Up there?

STRANGER
(nods and smiles)
Up there, Mr. Bookman. You made it!

Lew smiles, hoists up the stand again.

LONG ANGLE SHOT

Of the two men as they slowly walk down the sidewalk away
from the building. Over their walk we hear the Narrator's
Voice.

NARRATOR'S VOICE
Lewis J. Bookman. Age, sixtyish. Formerly a
fixture of the summer. Formerly a rather
minor component to a hot July. But
throughout his life a man beloved by the
children and therefore... a most important
man.
(a pause)
Couldn't happen, you say? Probably not in
most places. But it did happen in... The
Twilight Zone.

FADE TO BLACK:

THE END