A Trip to the Oscars - page 2
Wolves are unpredictable; even their behavior is strange to those who study them. Perhaps that’s some of the appeal. Did you know their eyes are blue at birth and only the alpha males in the pack are permitted to mate? When they’re born, wolf pups are both blind and deaf. They can also eat more than 20 pounds at a time. Another interesting fact: at any given time there are at least 15 people in the world who believe they’re suffering from lycanthropy. Medical professionals label it as a form of mental illness similar to Cotard delusion, in which people are convinced they’re dead and rotting from the inside out.
I should have been more upset about the incident, but it was I intruding upon their terrain, no?
*
Daddy do you hate animals? my daughter asked this morning over breakfast.
Of course not, sweetheart. What would make you think such a thing?
Stacey’s mom said.
Stacey’s mom said what? I asked.
Stacey’s mom said that only someone who hates animals could work in a zoo.
It’s not only a zoo, I said, It’s a school too.
I paused, taking a bite of toast and a sip of coffee, then said, You tell Stacey’s mom to mind her own fucking business.
My wife looked at me shocked at the outburst and my daughter gave us both an exaggerated eye roll.
Whatever, she said sarcastically, then grabbed her bag off the counter and headed out the door.
How old is she anyways? I asked my wife, who shrugged, took a sip of OJ and began flipping through the L.A. Times.
A few minutes passed in silence, save for the occasional slurp of juice or coffee, the momentary clatter of cutlery as we ate.
They think they can do anything nowadays, my wife suddenly muttered, more to herself than to me.
Who? I asked.
It took her a moment to realize I was speaking to her.
Oh...movie stars. Look at this. Isn’t this right by the school? she said, handing me the paper and tapping at a headline.
*
Cage Caught Dazed, Drunk & Nude Outside Hollywood Home
Actor and Los Angeles philanthropist Nicholas Cage, 58, was found in the early hours of Thursday morning by a security guard in the Westwood Palms subdivision, located in east Hollywood.
The security guard, whose name has not been released, reportedly approached Cage, who seemed “drunk or disoriented.” When Cage refused to come out of the bushes where he was hiding, the security guard called police, who arrived on the scene several minutes later.
Cage, nude at the time, had to be dragged out of the bushes and restrained by police.
“He refused to give an explanation as to why he was there at the residence and also refused to undergo a breathalyzer and field sobriety test,” said Sgt. James Holloway, the arresting officer. “He was then taken into custody.”
According to Holloway, police questioned the homeowners of the location where Cage was found and both residents denied knowing him personally, although they mentioned they’d seen quite a few of his films.
Cage has been charged with trespassing, using fighting words, indecent exposure and terroristic threats, for reportedly threatening Holloway and his deputy during the arrest.
He was booked into the Hollywood Community Police Station and subsequently released after posting a $15,000 bail. A court date has not yet been scheduled.
Upon his release, the Hollywood movie star was met by a flurry of reporters but refused to give a statement.
*
Jesus, I said, unable to conceal my surprise.
Didn’t know you’d become such a gossip queen, my wife said, snatching the paper back.
It’s not that, it’s just...a little bewildering, that's all.
Bewildering? What's so bewildering about it?
The whole thing.
My wife chuckled out loud, Since when have you become such an expert on what Cage is or isn't?
I've always been a Cage fan.
This is the first I've heard of it.
Well, I guess I just don't broadcast it.
My wife thought for a moment, then replied, I don't think we've ever even seen a Nicolas Cage movie together.
We haven't.
I don't understand then, when have you seen all these Nicolas Cage movies.
I shrugged my shoulders, but she persisted.
Seriously!
I sighed, then answered, I sometimes go to the theater.
With who.
Alone.
You go to the theater alone, when? You work during the day and we're attached at the hip on weekends.
On my lunch breaks, or sometimes after work.
You've been secretly seeing Nicolas Cage movies? she stared at me incredulously, then laughed, You are so weird.
I don’t only see Nicolas Cage films, I said in defense, but she ignored me.
Had our relationship deteriorated that much without my even noticing?
*
In truth they weren't all Cage films I was seeing, but most of them were, and so what? It’s not like I'm the first person to develop deeper connection with an actor. I'm not stalking him for Christ's sake. There’s just something that draws me toward him; it’s hard to put into words. I guess for me, Cage lives like he’s got nothing to lose, and maybe that's what's so enticing about him.
My wife was unaware of the awful nightmares I’d been having, or the extent of the details at least, the confusing circumstances and horrifying images of Cage's devouring maw. I'd also kept what happened the other evening from her. At the time I told myself I didn't want to worry her, but that was bullshit. I fabricated some story about being attacked by a mutt digging through the trash. Besides, both my wife and daughter didn’t seem all that concerned about it.
I was though, and felt an overpowering need for secrecy, coupled with a fair amount of shame.
My wife exited the kitchen.
I listened to her footsteps proceed down the hallway into the master bedroom.
When I was sure there was no chance she’d be coming back, I ran to the drawer, extracted a pair of scissors and carefully cut the article out of the paper to add to the rest of my collection.
*
My recurring nightmares had progressed into strange bouts of sleepwalking.
There’s nothing more terrifying than waking up in a strange place with absolutely no recollection of how you got there.
The other night I woke up seated at Clint Eastwood's dining room table. I was startled out of sleep when his wife came into the kitchen for a glass of warm milk. She went to the fridge and poured it. It wasn’t until turning to place it in the microwave that she noticed the dark outline of a person at the kitchen table. She dropped the glass, which shattered on the floor, and screamed. Her scream caused me to wake up screaming and before I knew it I had the retired version of Dirty Harry waving some kind of six shooter in my face.
Confused, I said, Is that a prop gun?
This incensed Eastwood and he shoved the revolver at me.
OK whoa! I exclaimed.
I tried to back away from the table and stand but he grabbed my shoulder with his free hand and pushed me back down.
Honey get the lights, he snarled.
His wife silently complied.
The kitchen was soon flooded with a dim, yellow glow.
Eastwood reached up⎯keeping the revolver trained on me with one hand⎯and pushed the light overhead with the tips of his fingers, just enough to make it slowly sway back and forth.
Nice touch, I said.
Shut up, he yelled, I’ll do the talking. What the hell are you doing in my home?
I thought about this momentarily.
Well? he shouted, pulling the hammer back.
He shoved the gun closer to my face.
I could feel the cold steel barrel on the tip of my nose and for a second, I was afraid I was going to sneeze. I didn’t want to startle the old man, whose trigger finger seemed itchy enough already.
I don't know how I got here, I explained. I'm your neighbor.
Eastwood thought it was bullshit and kept threatening to either shoot me or call the cops.
Let me call my wife, I said frantically, She’ll explain everything.
*
On the phone, my wife thought I was playing some kind of joke.
Only after repeating what had happened several times, then going out onto the Eastwood's back patio and waving at her did she believe me.
She rushed over, visibly upset.
It was difficult to tell if she was angrier at me or embarrassed by the circumstances.
My wife explained how I hadn’t been sleeping well due to my recurring nightmares and stress at work; that we'd seen a doctor (a lie) who explained that my newfound nocturnal escapades were an extension of those issues.
And really, they were.
They had to be.
I'd never sleepwalked or had such awful nightmares, never in my life.
Something was happening.
After she'd finished explaining, Eastwood finally grunted, and he and his wife offered their apologies.
Think nothing of it, Eastwood said, even going so far as to crack a few jokes.
One thing that remained a mystery though was how I managed to find my way inside their home in the first place. It was impenetrable, according to Eastwood, who mentioned several times it had a "top-of-the-line," security system.
Eastwood explained the door remained double-bolted at all times when they were at home; the windows locked from the inside. At night, an alarm system was activated. In addition to motion sensors placed strategically throughout the household, the system was also equipped with sensors on each door and window.
Gaining entrance did seem, in all honesty, virtually impossible.
We all quickly dismissed anything of the supernatural sort with a wave of the hand, but the mystery remained.
As we were leaving, Eastwood invited me over to watch the game on Sunday.
I said I’d bring the beer.