Bojack bursts through the front door and shouts, "Who the hell does Diane think she is!?"
Herb looks up from his laptop and stares at his husband for a moment until he sees that he's waiting for an answer.
"Your ghostwriter?" He tentatively offers.
The horse snorts. "Not anymore."
"What do you mean not anymore ?" Herb sits up quickly and pushes the computer off his lap. "Bojack we already went over this, you can't fire her over this whole Buzzfeed thing. Besides she already finished the book, didn't she?"
Bojack waves the offending final draft around in front of him, "It doesn't matter what she finished because this stack of wart-filled garbage isn't ever going to be read by anyone. " He slaps it with a thunk onto the coffee table and huffs off to the kitchen to bury his frustration in whatever snack foods they have in the house.
Herb twists around and gawks at him over the back of the couch. "Wait wait wait, you're just giving up on the book entirely because you don't like what Diane wrote?"
"No. I'm going to re-write the book myself." The horse proudly proclaims, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.
Herb resists the urge to scream.
Outloud.
Instead, he manages to grab a couch pillow in time to unload his frustration into it. Bojack fidgets with his hands nervously as Herb removes the pillow from his face and takes a deep breath.
"... Gonna give me a brain aneurysm..." He grumbles to himself before facing the horse again. "BJ… remember the reason you hired a ghostwriter in the first place? Even if you manage to work past your mental block, it would still take you another two years at least ..."
Bojack waves his hands around in front of himself in an unconvincing display of nonchalance. "No no that's the best part, it's due at the end of the week!"
Herb sputters, "The end of the week!?"
Bojack either didn't pick up on that emotional cue or outright ignored it because he just smiled wider, "Yeah so I have plenty of incentive to finish it this time!"
Herb struggled to find the right words to gently explain that he thought that was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard of sweetie, and maybe it'd be best if you didn't take yourself so seriously and just apologized to Diane.
Meanwhile, Bojack had gathered up as many snacks as he could in his arms and started to make his way to his office. Herb reluctantly followed and started to rub at his eyes as Bojack made himself comfortable behind his desk. He took a deep steadying breath, and paused to collect his thoughts before saying, "Bojack do you know how long it took to write an episode of Horsin' Around?"
"Uuuuuh, like two weeks, right?"
"Right."
Bojack just looked at him.
Herb took a step closer and gestured with his hands, "And that was with the help of a team of writers, yeah?"
"Yeah?"
He still didn't see what Herb was getting at.
Herb sighed, "BJ…. How are you possibly going to be able to write a book about your life, 50 years of stories, in 5 days?"
"Uuuuuuh, that's a decade a day right? I can do that! How hard can writing be anyway?"
Herb's eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed. "Excuse me?"
Herb's tone didn't quite go under Bojack's radar this time, but you wouldn't know it because the horse just barrelled on.
"Yeah you know, all 'ooh writing is soooooo hard. Look how smart and important I think I am when I go to coffee shops with my dumb laptop and my dumb notebook and do something anyone else with a laptop and a notebook can do!" Bojack ranted in a whiny voice as he pantomimed slapping his hands on a keyboard.
Then Herb planted his hands on his hips. Bojack definitely recognized this behavior and winced when Herb spoke. "You do realize, I'm a writer, right?"
He tried to backtrack a little, "Well, yeah, but you're not like a real writer, right?"
Bojack knew immediately that he had fucked up.
The energy in the room shifted violently, Herb stiffened and opened his mouth to say something, but shut it instead and only grunted. He turned away and stormed toward the door without another word.
Bojack grimaced and stood from his desk as he called after him. "Oh, Herb, I didn't, come on I meant that, I- you-"
"You know what?" Herb cut him off as he grabbed the door handle, "Good luck with your book Bojack. I can't wait to read it."
And with that the door was closed. Hard.
Bojack spent the next couple days holed up in his office, trying and failing to write his memoir.
He only ever came out to get food from the kitchen and slept on the couch he kept in there. Herb came in to check on him a few times, but Bojack would never say much during the visits, sticking to "I'm busy", and "Not now I'm on a roll here." So the checkups quickly became less about getting a read on the horse's state of mind and more about making sure he was still alive in there.
Herb hung around in the doorway as his husband typed away, eyes glued to the laptop screen and barely even registering the presence of another person in the room. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and glances around. For someone who had barely left the room, Bojack was somehow still making a bigger mess in there each time Herb checked on him. He wrinkled up his nose and made a mental note to get more disinfectant wipes from the store the next time he went.
He scratched at his beard, eyeing the many empty mugs and delivery coffee cups scattered around the room. "Have you been drinking anything other than coffee?"
Bojack grumbled something Herb couldn't make out and waved his hand at him. He guesses that whatever it was it was probably a no.
He crossed his arms tighter across his chest. "Have you slept since I checked on you last night?"
The horse muttered something that sounded almost like a real response, but not quite close enough for Herb.
The other man frowned, softness and worry crept into his voice, replacing the irritation he wished he could still hold onto.
"Hey, can I get an actual word or two here please?"
Bojack sighed and tore himself away from the screen enough to lean back into his chair. He rubbed at his eyes, looking miserable.
"I'm fine Herb. You don't have to keep checking on me."
Herb winced a little, Bojack's voice was sounding rough . "I know. I want to though. Not exactly jazzed about the thought of finding you passed out or something."
Bojack removed his hand from his face and made genuine eye contact with his husband for the first time in a couple of days. He doesn't have anything to say, but he feels like he should, the way Herb is looking at him and all.
He cleared his throat, "...I'm making progress."
Herb just looked at him, and he tried not to squirm under his gaze.
"Okay." Herb pushed off the doorframe and stood up straight. "If I brought you a glass of water would you drink it?"
That made Bojack's chest feel tight... or maybe it was the five cups of coffee he'd had already. He nods and turns back to his Word doc. "Sure. Just put it on the table when you come back."
Herb nods. There's a "thank you" on his tongue, but the spite of feeling like he needs to thank his husband just for drinking a glass of water keeps it in, so he leaves without a word.
Bojack means to drink the water. Since he said he would. But he doesn't even notice when Herb brings it in. He was too engrossed in a chapter about his time on Horsin' Around to notice anything else...
Bojack thought he remembered falling asleep in his office , but for some reason, he woke up in bed. He figured he must have mustered the strength to drag himself up there sometime in the night because there's no way in hell Herb could have carried him. He groans and rubs his face against the pillow before daring to open his eyes to the harsh light of the day.
And harsh is right. Was their room always so…. Loud?
He lifts his head up enough to peer around the bedroom. The bedroom, because this certainly wasn't his bedroom. Whosever it was it looked like it hadn't had any changes made to its decor in over two decades. There was something eerily familiar about it though...
He sits up and rubs at his eyes hoping when he opened them again things would look normal. But he had no such luck.
He hears some sort of music being played far away and shakes his head before realizing it was coming from downstairs. Herb must have the TV on.
His eyes are still pretty bleary from sleep, but he's sure he recognizes this living room. He's just not sure from where… He glances at the photos on the wall, he's in some of them but he doesn't remember them being taken. They're strange but feel familiar enough that he doesn't linger on them for long as he crosses the living room to push open the kitchen door.
Herb was standing in the kitchen, wearing a very brightly colored shirt and making scrambled eggs on the stove with his back turned to him. Bojack did a double-take.
Is that another staircase next to him? What kind of house has two staircases?
Before he could even grasp the scene in front of him he felt the words slip out of his mouth.
"Morning, where are the kids?"
Kids?
Herb keeps stirring the eggs, completely unfazed by Bojack's question. "Liv and Sabrina went to the mall together. And Ethan's in his room working on his science fair project I think." He looks over his shoulder at the horse and smiles. "Do me a favor and go check on him will ya Hun? The lights have been flickering more than usual this morning and I've afraid he's gonna bust the circuit breaker again."
As if right on cue the kitchen lights flicker and there's the sound of a small explosion from upstairs that shakes the house. The commotion is quickly followed by a young boy's voice.
"I'm okay!"
Herb just chuckles, but Bojack swears he can hear the laughter of at least fifty other people in the distance. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his ear, trying to get it to stop.
Herb turns off the stovetop and gave him a good look. He frowns and reaches out to the other man, running his hands over his face tenderly before resting them on his shoulders.
"Are you feeling okay? You look terrible. Are you worried about the big Nguyen case on Friday?"
Bojack smiles nervously and pats his husband's hands. "I- I'm fine. I just woke up with a headache is all… The what case?"
There's another sound, but it's clearer and closer than the laughter or the music. It sounds like the front door opening in the other room.
Herb slides his hands off Bojack's shoulders, "Oh, the girls are home." He says as goes to grab plates from the cabinet. Bojack is still trying to wrap his head around what's happening when the swinging door behind him is pushed open. He feels a tugging on the bottom of his orange sweater and looks down into the big blue eyes of Sarah Ly… Sabrina. Her name is Sabrina.
She flashes a blindingly bright smile up at him, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
He's sweating now. Did Herb forget to turn off the range? "What is it, Sweetie?"
She holds up a piece of paper, "Look what I got at the mall! It's an architecture degree!"
He swallows thickly and takes a step back. The room feels like it's spinning now and the lights are getting brighter too. Ethan's probably messing with the electrical again…
"A- A what?"
She's bouncing up and down in excitement, "And I got a Teen Choice Award award, and an MTV Music Video award, and daddy issues, and a drinking problem, and Herb get so worried about me sometimes-"
Herb laughs as he sets the table, and the clink of the silverware hits his ears like cymbals. "Woah slow down Kiddo!"
Bojack tries to turn to look at Herb but the lights are blinding now, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the roar of the audience's laughter drowns out his thoughts.
Panic sets in and a sick feeling grows in his stomach. "What's so funny? Why is everyone laughing?"
He feels a soft hand on his shoulder, "BJ?"
It was Herb's voice, it had to be, since no one else calls him BJ. But when he turns around, it's Charlotte who's standing behind him. She looked like she hadn't aged a day since 1986.
She smiles at him, "Can you believe it Bojack? I'm moving to Maine!"
"Cut!" Breaks through the fog and suddenly he's standing in the living room. His living room. Almost. He looks closer and sees that it's just a set. Thankfully the lights have dimmed enough for him to see but they're still uncomfortably hot.
He turns in the direction of the outburst and sees Herb holding a clipboard. The other man huffs and runs a hand down his face. "Char, your line is "LA is a tarpit. When you finally realize you're sinking, it's too late." He sighs, "It's fine, let's just take a ten."
The bell rings and Bojack tries to fidget as his brain struggles to catch up with what's happening. But his shoes feel sticky like the bottoms are covered in gum or something, and... is Charlotte getting taller? He looks down in time to see his feet sink through the living room rug and watches in terror as the entire floor dissolves into a thick black substance.
"I- I'm sinking, somebody help! The floor is tar!"
Charlotte casually sits down on the ottoman, bafflingly firm and stable as everything else in the room starts to sink. "Why don't you and Herb come with me? Come to Maine ."
Bojack chokes back a sob as he feels the tar creep up his legs. "I can't, I'm stuck!"
He looks back to Herb for help, but the other man is buried in his clipboard, too involved in his work to notice what's happening around him. Bojack's brain is running a mile a minute.
"I need help!"
Charlotte's smiling at him. "What do you say?"
"Do they have Pinkberry in Maine? I can't !"
"Go out there."
His mother's voice cuts straight through his panic, replacing it with ice-cold fear. He sniffles and wipes his sleeve across his eyes. Is he wearing a sailor suit?
His voice comes out small and shaky, "I can't."
"Can't lives in a house on Won't Street. You will not embarrass me in front of the entire Supper Club. I told them you were going to sing the lollipop song ."
He curls deeper in on himself, "But I don't feel like singing..."
She scoffs, "Nobody gives a damn what you feel. You've got an audience out there, and they want to hear you sing . Now you want your Mommy to love you?" She points right in his face, making him flinch. "Then you'll go out there and do the only thing you're good for." She shoves a large fake lollipop into his hands, "Which is singing the goddamn lollipop song ."
His lip is quivering and he feels a tear roll down his cheek and he grips the plastic prop, holding it tightly to his face as if it was his life preserver. He had almost forgotten this feeling. The feeling like he was alone, cast out at sea and drowning. He'd been feeling like that more often lately...
Cigarette smoke starts to rise around him and he tries to wave it out of his face to no avail. It fills the air, suffocating him, blurring his vision until it was all he could see. He covers his face with his hands amidst the thick grey air. He couldn't bear any more of whatever this was.
Some awful stress dream brought on by writing his book. If he could even call it that. If he's being honest with himself, in his more lucid moments between his coffee and energy drink riddled manias, he's mostly been writing gibberish and a couple of highly paraphrased stories.
I really thought I could write an entire memoir by myself in a few days?
God, why am I like this? Why don't I know how to be…
"Why don't you try being more like me?"
Bojack jumps in surprise when he hears a sudden voice and whips around to find himself face to face with... himself . Albeit striking a much younger figure, and wearing his old Horsin' Around outfit.
The other horse smiles brightly at him. " Hay there buddy!"
Bojack cocks his head to the side. "A- Are you… young me?"
The other horse snorts, "You? Neigh-way Jose ! My name is The Horse. I'm charming, and well adjusted, and super friendly but not so much so that it's off-putting. And I always know just what to say to make everything better, wrapping up everyone's problems in a tidy 22 minutes!"
He leans in close to Bojack and smiles wide. "The best part is that I have vulnerabilities just like everybody else, but just enough to make me relatable. That's the way to be!"
Bojack drops to the ground with a miserable huff, curling in on himself and covering up his face.
"It isn't that easy..."
There's silence for a moment, then Bojack hears the other horse take a couple of steps closer to him. He crouches down and sighs lightly and Bojack peeks up to see him flashing a sympathetic smile.
"Yeah, I know… But wouldn't it be nice if it was?"