Beautiful Music
THAT 70's SHOW
by Jennifer Ryan
06/05/07

:)

Golden Slumbers

I can be found directly south of the stars, where I am the most insignificant creature in G-d's creation; the most dispirited and definitely the most vincible. I decided to feel sorry for myself for awhile after Fez took Leo home, but babysitting a stoned Kelso and Eric made that quite impossible. Sneaking from our basement hideout, I slip quietly through the sliding glass door and am greeted by frigid winds and unnerving silence. I stand alone in the driveway, grateful for a few peaceful moments, trying hard not to feel so depressed.

Night has fallen, coming as it always does - as little more than an inevitability. I turn my gaze toward the darkening sky and fall in love with multiple shades of sapphire showered in stars. I wish for a moment that I were it's architect, that something so masterful was the result of my design. What I would give to be the brilliant magician - the artist who weaves the stars to the sky. Instead I am Steven Hyde, whose only claim to greatness is that I painted the word dickweed in blue flames on the side of my shop teacher's Chevelle.

Eric and Kelso have decided that I am a square whose singular goal is to bring them down by refusing to take them to The Hub for a cheeseburger and a milkshake. They don't seem to understand the meaning of words like "high flying" or "night in jail" or grasp simple concepts like "Red's foot in your asses." I drag the kidlets into the backyard to shoot baskets, hoping to keep them occupied until they can get straight. I toss the ball to Kelso repeatedly and it lands at his feet, which only causes him to laugh until he can no longer breathe. Eric lies in the grass to make a sloppy, ugly snow angel - an activity in which young Kelso is eager to participate. When I point out that snow angels require snow, they inform me that the lack of it will render these angels invisible. Morons.

Despite my efforts to distract them, neither has quit complaining about food, which - as long as we don't hit up one of our usual places- might not be a such bad idea after all. I need to keep them busy until the high wears off and for every minute they spend making snow angels on the lawn we run the risk of shattering Reginald and Katherine's delusions. So we walk to Chuck's pizza, a place few adults dare to enter and where little English is spoken.

It's owned by these brothers from Vietnam named Tuan and Thanh, and I'm ashamed to admit that despite the fact that one of them is an amputee bound to a wheelchair, I never remember who is who. The pizza isn't bad at all here, but in a prejudiced little town like this, the customer base is limited to people too young to be pissed about the war. In other words, when they moved in next to The Country Market and Kitty wanted to try a calzone, Red told her the place was run by slant eyes and the menu choices would no doubt be stuffed with lo mien noodles and stray cats.

Needless to say, the first time I came was with Leo, as he is free of such arrogances and a true cosmopolitan. In contempt of the hateful gossip about these young transplants, he marched into their shop and introduced himself and me as the Point Place Welcome Wagon and their new best friend. He handed them a fat rolled joint and despite the barrier in language and culture, we were now bonded to one another. We smoked the whole thing and the brothers spoke to Leo in their language, and I smiled as he nodded his head frequently, as if he really understood them.

That day a closed sign hung from their front door and smoke poured from the back, a tradition often repeated at the least likely of times. I remember carrying groceries home for Kitty and the other shoppers walking by wondered aloud what disgusting foreign concoction they could possibly be preparing, vowing never to find out. I almost dropped the grocery bags when Kitty paused in front of the building and wondered why that odd smell seemed so familiar.

I stuff the kiddies into a booth and turn out my pockets in hopes of some change for the jukebox, which Kelso scoops up greedily, challenging Eric to play American Pie as many times as possible. I grab three root beers from the cooler by the register, pausing to take in a calendar shot of a half-naked Asian girl. A voice from below screams something completely unintelligible and I turn to see the wheelchair bound brother behind me, hollering to his twin in mixed English and Vietnamese. "Thanh! PEPPPERONI CHEESE NOW!"

I smile at his effort to speak my language and am greeted by Thanh, who doesn't feel the need to remove the cigarette from his mouth as he scolds his brother for depressing people by being so visible. "Git in back room, asshole!" Much to my embarrassment and discomfort, Thanh apologizes to me and explains that cripples are bad luck. I sigh, feeling worse than I did when I got here; something I didn't realize was possible.

I hand him cash and order two sausage with extra cheese, which he repeats to his brother several times in both languages. Taun yells "PEPPERONI CHEESE, PEPPERONI CHEESE!" repeatedly, to which Thaun counters "SAUSAGE CHEESE, STUPID ASSHOLE, DAMMIT!"

I set the bottles on the table and sit across from the boys, watching them wage war with straw papers. They look out the picture window, laughing at stupid shit and each other, blissfully unaware of the fucked up world that spins around them. I retrieve our pizzas from the counter, pretending not to notice they are pepperoni instead of the sausage for which I asked. Kelso teaches Eric how to fold the pieces into a sandwich and cram them down his throat, but I ignore them, listening instead to the brothers fighting in the kitchen.

Thanh keeps it up with the "STUPID ASSHOLE!" references while Taun fights back in Vietnamese. I pick at my slice as they push through the door and past the counter, Taun's wheelchair moving as fast as it will go. He struggles with the front door as Thanh places two sausage pizzas in front of us. Kelso attacks the fresh pies, remarking that people talking in Vietnamese sounds just like Red yelling at Eric. Normally, I'd laugh at that, but Taun is sitting outside our window, arms stretched toward the sky, crying out to no one in particular, "WHY! WHY ... WHHHHHY!"

So much for keeping a low profile. I light a cigarette and tell the boys to finish eating fast, because I firmly believe just seeing that kind of shit is bad luck. I make Eric and Michael hold hands with me when we cross the street, amid the dirty looks of the passers-by not distracted by the crippled foreigner screaming at the sky, and drag them home as quickly as I can. Our journey is covered by the same stars I marveled at in wonder only hours ago, and I lament that the Heavens can be so overwhelmingly beautiful when the world is so sick.

Now that they've stuffed themselves and burned off a bit of energy, it's not hard to convince them to sleep. It's quiet and now and some of my anger has dissipated. I flip on the tube in the living room and rifle past crap until I find Johnny Carson, whose guests tonight are John Ritter and John Denver. Three great John's all in one place; I can't lose.

During the break, my eyes close for only a short second before I wake to find myself surrounded by frigid, rising waters. It feels more bizarre than shocking and I try to understand why this is happening. I open the front door and am quickly submerged in an ocean that reaches as far and as wide as I can see. In the distance a little head bobs around, so I swim closer to investigate and discover it is Jackie. She tries desperately to grab onto something, but the water washes her far from safe harbor. She cries out and the closer I get, the more panicked we both become. I take hold of her jacket and pull her closer, but suddenly she's not in it. I take a deep breath and dive, but do not find her until I surface. She's floating on a little raft with Donna and I can't believe my eyes as they wave excitedly and blow me kisses, drifting off into the distance.

The waters are rough and unbelievably cold, which makes it hard to maintain, but I do. When Red floats by and demands to know which of us morons left the faucet running, my first thought is to blame Eric - until I realize I don't know where he is. How could I be so stupid; watching out for him is my responsibility. A group of children splash nearby and I find myself drawn toward them. As I close in, it is clear that one of them is little me. Wow, little me with a little fro! Another is little Eric in feetie pajamas and he's being dunked repeatedly by little Kelso. Little Fez floats by and says menacingly, "You did not even know me when I was eight, you bastard, so stop dreaming of me."

Little Kelso shoves little Eric under water and holds him down too long, so I swim over and frog him in the arm. He drifts away, crying that he'll tell his mom on me, but I pay no attention. I reach down to save baby Eric, but when I pull him up he's grown. He puts his arms around my neck and smiles, looking goofy with too long hair plastered to his face. I kiss him lightly and embarrass us both when a gaggle of children, including another little Kelso and little Fez, begin laughing and taunting us.

Eric looks unsure. "Everyone will say we're crazy."

I tell him, "Everyone always has." He rests his head on my shoulder and holds on to me and I sing to him in a whisper, Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry ... and I will sing a lullabye. We float together for one comfortable moment of relief until he is pulled under in a violent rush. I dive and search to no avail, terror escalating with each passing second and coursing through me in a dizzying jolt. I dive and search without success, determined to retrive him or share his fate. G-d help me, he can't be far; I just held him in my arms. When I break the surface, Red is swimming away with him. I try so hard to follow, but children surround me and one of them grabs my hand and pushes it under water, where a million little needles stab into it. I hear them giggle and I wake.

Kelso and Eric are each on the floor next to the couch and Kelso is holding my hand in a bowl of ice water. Kelso tells Eric this will make me piss my pants - that it's probably even a scientific fact.

"The only fact is that I'm going to kick both your asses." They startle and scatter as I lunge, forcing me to chase them down and smack them both. Kelso crawls back to the basement, laughing his ass off, but I drag Eric back to the sofa with me. I lay a pillow in my lap and he falls down on it and lets me pet his hair. Once we hash out the details, this is how life will be all the time; quiet and nice. At least, I hope it will, because that's my dream.

"My mom said you had a job interview this morning."

"I did. I got jobs for us both at THE Holiday hotel."

He perks up immediately. "No shit?"

"None at all. We also get room 307 on most of our off nights and tickets to a concert next month."

I can't see his face, but I know he's smiling. "We have a hotel room?"

"The heating / cooling unit in 307 is broken so they don't rent it out. Oh, and some drug dealer got shot in the face there back in '71."

"Cool." He's very still and quiet and I can tell he's thinking hard. We really haven't had the opportunity to talk much about this, what with the being stoned thing and all the other stuff. This is a huge deal and it will mean a lot of changes, more so for him than me. "I'm worried."

"I know you're worried, but are you scared?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"You either think so or you know so." I feel him shrug against me,so I rub circles on his back. "Alright, what's the worst thing that can happen and if it happens, can you live with it?"

"My dad would disown me ... and tell me he hates me ... and that he wishes I was dead ... and then he'll shove his foot up my ass."

"That's crazy talk. He won't wish you were dead. He'll definitely stick his foot in your ass, though." He doesn't laugh or say anything and he's tense as a coil. "You're scrawny and you play with dolls; it won't be much of a shock." He still doesn't respond so I bring up the fact that his uncle Marty plays for the pink team. He looks up at me in confusion and I add, "Well, he's still alive isn't he? Not only did Red let him live, he also invites him over every Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years Eve. Not once did I ever see evidence of a foot print anywhere near his ass."

"I feel confused, I guess. Wait, you looked at my uncle Marty's ass?"

That's the spirit, kiddo. "We've had a hard couple of months. We graduated. Jackie moved to Chicago with her aunt. Donna took off after her. Your dad had a heart attack; Fez married some whore."

"Hey, that whore is my sister!"

"Sorry. Fez married some skanky whore.

"Thank you, that's better." He smiles and turns to face me. "I always thought we'd graduate and everything would be magically cool, you know. We would like - do these things and they would be really great and there'd be a lot of money and ... this stuff. At least we'll have low paying jobs at THE Holiday Hotel for the next sixty years."

He forces a smile, afraid we're doomed to follow his father's example of working hard and just scraping by. I understand his worries better than he might think. There's a whole world out there for each of us to face. It's different when you're a kid - no one expects much of you, other than for you to screw up. Then we hit the magic number eighteen and now we're on our own in too many ways. The world that once hosted an endless party is suddenly cold and a little frightening. When I'm forty, I won't think working in a hotel is a great job. I doubt I'll be proud of it when I'm thirty and probably even by next next year I'll be too embarrassed to admit it to anyone.

Maybe if we work hard and save, we can move to Madison in a year or two and he can go to school like he's always wanted. The world is changing so fast and we can't rely on the factories like our parent's generation did. With the economy in such dire straights, we're lucky to find jobs at all.

"I never pictured myself with a real job or a family of my own, but I always pictured my mom and dad there. I did kind of hope Laurie would be in prison or Alaska or something equally lame."

"No matter what ever happens, your parents aren't going anywhere. I know you can't see that now, but you will. They aren't Bud and Edna."

I smile and ask if I was a part of this generic future vision of his and he tells me that in his wildest dreams, I never left my corner of his basement. I stare off into space, trying to come up with a tactful way of posing a delicate question. "Listen Forman, do me a favor and don't bust my nuts, okay, man. If you don't want this, tell me now. I will learn to live with it."

He shoots up in surprise. "Does everything have to be decided tonight?"

"No, not everything; THIS. Just THIS."

"And what is THIS? Are you in love with me? Are we going steady? Are we married?"

I say "Yes, yes and yes," sounding a little angry without meaning to do so. He seems stunned and tells me there are a hundred things for us to work out. I cover his mouth with my hand to silence him. "Not tonight there's not. Tonight you do or you don't. Everything else will fall in line after."

He hesitates and stares at me too long, and just when I'm sure I've lost him, he kisses the hell out of me hard and I see stars.

:)

When I hit the kitchen, I find I'm the last to wake. Red is reading the paper, Mrs. Forman is cooking everything, and Kelso and Eric are eating pancakes and scrambled eggs.

Kitty fixes a plate for me and ruffles my hair. "I see three boys had a little slumber party last night. Why didn't you say anything? I would have made tacos."

"Oh, it's OK Mrs. Forman, Hyde bought us pizza." Kelso jams a giant folded pancake into his mouth and proudly proclaims, "I ate two whole pizzas myself!"

She giggles in that way she does when somebody, especial Kelso, says something stupid or inappropriate. "Well, isn't that just ... very nice."

Red folds down his paper and tells Kelso that pizza is just one of the many benefits of being gainfully employed. "Steven has a job, Steven get's a pizza. It's basic American economics."

"Correction," Eric raises his fork, "Steven AND Eric have jobs, thank you."

Red's expression goes from stunned disbelief to unbridled joy. Either that or he's having another heart attack. He hits the table with his fist and smiles, "I just knew that if you got off your lazy ass and put in an application, some idiot would hire you."

"Scoff if you will father," Eric smiles. "Get in a good laugh, because your ONLY son and his ... unkempt friend who just happens to live in the basement, are going to be waiters at the fanciest - and only - fine restaurant in the tricounty area. Needless to say we'll not only be looking down on people like yourself, but they'll surely give us a short list of French vocabulary words to 'bandy around', if you will."

"Hardy har har. As long as the two of you are out of this house and earning enough to get your own apartment, daddy is happy."

"Apartment!" Mrs. Forman grabs us both under our chins, "look at these sweet little faces; they're only eighteen."

Unfazed, Red replies, "You know, when I was eighteen I killed a man in war."

"Whoa ," Kelso says as if he's just realized, "if you guys got your own apartment we could really party!"

Red turns to him and asks Michael if he has a job. Kelso shakes his head and Red says, "Then get the hell out of my house."

I watch Eric eat bacon and think how great everything is working out. We talked for over three hours last night, all about new jobs and love and sex and nerves and being a family. I even let him tell me about the Star Wars holiday special he's waiting to watch next month. So help me, if he asks me to pretend I'm Han Solo, I'll fucking clobber him. The thought makes me smile. Eric's eyes meet mine and he smiles, too.

"Hey!" Red's hand waves in the air between us.. "Quit looking at each other like a couple of pansies; it's making me nervous." He returns to his morning paper, thankfully uninterested and blissfully unaware.

:)

To be continued ...

:)

For those illegally downloading the soundtrack

:) Golden Slumbers / Carry That Weight by The Beatles
:) Blinded by the Light by Bruce Springsteen