LOST
David Blain and the Plasma TV

“Marc!” Stew yelled across the theater lobby, receiving no reply. He walked to the concession stand and asked the employee where Marc was.

“These two guys grabbed him and took him somewhere. I don’t know. He said not to worry.”

“You didn’t call the police?”

“He said not to wor—”

“Damn,” Stew said, running back out the door. He ran down the street, disregarding Wiz’s warning, to Marc’s apartment, which was just down the hall from his own. When he reached Marc’s door, he could hear loud voices coming from inside.

“Marc! Open up, it’s Stew!”

The door opened and there was Marc, all smiles, “Stew! Come on in. I have to show you. I won a plasma screen TV from a contest I entered a couple of months ago. Remember that giant ransom note I had hanging in the lobby for that movie, “The Kidnapping”?

“Yeah, I hated that movie.”

“Well, I won for Best Display. These two guys ‘kidnapped’ me,” Marc said, making quote marks with his fingers, “and brought me home so they could install the TV. Awesome, right?”

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“What? How?”

“Nothing. I have to talk to you when these guys leave.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Right now, I’m just coming down from the adrenaline rush.” Stew plopped down on Marc’s couch.

“I’m sorry, man. Were you coming to my rescue?”

“Shut up.”

“Ferris Bueller, you’re my hero.”

“That’s it,” one of the installers interrupted. “You’re all hooked up. Enjoy. Here’s our card in case you have any questions.”

“Thanks,” Marc said, holding the door open as they left. Then, he turned back to Stew, “Shall we give it a test drive? Let’s see what’s on,” he said, picking up the remote.

“Later. Put the remote down. Remember the crazy guy I told you about?”

“The one who told you that you were an immortal? Yeah. Why?”

“Well, he didn’t really tell me I was an immortal. Just that we were brothers and that he was twelve-hundred years old, which makes him either… really old… or immortal. And if he is, I suppose it would be implied that I—”

“Whoa! You think he might actually be…? Did he give you a bunch of stone tablets to write down his memoirs on?”

“No, smarty-pants. He made a roomful of college diplomas appear out of nowhere.”

“A bunch of diplomas?” Marc’s face hung in disappointment.

“Yeah.”

“Not that impressive.”

“Marc, it wasn’t as if he held up a tablecloth and they magically appeared behind it as he pulled it away. They weren’t there… and then they were. No magic about it. It was… supernatural. I don’t get it. I figured you’d be all over this.”

“I have to admit, I’m more skeptical than usual. But it’s not like he’s claiming to be psychic or telekinetic. He claims to be an immortal. Yeah, I was disappointed before when he was just crazy. But now, if you’re saying he isn’t crazy… David Blain can make himself levitate. Can Wiz levitate?”

“I don’t know.”

“See? I just… Wait! If he says you’re an immortal… can you levitate?”

“I haven’t tried. He said I can’t do any—”

“Dude! What are you waiting for? Let me bask in thy holy presence!” Marc fell to his knees and threw up his hands in mock reverence.

“Shut up. Let me try.” Stew moved to the middle of the living room, closed his eyes and concentrated.

As they rode the elevator to the fifth floor of Alex’s apartment building, Marc was having some difficulty hiding his smile. “Does Alex know you’re coming tonight?”

“Yes. And nothing about what I told you today. Okay?”

“Okay,” Marc replied, smirking.

“I’m serious,” Stew said, seeing the burst of laughter building up inside Marc.

“Serious? As opposed to earlier, when you slipped on my remote instructions and were hurtling toward my new plasma screen?”

“Yes. As opposed to that. Can we not talk about it?”

“That was pretty funny. But if you ever come that close to breaking something of mine that I’ve had less than one hour again… I’ll hurt you.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped off.

“You left the instructions on the floor,” Stew joked quietly as they walked down the hall. “You put my life in danger. This is her apartment here.”

Stew knocked and a moment later, Alex opened the door.

“You didn’t have to knock,” Alex said. “You have a key, silly.”

“You have a key?” Marc asked Stew. His voice got higher towards the end of the question and he drug out the word ‘key’ as he looked at Stew with keen interest, as if he just won a game of ‘Clue.’ “That’s cool. You made the exchange. Congratulations.”

“I could’ve done without him knowing that,” Stew said, rolling his eyes. “You do realize that you’ve just hired him as our wedding planner, right?”

“We are not even close to being at that point yet.”

“I know. I’m just saying…”

“Are you trying to run me off already?” Alex said, opening the door and letting them in.

“Nope. I’m just informing you of the can of worms you just opened.”

“It’s all right.”

“All kidding aside,” Stew said, a certain seriousness in his tone, “we need to be extra careful.”

“I know. We don’t need your parents thinking we’re getting married already. They would probably flip out.”

“No, I mean, be careful in general.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I’ve just got a bad feeling… and not just in the Star Wars sense of the phrase.”

“You’re such a geek,” Alex said, shaking her head.

“I’m not kidding. Just don’t go anywhere alone if you don’t have to.”

“Does this have anything to do with your dreams?” Alex asked, now aware of Stew’s nervousness.

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Okay,” she said, assuring him.

“Well,” Marc said after an awkward pause, “are we just going to stand around being careful in Alex’s apartment or are we going to get something to eat?”

“Unfortunately guys, I have to fill in for someone at the tattoo shop. I was just getting ready to leave.”

“Well,” Stew said, the anxiety in his voice temporarily missing. “We can go see if Wiz is at the diner.”

“See if he wants to go to Thanksgiving with us tomorrow,” Alex suggested as she grabbed her jacket.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Stew said as they walked toward the elevator.

“And then, call your mom and let her know. You don’t want to spring another guest on her the day of.”