PG-13
Strong language, graphic violence
*Guest Starring*
Ted Danson as "David Kubrick"
Kate Capshaw as "Karen Martin"
Archive: Fantasy Island In Chocolate. No where else without permission.
This story is not-for-profit, but I own it.
ONE
His name was David Kubrick. He was, once, one of Cleveland's finest police officers, filled with duty, honor, and promise.
But then one day,something bad had happened. Something that caused David to resign from the force and become a private-eye.
It was one year ago since that incident, and David was in a local bar on the rougher side of town trying to drink his way into forgetting what had happened then. "Hey,Woody!" he called, "Another glass of cheer, eh?"
The bartender looked at David and asked, "Haven't you had enough, Kubrick?"
David glared back and gruffly answered, "If I want your fucking opinion, I'll ask of it, alright?"
A familiar voice suddenly spoke from close behind him, "Well-well-well! Sounds like someone in here's got a real bad-ass mouth!"
David turned his head fractionally, confirmed that it was Mongo, a tough-guy-type he used to run in every couple of weeks before he went private. He seemed to think that David was fair game, nowadays.
Mongo leaned forward, two hands on either side of the stool beside David, and said with a sneer, "Yo, Kubrick, why don't you go shit-face yourself somewhere else!"
"Piss off, Mongo," growled David, knowing what would happen next.
As Mongo whipped the stool up, David grabbed and ducked. Bar stool bounced off bar stool with a resounding clatter.
Before Mongo could wonder where he'd gone, David was up, smashing the bastard's temple with his own beer bottle. He watched the goon fall gracelessly to the floor.
After Mongo went down for the 10-count, David realized that he hadn't been alone. His friends were crowding around, looking for blood. None of them were any smarter than Mongo, but there were a lot of them.
David grabbed the fallen bar stool, feeling a grim satisfaction. If he was going down, he sure as hell was going to take at least a couple of the bastards down with him. He raised it high and -
White light surrounded him, and when it faded, David was no longer in the bar.
He was in the offices of the Fantasy Island Travel Agency, where Fisher took one look at David,and yelled, "WHOA-WHOA! HOLD IT!"
Seeing that he was about to hit an innocent man, David placed the bar stool on the floor,and said, "Hey, I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't realize- I thought you were someone else. Hell, a few seconds ago you were someone else."
"Oh, well then," said Fisher. "I'm glad to hear that. I thought that I might be D.B. Cooper, or something."
"Are you D.B. Cooper?" asked David, curiously.
"No, I'm not!" answered Fisher. "What kind of stupid question was that?"
"Whoa!" said David, "Take it easy! I was just asking, that's all!"
After calming down, Fisher said, "Look, I'm sorry. It's just one of those things, you know."
"I could take a wild guess," said David dryly. "Look. I don't know what I'm doing here."
"Oh, yeah," said Fisher. "Two questions," said David. "A. How the hell do you know my name? And B. What type of vacation getaway are you talking about?"
"Funny you should ask, David," answered Fisher, "One that I know for a fact your host will be willing to answer for you."
Fisher then placed a cylinder filled with every bit of info on David into a tube. And the cylinder was sucked out of the travel agency offices, through a network of connected tubes, and into the home of Mr.Roarke, the
mysterious host of Fantasy Island.
After reading what was inside the cylinder, Roarke said to himself, "My-my, Fisher, you really have gotten yourself a live one this time."
"I'm sorry for being such a rude host, Mr. David Kubrick, but have I got a vacation getaway for you."
TWO
As David Kubrick's plane flew overhead, Cal rang the bell, and called,"THE PLANE! THE PLANE!"
Within a few minutes, the plane had landed on the spot next to the dock. Ariel and Mr. Roarke were already waiting, as Cal and Harry ran towards them, arguing over who was the one who made them late. Luckily, Roarke stopped Cal and Harry's bickering with a glare, saying the usual words--"Smiles, everyone! Smiles!"
The tiny door lifted open and David stepped out onto the dock.
"Oh, he is the chipper one," said Harry dryly, peering down his nose.
"In a way,Harry, you are quite correct," said Roarke. "His name is David Kubrick, a private investigator from Cleveland, Ohio. He became a private investigator after what happened a year ago, when he was an officer on the Cleveland police force."
"So, what's his fantasy?" asked Cal.
Roarke smiled thinly. "His fantasy is for him to finally face his past demons."
"And, in a way, he is about to do so," said Cal. "Right, boss?"
"Quite correct, Cal," answered Roarke. "Quite correct indeed."
After the rest of the guests had exited the plane, Roarke had walked towards them, and announced,"My friends, I am Mr. Roarke, your host! Welcome to Fantasy Island!"
After checking into his room at the hotel, David decided to go for a walk. He had gone only a few yards from the hotel, when Roarke appeared in front of him. "Ah, Mr. Kubrick," he said. "Enjoying yourself so far?"
"I wish I could say yes, Mr. Roarke," answered David. "But, I'm sorry to say, I'm not."
"Why do I have a feeling that it had something to do with what happened one year ago?" asked Roarke.
"That's one of the reasons for my fantasy," answered David."I want to confront myself--to get myself to admit my guilt."
"Well, Mr. Kubrick," said Roarke. "Before we go ahead with your fantasy, please tell me what had happened one year ago."
"I shot a hostage--a five-year-old girl," answered David, his voice strained. "You see, Mr. Roarke, there was this hostage situation at a local preschool. This sick son-of-a-bitch was playing around with us like we were nothing more than a bunch of toy soldiers to him. When we got there, that whole neighborhood had became a war-zone, no thanks to that asshole. Some kids afraid to move a muscle. The rest heading towards the nearest cop-car. All of them wanting their Mommies and Daddies, and I don't blame them." He paused, ashamed to admit this next part, and angry for feeling ashamed.
"They were just kids," David said defensively. "All I could think about doing was blasting that asshole into a bloody pulp, how much he deserved it. Then, the school door opened and that son-of-a-bitch came out, saying that he's got to make some demands. I, for one, didn't want to listen." David paused again, forced himself to continue. "Instead of listening to him, I aimed my gun at him, and, with the look of pure hate in my eyes, opened fire. After that--well, he was dead all right. But, unfortunately, so was the five-year-old girl he was using as a shield."
"I know, Mr. Roarke, I know," sighed David. "But, I really want to do this. What other choice is there? I was trained to punish the guilty, and I ... am ... guilty."
"Very well then, Mr. Kubrick," said Roarke, and he waved north. "Go meet Cal and Ariel at the Fantasy Island police precinct house. There, your fantasy shall begin."
"Thank you, Mr. Roarke." David turned north and resumed his walk.
Roarke, impassive as always, said, "I see, Mr. Kubrick. And you feel your fantasy will be the answer." His tone clearly expressed his doubt.
THREE
David Kubrick entered the Fantasy Island police building, and looked around. To him, it looked and sounded like the same police building back in Cleveland, Ohio. He saw a gruffy-looking man loitering next to a water fountain. "Need help,pal?" asked David.
"I think it's you who needs the help, Dave," answered the stranger. "I know that Mr. Roarke sent you over. I'm Cal."
A shapely female officer came from out of nowhere, and said, "And I am Ariel. Your new case is inside that room."
David looked at the door that Ariel pointed at, and asked,"Are you sure 'he' is in there?"
"He sure is," answered Ariel. "And according to Detective Sgt. Roarke, he's all yours." She handed him the case-file and added, "If you need anything else, please let me know. I'll be around," before disappearing as quickly as she'd appeared.
For a long moment, David could only stand there, staring at that door.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Cal demanded. "A note from your mother? Go in, already!"
Inside, he saw himself, in handcuffs, sitting in one of the only two chairs in the room. David 2 had looked up at David 1 with a not-so-surprised look on his face and said, "Well, it's about damn time you showed up, you stupid ass-wipe!"
"Look, fella!" growled David 1. "This is not going to be a day at the beach for me, either! So, why don't we stop bullshitting ourselves, and get to the real reason why we're here!"
David 2 looked down, seemingly abashed. "I agree," he said quietly.
"Good." David 1 sat down in the other chair. "So?"
"So, how's Karen?" asked David 2, with a smirk.
Shocked, David 1 stammered, "Wh-What?"
"You know," chided David 2. "Your ex-lover? I'd bet the whole amount of prison-time I'm about to serve, that she has finally graduated from law school, and became a successful defense attorney by now."
"Don't you wish!" growled a skeptical David 1.
A knock on the door pulled him to his feet and opening it, his jaw dropped in shock for the second time in as many minutes -- beautifully framed by the interrogation room doorway was newly appointed defense attorney, Karen Martin.
"Karen," David 1 said, unable to say more. "Uh, it's been a long time."
"Not long enough, asshole," growled Karen, pushing past him brusquely and taking the chair he'd vacated. She gave a sympathetic smile to his double and said, "Hi, David. Are you okay, sweetie-bear?"
"Oh, I'm fine," answered David 2. "So far."
Jealousy and anger hit David 1 then, and he yelled, "Excuse me! I'M supposed to be her sweetie-bear!"
"You?" Karen gave him a scornful look. "Not anymore, shit-face," she said, her voice dripping with venom.
"Karen!" David 2, said, shocked by her vehemence.
Her anger quickly turned to sorrow as she turned to David 2. With tears coming out of her eyes, Karen said, "I'm sorry, sweetie-bear. It's just that I know you're innocent. I love you too much to see you thrown into a jail cell with all those scum-bags that you've busted over the years."
"Now wait just a damn minute!" said David 1 in disbelief. "That was me! Those were my scum-bags!"
Karen gave him an icy stare. "You wish. Asshole," she sneered.
"Now, now, Karen," David 2 said soothingly. "He's a police officer, who's only doing his job."
"I know, sweetie-bear, I know," sighed a weepy-eyed Karen. "It's just that...that...Oh,DAVID!" She flung herself at the man in handcuffs, sobbing mournfully.
Seeing Karen in the arms of another man -- even if it was himself, was too much, and no part of what David 1 wanted. He opened the door again and yelled at the top of his lungs, "WHERE'S ROARKE?! I WANT TO SEE HIM RIGHT HERE AND NOW! YOU HEAR ME ROARKE?! ROOOAAARRRKKKE!!"
Karen Martin
Roarke, watching everything on a what appeared to be a security monitor, murmured, "I do indeed hear you, Mr. Kubrick." He chuckled nastily and turned off the monitor.
FOUR
After having left his ex-lover Karen Martin in the arms of his chained-up double, David Kubrick was being led, by Ariel, to Detective Sgt. Roarke's office. As soon as they reached the door, Ariel raised her hand to knock. David stopped her and said gallantly, "No-no, Ariel. Allow me."
And, with enough anger inside him to power the whole Cleveland Public Power company for life, David banged on the door with both fists, yelling, "Open the door, Roarke! Open it NOW!"
The door swung open by itself. There, sitting at his desk and cleaning his gun, was Mr. Roarke. "Is there a problem, Mr. Kubrick?"
"Oh, yeah!" answered a still-pissed-off David. "All of a sudden, my suspect was asking me about a tiny chunk of my personal life! Then in waltzes my ex-girlfriend, who's madly in love with him, but hates my guts!"
"Well, what do you expect from your fantasy?" asked Roarke, raising a white eyebrow questioningly.
"This is not my fantasy!" protested David. "I mean, what's next? My old partner gets arrested for being an accomplice?"
Just then, there was some loud screaming coming from outside Roarke's office. All his cop instincts kicked in and David threw open the door to see what the hell was going on. Just in time to witness his old Cleveland PD partner, Steven Ratchet, being dragged down the hall by a pair of other police officers.
And, if things weren't bad enough, Steven had caught a glimpse at David, and roared at the top of lungs, "You son-of-a-bitch! If me and my partner ever get our asses out of that prison, I'll make sure you don't live to see your next goddamn fuckin' birthday!"
Shocked, horrified, David turned to Roarke and glared at him with pure hate in his eyes. His partner had had no part in the fiasco of a year ago. This was bullshit.
Roarke merely shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Well, you asked."
Too furious to speak, David stormed out of Roarke's office.
"He hasn't found out yet, has he?" asked Ariel, transforming herself into Karen.
"No, my dear 'Karen', not yet." Roarke looked at 'Karen' with a smile. "But he will soon."
Meanwhile, back inside the interrogation room, David 2 said, "Whoa, that Steven's sure got a big, fat mouth, eh?"
"Are you going to give me what I want?! Or am I gonna have to slam you face all over this place?!" demanded David 1, upset and angry and even more pissed off because he didn't know why the hell this was happening to him.
"Sure, no problem," answered David 2. "Want to know what your brother's been doing these days?"
"NO, and I don't give a SHIT!" barked back a still-angry David 1.
"Don't you think you should?" His double calmly pointed to a morgue room, that had appeared out of nowhere. "I do believe he's in there somewhere."
Suddenly, David 1 felt compelled to enter the room, and began looking for his brother. "Chuck? Are you in here?" called David 1. "It's me! It's your brother David! Chuck! WHERE ARE YOU!?"
Slowly, eerily, one of the drawers popped open and slid itself out, to reveal a young man who had been shot in the face at very close range. Curious, confused, David 1 went to examine the corpse more closely. His face suddenly turned white with fright, because on the dead young man's arm was a United States Special Forces tattoo.
Chuck had gotten one just for joining the Special Forces. Even though lots of guys had Special Forces tattoos, David knew with sick certainty that his poor kid brother, Chuck Kubrick, was dead.
Then, he had turned to David 2, and with a look of rage in his eyes, demanded, "I want to know who did this, and I want to know now!"
"Well, I hope I've got the time," said David 2 mildly. "The question is, do you?"
David Kubrick
FiVE
David, still in shock at seeing his brother's lifeless body, stared at his double. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
"You know," replied David 2, looking pointedly at the hallway door.
"Know what?" He was irritated, confused, angry. What the hell did this have to do with what happened a year ago?
"They're coming, David," said David 2 gently, a sad puppy-dog look in his eyes. "They're coming for me. Isn't this what you wanted?"
David 1 stared at David 2. He opened his mouth to ask, "Are you out of your fucking mind?" But the words didn't come.
The door opened, and two stone-faced guards, who might have been Darth Vader's students, entered the room. "It's time," one said gruffly.
David 1 ignored them, concentrating on his double. "I'm not finished here. Come back later."
"It's time," repeated the guard, more insistently.
"Listen, shit-for-brains," he began heatedly, finally looking at the guards. His words trailed off, his anger deflated. Inside those anonymous guard uniforms were Karen Martin and Steven Ratchet. His ex-lover, his ex-partner. They were condemning him! Well, his double...
"You...you can't do this," he protested.
"We can. We will. What do you care?" Steven asked philosophically, gesturing David 2 to stand up.
"It's not like you have any use for it. For any of us, realy," Karen added casually, putting cuffs on David 2.
The two of them half-dragged the man - himself! - from the room.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" David 1 yelled, terrified.
Karen looked back before the door closed. "You already did," she said, her voice dead. Then fury burned in her eyes. "May you burn in hell, you sorry son-of-a-bitch!"
The door slammed shut. He was alone.
David sat down, trying to make sense of this fantasy Roarke had set up for him.
A voice from thin air asked, "Why, David? Why?"
It reminded him of Jacob Marley's ghost in Dicken's 'Christmas Carol' - thin, insubstantial. Wary, he turned around. And even though he half expected it, he still jumped half-way out of his skin, seeing the transparent spectre of Chuck Kubrick.
"Why did you give up your family, David?" the ghost asked mournfully.
Unable to tear his eyes from the horrific apparition, David grasped the doorknob, desperate to escape this room. It wouldn't budge. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!" he screamed, "FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! PLEASE!"
"Why, David," the ghost asked again, walking towards him.
It was a valid question, but David could only feel unreasoning terror. He could not let that, that thing touch him! He pounded on the door. "LET ME OUT OF HERE! ROARKE! SOMEBODY! LET ME OOOOUT!"
The door fell open, the ghost vanished. David was on his hands and knees staring at thick soft carpeting not usually found in police stations.
He looked up, saw a double bed. He was back in his room at the Fantasy Island hotel. He let out a thin laugh and climbed to his feet. And jumped again as another voice spoke behind him.
"Yes, your fantasy is over, Mr. Kubrick," Roarke said.
"Yeah," he agreed shakily. More than his fantasy had ended. Roarke, Cal and Ariel had helped him find the most important thing he'd lost last year.
The next day, while the other passagers were boarding the plane for the return trip home, David offered his hand to Roarke and said apologetically, "Look, Mr. Roarke, if I'd given you and everyone else any grief over the past day, or two..."
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Kubrick," assured Roarke, accepting his hand, then giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You just enjoy what's left of your life, and stop using yourself as a punching bag."
"You better believe I will," said a smiling David. "Thanks. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, Mr. Kubrick," said Roarke, watching David get on the plane.
As the plane moved slowly away from the dock toward the open bay, Harry asked, puzzled, "Sir, I am curious, what exactly did he find, here?"
"A tiny chunk of lost humanity," answered Roarke.
Meanwhile, back at the Fantasy Island Travel Agency, Fisher was straightening up some paperwork, and being grumpy about it. "Great, just great!" he complained. "All this paperwork to sort, and no-one to help me!"
Out of nowhere, a ghostly voice said, "I'll help you, Fisher."
Fisher turned around, saw the mutilated ghost of Chuck Kubrick standing in front of him, and screamed bloody murder.
After Fisher had fainted, 'the ghost' transformed 'himself' into Ariel. She smiled at the prone figure. "What's wrong, Fisher? Was it something I said?"
Don't get chocolate fingerprints
on the forms...