Prologue

"Come on Susan, it’s almost 10 AM, it’s time to wake up." Susan could hear her husband’s voice, as she remained tucked under the covers. She made no immediate attempt to communicate back with him. Outside, the sun was shining brightly and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. The day was Saturday and the month was May. It was the 11^th of May to be exact. This May had been unseasonably mild and all the flowers were in full bloom. The trees were filled with the activity of wild life and the song of birds could easily be heard. It was a glorious early morning in May. It was the weekend. Susan was miserable.

Her husband Mike walked into their bedroom where he found Susan in the same place he had left her over 45 minutes ago: still in bed. Mike could feel his anger rising or perhaps it was more frustration than anger. He had hoped that they could get out of the house early and perhaps beat the Mothers Day shopping crowd. He wanted to buy a gift for his mom and Susan had promised him she would help him find a gift her. Mike was awful at buying presents, especially for his mom. Susan, on the other hand, seemed to have a knack for gift giving. She always knew the right thing to buy. But tomorrow was Mothers Day and despite his best efforts to help Susan enjoy the weekend, Mike could see things slowly slipping away.

Mike sat down on the edge of the bed. His back was still to Susan as he sat still for a few moments. Finally, Mike turned around and looked at the blanket on the bed that was covering his wife of nearly 15 years. "Susan, can you PLEASE get your butt out of bed. We need to get going here." Susan finally pulled the cover down so her face was no longer obscured by it. "Mike, I’m not really in the mood for shopping today, OK? "Can’t you go yourself?" Mike could feel his temper rising. He did his best to take a deep breath before speaking. "Honey, you know I’m an awful gift giver. You said you would go with me to the mall and now getting you out of bed is like pulling teeth. "Just what is wrong with you? Every year at this time you just lie there in bed. You ruin Mothers Day for everyone, including our own children."

That last verbal assault was more than Susan could take. She sat up in bed and shot her husband a very icy glare. "Look, I promise not to be depressed tomorrow, OK? Just let me be today and I’ll put on my annual Mothers Day happy face." Before Susan could finish her sentence, Mike cut her off. "Oh come on Susan, who are you trying to kid? You think what you do each year on Mothers Day is fooling everyone? Do you think for even a second that everyone in the family doesn’t see right through you? Being around you on Mothers Day is similar to being around Scrooge on Christmas. For some reason, the two don’t seem to go together. I’ve never understood it and I still don’t today.

Susan could feel her heart beating in her chest as her anger at Mike increased. "You know what Mike, I don’t need this shit! I said that I would be the good little mommy tomorrow. If you don’t take me at my word, that is your problem." With that said, Susan quickly threw on some clothes and left the house. Mike got behind the wheel of their 2001 Toyota Camry and drove off to the mall.

While Mike was off to the mall, Susan decided to take a walk to try and defeat this depression that each year seemed to grow more and more intense. She walked a very brisk pace as her thoughts drifted back to her own childhood. She could see her old kitchen empty. Nothing cooking. No food on the table. No mother to be found. Oh, how she hated Mothers Day. As she continued her walk, she realized that Mike was right. She ruined Mothers Day each year for not only her mother-in-law, but for her own two daughters as well. No matter how hard she tried to hide her depression, she didn’t fool anyone. Yet each Mothers Day she vowed to be cheerful and truly enjoy the day, if not for her sake, then for the sake of her family. She had never been able to see that vow through. Her depression always won out.

Susan, walking quickly now, passes by home after home. She can see people milling about. Some getting into their cars, no doubt heading off to the Mall and all of that pre-Mothers Day madness. At another home, Susan sees a father playing with his daughter. Immediately, Susan’s memory flashes back to her own relationship with her father. That relationship was everything Susan had hoped for, that is, until the death of her mother. Susan’s dad could not handle losing his wife in such a tragic accident and rather than embracing Susan, he immersed himself in his work. A few years later, he remarried and Susan found herself in a home where she was ignored by both parents. It should be noted that Susan has a desire to be spanked. When she was a child, both parents for misdeeds spanked her, however, since the death of her mother, neither her father nor stepmother took an interest in her. She was allowed to do as she pleased and for the most part, there were no consequences for misbehavior, whether that be spanking, time out or even a stern talking to. When Susan was spanked as a little girl, she hated it. After all, childhood spankings hurt! But as an adult, she began to crave a good spanking, as she equated spanking as something that parents who love and care about their children do from time to time.

Susan finally arrives at the Main Street intersection. It’s the busiest street in their quiet little town of Derry. Susan had walked close to 3 miles now, her face quite expressionless until Susan encountered the monster. Susan heard the sounds of the monster as it made its way on to Main Street. She felt a slight bit of panic set in and she feared that she was going to have a panic attack right then and there. The monster stopped and the door swung open. A slew of people got off the monster, only to be replaced by another group of people who were waiting for the monster to arrive. Susan clutched her chest. She was afraid she was going to have a heart attack. She had stopped walking as she just stared at the monster, until the monster pulled away. The monster was a city bus. On the day of her mothers death, Susan had wished her mother never to come home because she knew she was going to get a spanking that day. Susan’s mother always made sure she was home before Susan, because she didn’t want Susan coming home to an empty house. On that fateful day, Claire was killed when a bus struck her car. She had been rushing home so she could get there before Susan did. Susan lost her battle with anxiety and the weight of all her emotions simply was too much for her tortured mind to endure, so Susan’s body took the most natural defense: Susan fainted.

ROD SERLING NARRATIVE:

SUBMITTED FOR YOUR APPROVAL: MRS. SUSAN RUSSO. A WOMAN WHO HAS JUST WALKED INTO A NIGHTMARE WHICH IN THIS CASE TAKES THE FORM OF A CITY BUS. IN JUST A MOMENT, WE ARE GOING TO TAKE A JOURNEY WITH MRS RUSSO AND BOARD THAT BUS WHICH JUST HAPPENS TO BE GOING EXPRESS TO THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Susan was crying. She was standing by an open casket in the funeral parlor. She couldn’t see the body inside the casket, yet she didn’t have to. She knew who it was. Through her tears, she could only manage a few words. "I’m sorry mommy, I’m sorry. Please don’t die. I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me." Over and over Susan heard herself saying, "Please forgive me, please forgive me, please forgive me." At that moment, she heard the man’s voice, "Lady wake up. Lady, come on now." Susan opened her eyes and was staring at that shirt. That very special shirt with a design that was unique to all other shirts. Susan held her breath as she looked into the eyes of that bus driver. But the bus had driven away. Had the driver come back to help her? She had little time to ponder such questions as the driver helped her to her feet. The man in that special shirt wiped the sweat from his brow and forced a weak smile in her direction.

"Lady, you gave me quite a scare. Are you OK?" Susan managed to return his smile with one of her own. "Yes, I’m fine," she said, although she wasn’t so convincing. "Thank you for your concern. I’m OK now. I should be on my way." The driver had taken hold of Susan’s hand. "Listen lady, why not ride on the bus. I’m sure we’re going to stop at a place close to your home. No need to walk and risk falling down again." The driver seemed genuinely concerned and Susan could not argue with him. "Sure, I guess I can ride the bus."

Susan followed the driver to the bus. She noticed that the bus didn’t have any numbers on it. And on the side, the destination read, "Lakewood." Susan felt a strong shiver run up and down her neck. She was sure that her hairs were standing on end. Susan, now trembling forced a few more words from her lips. "Mister, there is no Lakewood around here. Why does it say Lakewood?" The driver replied, "Lakewood. That’s the next stop. Come aboard Miss, there is room for one more." Susan’s heart once again picked up the pace and her palms were a bit sweaty, but for some reason, in spite of her fears, Susan got on the bus. She was going to Lakewood.

"This is odd, Susan said, there is nobody else on board. Why, when you passed by a moment ago, I saw many people getting on this bus. What happened to them?" The driver gave Susan a look that is usually a look that is reserved when talking with a person who seems mentally challenged. "Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You just fainted and I came over to help you." With that said, the driver shut the door and the bus pulled out of the bus stop and on to Main Street.

Susan was very tired and she sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. It didn’t take long until she fell asleep. Her sleep was uneventful. No nightmares. Just a vast nothingness as darkness and peacefulness took over. Susan opened her eyes. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep. Five minutes? An hour, maybe longer than that, Susan wasn’t really sure. However, the driver was still driving and they hadn’t reached the last stop, so she figured her slumber hadn’t lasted all that long.

The bus was also unlike any other bus she had seen in years. It wasn’t until this moment that she realized why just seeing the bus had triggered such an emotional response. This was an old bus. The kind of bus she remembers riding as a child. "Mister, excuse me for saying this, but is the transit department short of cash or something?" The driver kept his eyes forward on the road and replied, "I don’t know what you’re talking about. This bus is brand new. Must have cost a few thousand dollars." Susan couldn’t help but laugh. "Mister, you are very funny. Why, this bus must be over 30 years old. You call this new?" The driver kept his gaze on the road and said, "Lady, I wasn’t driving a bus in 1943, so I don’t know what buses looked like back then." Susan felt a lump in her throat the size of a Big Mac. "What do you mean, 1943? I’m talking about what busses looked like 30 years ago, in 1973." "Lady, THIS IS 1973!’ Susan feels faint again but she is able to fight off that feeling. She then sees a newspaper on the seat beside her. She picks it up and looks at the date: May 11, 1973. Susan keeps reading the date, hoping that it will change. But it stays the same. "Lady, are you sure you’re OK? You look a little pale." Susan stares ahead, a mixture of fear, dread and excitement all vying for her attention. Lakewood, she is going to Lakewood.

Susan took a deep breath and tried to relax. The driver kept the bus moving at a fairly quick pace. It suddenly dawned on Susan that since she had gotten on the bus, there had been no more stops, not even to pick up additional passengers. Susan felt like she was a prisoner, a prisoner of the bus and a prisoner of the bus driver. And most noticeable, a prisoner of time. She looked out of the window and her breath was immediately taken away from her. The streets were filled with people, going about their business on this glorious day in May. That in and of itself was not the reason that Susan’s face wore an expression of utter disbelief. "The cars, look at the cars. Why, they must be 30 years old." Susan then saw an AMC Gremlin, a car she remembers her dad having when she was very little. She picked up the newspaper once again, and opened it to the middle page. There was movie review there. The headline read, "One Devil of a Movie." The review was for "The Exorcist." It was indeed the summer of 1973 all over again.

Susan put down the paper after reading an article about the Watergate scandal. She also had looked at the sports page, to find out that the Montreal Canadians were looking to win yet another Stanley Cup. An ad for a Pontiac Tempest with a price of $2500 brought a smile to Susan’s face. "Wow, imagine getting a new car today for $2500," she thought out loud. The driver didn’t say anything to her. The bus moved on.

As she continued to look out the window, she noticed that things seemed to look more familiar. She passed a park that looked like one she had been to before: But when? Her eyes opened wide as the bus rolled by an ice cream truck which had stopped by the curb to answer the screams of the many children who had been waiting for its arrival. On the truck, she saw the name, "Uncle Abe’s Ice Cream." "Oh my God!" Uncle Abe. That was the name of the ice cream vendor who she used to buy ice cream from as a child. Susan could feel the bus begin to slow down, as it pulled over to the curb. Outside, there was a house. It was a roomy Victorian home. Susan could see the house was painted white. There was a back yard there. And in the driveway, there was an AMC Gremlin.

"LAKEWOOD! LAST STOP. END OF THE LINE!" the bus driver’s voice snapped Susan back to reality. The driver opened the door but did not look back at Susan. Susan stood up and began to walk toward the door. She took the first step of three that would lead her to the street. She realized that she didn’t even know what the driver looked like. When he helped her off the floor and on to the bus, she was still trying to recover from her fainting spell and didn’t get a clear look at him. So after taking that first step to exit the bus, she said, "Will you wait here for me? How can I get back?" There was no answer. Susan turned around and began to repeat the question, but stopped in mid-sentence. The bus driver was gone. Had Susan seen a ghost? She didn’t have time to ponder such things. She was back in Lakewood. She was back home.

She exited the bus and began walking toward the house. Everything was coming back to her now. She had walked this walk so many times before. The school bus would drop her off right at that same corner where the bus driver had left her. She would get off the bus and walk that half a block and be home. She remembers how her mother would always be sure to be home, to be waiting for her. Susan thought about those days in her past. Days that were filled with innocence, and wonderment: A time when the biggest worry in her life, was if she was going to get a spanking for some wrongdoing. Looking back now, Susan smiled at such thoughts and at how much life changes when one grows up. If only now she could go back to that part of life when a spanking was the worst thing that could happen to her.

She walks up the front steps and then stops short. Should she knock on the door? Maybe she should check and see if the door is open. If it is, should she walk right in? All of a sudden, she hears the old song from the 60’s playing in her head. She can’t remember the name of the group, but she recalls the tune and the words. Walk right in, sit right down, daddy let your hair hang down. Susan smiled. She decided not to go into the house just then. This was so much for her to be able to emotionally absorb all at once. She decides to check out the back yard.

The first thing Susan notices is a bicycle. It’s pink and has a white seat and the handlebars are shaped like a U and spread out. Quite funky looking they are. Susan closes her eyes for a moment. She hears the voice of a child. The girl is singing a song. She catches the words in mid sentence: Sixty- five years old, my mother God rest her soul. Couldn’t understand why the only man she had ever loved had been taken. Leaving her to start, with her heart so badly broken. Despite encouragement from me, no words were ever spoken. When she passed away, I cried and cried all day, alone again, naturally. "That’s Gilbert O'Sullivan. I remember that song. Haven’t heard it in years."

The sound of the bike stand being kicked brought Susan back from her musical flashback. There, in front of her, was a pretty little girl. The girl was sitting on her bike. She had a worried look on her face. Susan approached the little girl. "Hi there sweetie. Is that your bike?" The girl didn’t look directly at Susan, "Yes, my mother bought it for me for my 7^th birthday. Once again, that lump found its way back into Susan’s throat. She tried to keep an outwardly calm persona, even if she was a nervous wreck inside. "That is a pretty bike," Susan said, as she looked at the little girl. "Where is your mommy?" There was no answer. Susan had to repeat the question again. "Little girl, where is your mommy? Is she at home?" The child looked up at Susan, and with a mixture of fear and anger accentuating her voice, she said, "No, my mommy is not at home. I hope she NEVER comes home!" Susan walked toward the little girl and bent down so she was eye level with her. "No, you must never say something like that. I know. I once wished my mommy would never come home, and she never did. Why would you even say anything like that, honey?" The girl, still visibly upset, wiped a tear that was running down her right cheek, "I don’t want her to come home because when she does, she’s going to give me a spanking. And my name is not little girl, it’s Susan, but everyone calls me Suzie Q."

Susan went weak in the knees. As a little girl, she used to love Suzie Q cakes and her friends and family chose the nickname of Suzie Q for her. Susan felt an intense wave of panic engulf her entire being. She could not hold back the tears and they flowed freely. She wept beside this little girl. She wept for the girl. She wept for the wish that her mommy would never come home. She wept for all the lost time that could never be made up. Through her tears, she said, "Oh Suzie Q, you must take that wish back. You must!" The little girl, still angry and upset, got on her bike and began to ride away. She looked back at Susan as she rode her bike and yelled, "No, I don’t want her to come home. I don’t want to get a spanking." Susan tried to chase the girl, but she was too quick on that bike. After a minute, the girl was out of sight.

The front door was all that stood between Susan and her past. She wanted to open the door and walk inside the house. She envisioned seeing her mother there, waiting for her as she always had. She needed the emotion of knowing that mommy would always be there for her. That at age 7 1/2, her mom would not abandon her, even if in the eyes of a child, death were synonymous with abandonment. Her body was frozen with fear. It was the fear of the unknown. Susan knew that the only way to quell that fear would be to open that door and walk inside. For some reason that she couldn’t shake, her feeling was, that if she opens that door and walks inside, she would die. She heard a voice in her head talking. "Yes Susan, walk inside and die. Didn’t you wish your mother dead? Well, now it’s your turn. Do you have the guts to walk into that house?" Susan felt a cold sweat running down her face. She didn’t want to die, but didn’t she really deserve that fate? Shouldn’t every daughter who kills her own mother suffer likewise? Perhaps at that very moment, Susan wanted to die. She opened the door and stepped inside.

And then, there was a vast space of nothingness. Susan looked around and her eyes focused on the dark conditions that were in stark contrast to the day outside. On the other side of that door, was life. Bright blue skies overhead, with children running and playing, and all the sounds of the neighborhood she remembered so many years ago. However, on the other side of this door, there was only death. No memories here, just a long endless space that seemed to stretch on forever, an endless enigma. Was she dead? Is this what death was like? To vanish into a place that is void of both time and substance? Would she remain in this state for all eternity? Was this her comeuppance for her wish that her mother never come home? The weight of this guilt, which she has carried around inside her for almost 30 years overwhelmed her, and before she knew what she was doing, she found herself on her knees, calling out to her mother, "Mommy, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please come home to me! Please. I’ll take the spanking. You can spank me as hard as you like and I’ll still love you when it’s over. I just hope you can still love me." Susan collapsed on to the floor, taking the fetal position her tears flowed like water in a racing river, which had passed a point in time, never to return.

Then, there was that smell. It made its way down the hallway, and moved toward Susan’s senses. Her crying stopped and her nostrils, for some odd reason remained clear. She took in the aroma for a few moments and before her eyes, this point in space that had appeared devoid of life and spirit, seemed to undergo a metamorphosis right before her eyes. The house was now as it appeared during her childhood. The silver rug that adorned the hallway was back. The placed looked freshly painted and that aroma, the aroma of cookies that had just been removed from the oven, hot and tender engulfed her very being. She couldn’t move from that spot, as she was frozen in time. And the one most important ingredient that was missing from the moment soon came walking out from the kitchen.

Susan could barely grasp what she was looking at. Her childhood home, and there, standing right in front of her, was her mother. Her mother was home! Susan found herself running toward her mother, her arms open. She threw her arms over her mother, and hugged her tightly. The two of them embraced for what seemed like an eternity, and in fact, it may have been. Claire looked at her daughter and smiled. Finally, when her mother spoke, Susan knew she was home. The voice was just the way she remembered it. Soft and warm, loving yet firm. A true mommy’s voice if ever there was one. Claire took her daughter by the hand and it was at that very moment, that Susan, for the first time, realized that her mother was about a foot taller than she was. Susan quickly glanced in the mirror that was hanging on the wall by the kitchen, and in that reflection, she saw Suzie Q. Yes, Suzie Q was with her mom again. "Susan, I received a phone call from your teacher today, and she told me that you were very fresh to her in class today. Did she tell you that she was going to call me?" Susan’s heart was beating faster now than it ever had in her life. She was sure it was going to burst out of her chest, sprout wings, and fly south for the winter. "Yes mommy, she told me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be sassy to her. I was just…" Claire interrupted her daughter in mid sentence. "Suzie Q, you know that you have rules set and I’m always clear to you on which behaviors I will not tolerate, yet you chose to behave in this fashion anyway. Do you know what this means?" Susan felt her bottom begin to tingle. She was going to get the spanking she had always deserved. "I’m sorry mommy. Are you going to spank me?" Susan asked. "Yes dear, I’m afraid I am. Come with me."

Susan had some memories of trips over her mothers lap and just how much a spanking from her mother hurt. She knew that it would hurt again, hurt plenty that was for sure. And if the truth were known, she wanted it to hurt worse than ever before. She needed a long overdue bare bottom spanking over her mothers lap. Claire pulled out the desk chair that was in Suzie’s room and seating herself, she called Suzie over to her. She held her daughters hand, and carefully turned Suzie over her lap. Susan was now Suzie, the naughty little girl who was going to learn a very painful lesson over her mother’s lap.

Claire lifted Suzie’s skirt out of the way and then lowered her daughter’s panties. Susan felt her mother’s hand, warm and loving, rubbing her bottom cheeks. She had a vague recollection of her mother’s spanking technique. Her mom would rub her bottom for a few minutes, and then, she would spank. So, Susan remained still, enjoying the attention she was getting, even though she knew that soon, that same attention would be making her bottom feel as hot as a comet.

Claire gave Suzie’s bottom a final gentle pat. The next thing Susan felt was the sting of the wooden spoon, as it descended upon her upturned bare backside. The house was now filled with the sounds of a mother spanking her daughter. The spoon smacking into her bare bottom was heard first, followed immediately by Suzie’s screaming and crying. Susan felt that her ass was on fire, but she wanted it that way. She needed this discipline to make her a free woman. This was her penance. It was something she had been waiting all her life for.

Finally, the last swat was delivered and Susan felt her mother’s hand once again rubbing her behind. The spanking was awful, yet at the same time, it was the most important moment in Susan’s entire life. Claire rubbed Suzie’s behind for a few minutes and then helped her to her feet. Susan cried hard and Claire never knew that those tears were tears of joy. Both mother and daughter walked into the kitchen and Suzie enjoyed some homemade cookies with her mother. She hugged her mother and said, ‘Oh mommy, I’m so glad you came home, I’m so glad you came home."

Susan kept repeating "I’m so glad you came home….. I’m so glad you came home…. I’m so glad you…SUSAN, WAKE UP!!! Susan opened her eyes and found herself in bed, her husband Mike by her side. "Honey, you must have been having a dream or something. Are you OK?" Susan scratched some of the sandman from her eyes. She looked around the room and then looked back at Mike. As she sat straight up in bed, she winced and an "ouch" escaped her lips. "What’s the matter honey, did you sprain something?" Susan laughed. "Mike, I must have really been out of it last night. I don’t even remember you spanking me." Mike looked at Susan as if she had two heads. "Spank you? I didn’t spank you. Why would I even try?" Susan could hear some sarcasm in Mike’s voice. "What does that mean? Don’t you ever spank me, Mike?" Mike sat down beside his wife, his demeanor more serious now. "Honey, the only bottoms I spank, are the ones that belong to our daughters and that happens only when they are very naughty."

Mike puts on some socks and says, "So, we will go to your mother’s place today. The girls are getting dressed and should be ready in about ten minutes. Susan felt her stomach muscles tighten. "My mother, we’re going to my mother’s place," Susan asked, a mixture of disbelief and confusion in her voice. "Well, surely we are not going to my mother’s. You two never got along and most likely never will. I’ll take the girls to see my mother later on today. Are you sure you’re OK?"

Susan stretched her legs a bit and yawned, still tired from her slumbers. Mike realized that there was something wrong with Susan this morning. There must be something that has happened, that she is not telling him. Mike had never been the type of person who would try and rush someone into talking about a topic that they would prefer to keep to themselves. So, he remained quiet and waited to hear what Susan would say. "Mike, I thought you were into spanking. Am I crazy or what?" Mike gets up and goes over to the dresser drawer and takes out a button down shirt. He slips it over his head and works it down into place. He glances in the mirror to see how it looks and while making small adjustments, he says to Susan, "Ever since the girls were born, you’ve had no interest in being spanked. You used to like it a long time ago." Susan can see Mike’s face is red. The conversation is probably embarrassing him. A smile comes over her face and she gets up out of bed and whispers, "Mike, can you try spanking me again later? I think I’m going to like it just fine from now on."

The two of them exchange a silent moment; one that only people who are truly in love with each other can feel comfortable with. That silence is broken by the sound of the telephone. Mike goes over to it and answers, "Hello. Oh, Hi Mom. Yes, Susan is here. She’s just getting out of bed. You want to talk with her? Sure, hold on." Mike hands the phone to Susan, "It’s your mother." Susan remains stoic, unable to move. Mike looks at her as if he was studying an object he had never seen before. "Susan, pick up the phone. Your mother is waiting to talk to you." Mike can see Susan is trembling. She manages to pick up the phone. "Hello," is all she can manage. Claire’s voice is on the other side of the phone. "Hi Suzie Q. I just wanted to make sure we are all on for today. You, Mike and the girls will be over at one, yes?" Susan, realizing that her dream did come true, took a very deep breath. "Yes Mommy, we’ll be over any time you’d like." Mike looked at Susan with some amusement on his face. "I haven’t heard you call your mother mommy in," he pauses for a moment, "well, in a very long time." Susan says so long to her mother and hangs up the phone. She joins Mike, as they both get dressed. The girls then rush into the bedroom. HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!!!! Susan, overrun with emotion, begins to cry. She hugs her girls tightly. "Yes, this is Mothers Day. The best Mothers Day ever!"

EXIT MRS SUSAN RUSSO, FORMALLY A WOMAN SEARCHING FOR HER MOTHER. SHE HAD TO GO BACK 30 YEARS TO FIND HER AND SHE DID FIND HER. TONIGHTS TALE OF LOVE, FORGIVENESS AND HEALING, IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE