Chương 75: Chapter 74: No Respect (05/14/1986)

DATE: Wednesday, May 14, 1986 LOCATION: Burbank, California | NBC Studios, Stage 1 LOCAL TIME: 08: 30 PM PST The band played a swing version of the Shadow of the Bat theme as the applause sign flashed.

"My next guest," Johnny Carson said, leaning on his desk, "is the executive producer and star of the surprise hit of the season. The pilot episode, 'The Gauntlet,' hit a forty share Tuesday night. Please welcome... Chad Tillman." The curtain parted. Walking out onto the stage, I wasn't wearing my usual tailored blazer. I wore a cheap, ill-fitting grey suit and a red tie that was entirely too loose.

The stiff, discount polyester chafed violently against skin accustomed to bespoke wool and tailored Kevlar, a physical reminder of the uncomfortable human suit I was currently operating. Stepping to the center mark, I didn't wave. I looked at the floor, then at the band. Grabbing the knot of my tie, I gave it a violent tug and bugged my eyes out. The audience laughed immediately. It was the universal signal.

"I tell ya," I said, my voice dropping an octave, perfectly mimicking that famous Queens nasal whine.

"I get no respect. No respect at all." Looking directly at the camera, I hit my rhythm.

"I'm a kid, you know? It's tough being a kid. My old man, he told me he wanted to take me to the zoo. I said great! He said, 'If they accept you, I ain't coming back!'" The crowd roared. Johnny was clapping behind his desk.

"But school is the worst," I continued, sweating under the hot studio lights.

"I enter the Science Fair last week. I'm trying to save the world, right? I bring in these worms. Wax worms. They eat plastic. I tell the judge, 'Look! They digest polyethylene!' You know what she says to me? She says, 'Keep 'em. They have better table manners than you!'" Laughter swelled through the studio.

"And I lose! I solve the global waste crisis. I save the oceans. And I lose... to a baking soda volcano! Timmy Miller. He pours vinegar on baking soda. Fwoosh. A volcano. The judges love him! They give him the Blue Ribbon! I get a green ribbon. It says 'Participant.' You know what 'Participant' means? It means the trophy shop ran out of 'Loser'!" This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. I did the nervous head-shake, pulling at my collar again.

"So I go home, I tell my dad, 'Pop, I lost to a volcano.' He looks at me, he says, 'Don't worry son, you're a volcano too... you're a disaster waiting to happen!' No respect!" As the band kicked in, I bowed to genuine applause and walked over to the desk, shaking Johnny's hand before turning to the other guest on the couch. It was Rodney Dangerfield. He was wearing the exact same suit I was. Climbing onto the couch next to him, my legs dangled in the air.

Rodney looked at me, looked at his own suit, and then looked at Johnny.

"I don't believe it," Rodney said, his eyes popping.

"I call my lawyer to sue for copyright infringement, he tells me, 'Rodney, the kid wears it better!'" Johnny wiped a tear from his eye.

"That was uncanny, Chad. Really. You have the mannerisms down." Instantly dropping the impression, my spine went rigidly straight.

"I study the masters, Johnny," I said, returning to my crisp, articulate executive baseline.

"Well," Johnny said, recovering from the jarring shift in tone.

"You're a funny young man. But you're also an action star. Everyone is talking about Shadow of the Bat. You shot the whole hour in one take?"

"Forty-four minutes," I corrected.

"No cuts. No edits. If I messed up a line in minute forty, we went back to minute one. The 'One Shot' was necessary, Johnny. We wanted the audience to feel the exhaustion. But I couldn't have done it without my stunt coordinator. Please welcome... Jackie Chan." Jackie bounded out, backflipping onto the riser. He squeezed onto the couch.

"Jackie," Johnny said.

"How do you make it believable that Chad takes down grown men?" Jackie gestured frantically.

"Chad small. If he punch, he break hand. So we use... uh..."

"Jackie, gào sù tā men wǒ men shì rú hé lì yòng huán jìng zuò wéi gàng gǎn de," I said in perfect Mandarin. (Jackie, tell them how we use the environment as a lever.) The audience went silent.

"Duì! Gàng gǎn!" Jackie beamed.

"Tā men bù míng bái sì liǎng bō qiān jīn." (Right! Leverage! They don't understand "four ounces moves a thousand pounds.")"Jackie says American fighting is force meeting force," I translated.

"But we use the philosophy of Sì liǎng bō qiān jīn. Four ounces can move a thousand pounds. Leverage."

"Show us," Johnny said. Jackie positioned Ed McMahon and Rodney as "civilians" in a marketplace. Jackie played the villain.

"Zhǔn bèi hǎo le ma?" I asked. (Ready?)"Hǎo!" (Good!)"Action!" Jackie lunged. I dropped, vanishing into the gap between Rodney and Ed. I moved like smoke, never touching their fabric. Jackie threw a high kick; I slid through Ed's legs. I stepped into Ed's shadow to break Jackie's line of sight. Freeze frame. Jackie's fist was an inch from Ed's nose. I was peering from under Ed's armpit. We hadn't touched them once. The audience erupted.

"Precision is the only victory," I said. I climbed back onto the chair.

"Rodney. I have a script for you. Ladybugs. A sports movie. You coach a girls' soccer team. We'll be... ahead of the curve." Rodney pointed at me.

"I like this kid! He's alright!" As the band played us to commercial, I looked out at the studio audience. They were still cheering, completely enamored with the cute, wisecracking kid in the oversized suit. They were entirely oblivious to the fact that the boy bowing for the cameras was actively preparing to burn a piece of their world to the ground.