I know you think I'm crazy.
But it's not me.
It's the world.
The world's gone mad.
Because...
because Martians have invaded, but...
nobody seems to care!
Take it easy, mister.
Have a cup of joe.
I can't take it easy.
I just saw one outside.
So, uh, tell me,
what do these Martians look like?
They... have giant heads
and multiple appendages.
Yikes.
And they're, uh, here to eat us or something?
No. They have a ray of some kind...
that makes us...
forget.
Forget what?
- There! I just saw one. - Where?
Outside through that window. I just saw one of 'em.
Hey, mister.
That ain't a window. That's a mirror.
What is this,
some kind of sick joke, Buddy?
Oh, it's no joke.
And my name's not Buddy.
Wait, what?!
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
Hello.
Mulder, it's me. Where have you been?
I've been trying your cell all day.
I was out squatchin'.
- What? - Bigfoot hunting.
I had my phone turned off.
Did you have any luck?
No, but that's not really the point.
I just had to get away from the madness for a little while.
It seems this past year all I've done is watch the news
and worry that the country's gone insane.
I had to get out to nature.
You know, where it's simple and uncomplicated,
where it's just you and the elements.
And possibly a cryptozoological, simian-like,
hairy humanoid with enormous feet.
I think you just like saying "squatchin'."
We still on for dinner tomorrow night?
Yeah, I'll see you then.
Hey, Scully, I ever tell you about the time
I found a Sasquatch footprint in the mud?
- Yeah, you did. I, uh... - It was 35 years ago, about.
- Mulder, I've heard this before. - On the banks
- of the mighty Mogoagogo River - Mulder, you already told me.
- I got to go, got to go, Mulder. - In beautiful British Columbia.
Scully? Scully?
Mulder.
It's me.
Now, I-I know you're surprised to see me.
I thought we were all done after...
you know, that last case.
I've stumbled on the conspiracy to...
...to end all conspiracies.
Who are you?
So they have already gotten to you.
How did you know how to contact me? To meet me here?
I... It had to be someplace safe.
They...
they'd kill us if they had the chance.
And who are "they"?
They are why you don't remember.
Why aren't people getting probed by aliens anymore?
You used to know, but they made you forget...
so that you wouldn't remember me.
Look, what is this all about?
Oh, my God. Look, there's no way for me to make you understand
without me seeming like a crazed madman.
It's a little late for that.
I think your ride is here.
The first Twilight Zone episode
you ever saw... it was "The Lost Martian," right?
You remember that?
And if I do?
That Twilight Zone episode...
doesn't exist.
It never did.
Were you followed?
Who is that?
It would be a hell of a twist
if it were Rod Serling.
Submitted for your approval.
No, it's not in here, either.
Mulder, what I don't understand
is how this guy knew
about your secret rendezvous signal.
Who cares about any of that, Scully?
I can't find "The Lost Martian."
Wh-When he said that that episode
of The Twilight Zone didn't exist,
that's when I knew he was a crazy person. It's a classic.
So I came home, and I checked
my box DVD set, and it wasn't on there.
I checked all my episode guidebooks.
No mention of it.
I searched online. Nothing.
So now I'm going through my tapes because I'm sure
I recorded it at some point.
Well, maybe it's one of those other shows, like...
Outer Limits or...
Confuse The Twilight Zone with The Outer Limits?
Do you even know me?!
Can we talk about this over dinner, please?
I-I'm not gonna be able to eat until I find this.
Ever again.
It can't be that good of an episode.
It-It's-it's not about the episode, Scully.
It's about my memory
of seeing my first Twilight Zone.
It changed me.
You don't forget that.
I was eight years old.
My parents let me stay up till midnight
because that was back in the day when it only aired,
you know, late at night on some local channel.
Wait, what?!
And my name's not Buddy.
- Oh, now I get it. - Wait, what?!
I remember it all so clearly,
as if it just happened.
He stand you up again?
Uh, are you that guy that met with Mulder last night?
Uh, what gave it away, Skulls?
He mentioned
the forehead sweat.
I need you to help me find someone.
Who?
Me.
They...
they're trying to erase me!
Skulls, look, I can prove it.
Hey, I'm armed.
Just...
Wh...
Wh-Where did you find this?
My fingerprints are on that box.
Just prove that I'm real!
W-Wait!
Who... uh...
Let me... L-Let me, let me get this straight.
Wh-When it cools, it forms into three different layers,
with three different textures, all from the same mix?
How has this never been an X-File?
I-I have such wonderful memories associated with it.
I remember my mom making it.
I remember family vacations over the summer holidays,
and Fourth of July, fireworks,
America, God, love.
That's some Jell-O.
I mean, just the cherry flavor.
The lemon-lime tasted like leprechaun taint.
But I-I have literally been looking for this for decades.
But every time I look for Goop-O A-B-C, everyone says,
"No, you must be thinking about Jell-O 1-2-3."
It's the Mandela Effect.
- What do you mean? - When someone has
a memory of something that's not shared
by the majority or the factual record.
For instance, there are some people that have a memory
of seeing a movie called Shazaam, starring Sinbad
as an irrepressible genie, even after it's pointed out to them
that they're probably thinking of a movie called Kazaam,
starring Shaquille O'Neal as an irrepressible genie,
especially 'cause a movie called Shazaam was never made.
But what if I don't remember either movie?
- You win! - But, Mulder,
isn't your false Twilight Zone memory
also a Mandela Effect?
No, because my false memory is real.
But, again, how does this... mystery guy,
whose fingerprints came up with nothing,
how does he even know about these,
these secret memories of ours?
You can ask him yourself tonight.
I already taped an "X" to the window this morning.
But that's your secret rendezvous signal.
I don't want to intrude.
He clearly wants you involved, Scully.
Come on, it'll be like a date.
Well, this is romantic.
Isn't it?
So, who are you?
I think my name is Reggie.
Reggie something.
Well, Mr. Something, you want to tell us what this is all about?
Like all life-questioning revelations,
it came to me while I was moving.
Not myself, but my mother.
And when unpacking her stuff, I came across a bunch
of old things of mine she kept.
Remembering my mom reading Dr. Wuzzle books to me
is one of the fondest memories I have.
But... when I looked more closely at the book's cover,
well, that's when the woozle-wozzle-bloober-blubs
really hit the fan.
Wait, what?
Because Dr. Wuzzle's name was spelled different
than how I remembered... not with two Ss,
but with two Zs.
What's happening?!
- It's the Mandela Effect. - The what effect?
The Mandela Effect. When someone has a memory
that doesn't coincide with everybody else's or the facts.
So named because some people have a memory
of hearing that Nelson Mandela died in the '80s
while imprisoned, when, in fact, he died a free man in 2013.
No. It's called the Mengele Effect
because people have a memory
of Josef Mengele getting apprehended in Ohio in 1970.
So, it's the Mengele Effect.
The Mandela Effect has been
an Internet meme for almost a decade.
It's always been called that.
Ah, see, you're having a Mengele Effect about the Mandela Effect.
I should know because of how I found out about it.
My search led me to a...
historical repository of vintage Americana.
Excuse me... do you have any old Dr. Wuzzle books?
That's something somebody might actually want, so, no.
I do have something over in the political shame section
that might interest you.
Uh, it's a cartoon that Dr. Wuzzle drew back in 1940.
Ah, damn it, it's still wrong!
Easy, easy! If you're gonna break something,
use the Evel Knievel doll.
It'll make it more authentic.
What? No.
I'm sorry. It-it...
I remember his name being spelled in a different way.
Oh, boy. Sounds like somebody's suffering
from the Mengele Effect.
See? It's called the Mengele Effect.
That doesn't prove anything.
D... Just trust me, okay?
I've done a lot of research into this since then.
And the shop owner himself was a bit of an expert on the topic.
Oh, it all started a couple years ago... people coming in
looking for some fondly-remembered item
from their past, and I'd show it to them,
but there's always something just a little off.
And they'd be like, "No,
I remember the logo being racist in a different way."
It's like everybody's recall was just a little out of whack.
Yeah, yeah.
And I think the government knows about it.
What-what do you mean?
Oh, come on, the government always knows more than they let on.
For instance, do you think that the government
didn't know, when this was being sold back in the '70s,
that it wasn't full of carcinogens?
They know the truth about the... Mengele Effect.
That's when I launched my own investigation
into the phenomenon.
The Mengele Effect is being
intentionally orchestrated by someone.
Who? And to what end?
For the simple reasons that Orwell said.
"He who controls the past controls the future."
The ability to manipulate memory creates unlimited power...
political, economical, cultural.
It runs the gamut from Holocaust denial
to corporate product recognition.
There are companies who are willing to pay anything,
do anything, to have people forget
that their products explode on impact or suddenly catch fire.
Companies like G...
...spending billions in profit to repress these memories.
The-the only thing I haven't been able to do is
to figure out how they're doing it.
They can't.
I-I'm sorry, but this is ridiculous.
I mean, the Mandela Effect is simp...
It's the Mengele Effect, guys.
It's the Mengele Effect. Just say it.
...is simply people misremembering stuff.
But maybe... this is actually evidence of a parallel universe.
- Wait, what?! - Wait, what?!
So maybe th-these differences
in collective memories are actually evidence of
of our universe somehow becoming intertwined with another,
if not identical, then very similar, universe.
So people's memories are correct.
They're just remembering something
that happened in another dimension.
Hence, the discrepancies.
That's science, Scully.
- Theoretical science, at best, Mulder. - Yeah.
We're not gonna do this parallel universe,
sci-fi gobbledygook, nerd boy, okay?
So just, please, drop it.
Because that crap gives me a headache.
It's a lot better
than some evil entity zapping people's brains
with a hypno-ray gun?
I never mentioned a hypno-ray gun...
Guys...
it's faulty memory because Occam's razor.
That's "Ozzie's razor," not Occam's.
It's always been Ozzie's razor.
Maybe in a parallel universe it is,
but in still yet another universe,
it's perhaps known as "Occam's ax."
It's not parallel universes!
Now, look,
since I'm the only one with any proof of this insidious plot...
What proof? You've yet to offer any proof.
Proof is in the fact that once I uncovered what they were up to,
they turned the Mengele Effect on me.
Just, look.
It's my high school yearbook my mom kept, right?
There is not a single picture of me in here... anywhere.
There's not any inscriptions from my classmates here.
No "Have a great summer," "You were funny in math class."
Nothing. It's like I never even went to this school.
Maybe you did, but in a parallel universe.
Exactly... Knock that off.
Reggie, none of us remember our high school years
with much accuracy.
Skulls, I wish this was about my own psychological issues.
That way, the memorabilia shop owner would still be alive.
When I went back to tell him about the conspiracy
to manipulate memory, and to see if he had those little...
Do you guys remember the little candies
that were shaped like watermelon slices,
but they taste like coconut?
When I went back, they had silenced him.
They had impaled him with a lawn dart.
I'm sorry, but
what's a lawn dart?
Oh, it's this kid's game, where you would try
to throw these mini-metallic javelins into the air
onto these rings that you put on a lawn.
And they sold these to kids?
We were made of sterner stuff back then, Scully.
Well, it just sounds like an accidental death to me.
No! No, that's what they want you to believe!
Sounds like your ride's here.
- You're not... - She thinks I'm just some kind of
conspiracy nut. Well, you know what?
A conspiracy nut is right twice a day.
No, that's a broken clock.
Okay, it still applies because
they want you to think all conspiracies are nutty,
so you will ignore the ones that are true.
Reggie, take it from a fellow nut, okay?
At some point, you're gonna have to explain who "they" are.
You keep on referring to this omnipresent, mysterious "they"
to give intentionality to random events,
or external explanations for psychological ones.
But there's no "they" there.
Who is "they"?
This guy!
He is They!
This is the story of a man named They.
Dr. Thaddeus Q. They, a neuroscientist
who has discovered a way to manipulate collective memory.
Most people have never heard of him, or rather, they have,
but he has manipulated their memories to make them forget
that they ever have.
While working on NASA's
top secret Operation Soy Bomb,
involving future, one-way space flights beyond our realm,
Dr. They devised a technique to change specific memories,
which would allow astronauts to complete their mission
without being weighed down by thoughts of life back on Earth.
However, Dr. They was fired
for also making the astronauts think
that they were chimpanzees.
He perfected his research while at the U.S.
university hospital in Grenada,
and now applies his method for a number
of unknown, mysterious clients.
His memory manipulations have run the gamut
from Holocaust denial
to corporate product recognition
to making people forget he, himself,
once starred as an irrepressible genie
in a movie called Ka-Blaam!
Dr. They has not been heard of
for many years, but rumors swirled
that he was at the last presidential inauguration,
where, amongst the hundreds of millions who attended,
he was seen occupying the last remaining seat available.
And as to his motivations for being there,
and what exactly he is up to now, we have no way of knowing.
Or perhaps we once did,
but have since been made to forget.
Oh. What the hell was that?
That video was...
unbelievable.
You want to hear unbelievable,
check out some of these comments.
"I think the editing could have been tighter."
This jerk just says, "Meh."
When I stumbled across this on the Darknet,
I tried to confirm as much of it as I could,
but I was only able to verify the most important part...
the Grenada thing.
That was the most important part?
Tell me, Little Miss Skeptic, why did we invade Grenada?
Uh... when was that again?
There was a Marxist overthrow of the government,
and Reagan was concerned about some U.S. students
at a university hospital.
Okay, now you're just...
- What? - You're just embarrassing
yourself at this point.
Those were the official reasons,
but no one really remembers the reasons,
not even me, and I was there!
And I found this amongst my mom's stuff.
I wrote it when I was in Grenada, when I was 18,
to be read when I turned 50.
"To myself at age 50.
Always remember..."
And the rest of the letter's redacted.
Who redacted it?
I think I did when I wrote it.
It was meant as kind of a joke, but... I mean, that kind
of stuff was funny to me when I was a kid.
Okay, what does this prove?
You're missing the most important part.
Oh. A Grenada UFO stamp.
- Yeah. - What's that?
The Prime Minister of Grenada once advocated in front
of the U.N. for the creation of a department of UFO research.
He-he issued these stamps to raise money for that effort.
After he was deposed, he confessed that a UFO
had crashed off their coast, and a dead alien
had been recovered from the waters.
Correct, except for one detail.
The alien wasn't dead!
Now, I was a med student at that hospital.
That's where they brought in the semiconscious alien,
and Dr. They was in charge of trying to save it.
Apparently the alien had been sent to Earth
to warn us about the holes in the ozone layer.
One of his people would return in 35 years to see
if we had managed to avoid environmental catastrophe.
Now, I only caught glimpses of their conversation.
The two of them talked alien telepathically.
I will telepathically transfer to you
all our knowledge of what you call "the brain."
But that's when the invasion occurred
and the men from the government showed up.
Wait, what?
I don't know if I repressed the memory
or Dr. They erased my mind, but...
seeing that stamp,
it all came flooding back to me.
Now we're dealing with recovered memories?
I-I'm sorry. I'm out.
Reggie, what you
told us is theoretically possible.
But more likely in another universe.
The one thing I didn't forget
was the telepathic screams of that alien.
No, wait, what are you...? Hey. Oh.
Oh... no...
I wanted to know where the men
from the government took him.
That's when I dropped out of med school,
joined the FBI.
And that's how I started the X-Files.
That's right.
We used to be partners!
Yeah. Mulder.
- Foxy. - Oh, hey, Reggie. What's up?
Got this really cool poster for the office, man.
I think you're gonna flip over it.
Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI's
most unwanted.
Move along, sugar boobs.
This is the X-Files. No women allowed.
That guy is so creepy.
Changes world history.
And then Columbus never discovers America.
Man never lands on the moon.
The U.S. never invades Grenada.
Wait, wait, wait, wait.
What's this about Grenada?
Guys, if this turns out to be killer cats,
I'm gonna be very disappointed.
She's their mother.
Wait, if she's their mother, how can she be their...
Oh, boy.
All those memories...
You guys mean to tell me you don't remember any of that?
Not even...
our last case together?
This is the Mengele Effect in action.
Dr. They is using it against us because he knows
that we are the only team capable of stopping him.
There is no Dr. They.
Really?
Well, tell that to his henchmen.
And he sent more of them.
FBI.
- FBI. - What are you doing here?
You don't know?
The legend that I've heard so much about
would have already figured out who this guy was
that you've been talking to,
and why we were asked to find out why you are.
But I guess that's how things go:
you start out a rebel,
but then you get fat.
And the next thing you know...
you're deep state.
Sad.
Do you know who I am?
I'm Fox Mulder.
I was fighting the power and breaking conspiracies
before you saw your first chemtrail, you punks.
I'm Fox freaking Mulder, you punks!
I'm Fox Mulder!
Fox Mulder!
So this moron's father
is somehow connected there.
Reggie...
To Bob Dylan, whose '98 Grammy performance
is remembered by millions because a half naked man
with the words "soy bomb" written on his chest
jumped onstage and started dancing like a spaz.
But no official video of the incident exists.
Did it even happen?
Seven years later, the band Eels releases a song,
"Whatever Happened to Soy Bomb?"
A coded message?
Especially because the band's lead singer,
the son of Hugh Everett III, who originated
the many-worlds interpretation of quantum physics...
and I'm right back to parallel universes again.
It's true, Scully, I've lost the plot.
I can't find the hidden connections
between things anymore.
The world has become too crazy
for even my conspiratorial powers.
Maybe you've just lost your taste for it,
especially after all this "birther" stuff.
Maybe.
Maybe it's just realizing the absurdity
of an evil doctor named They.
Mulder.
When? Where?
Who was that?
Dr. They.
Dr. They, I presume?
Kids today don't even know what this means.
Why should they?
I mean, when's the last time someone admitted
doing something they were ashamed of?
Even if caught on tape doing it, they just say,
"Well, that was taken out of context."
Yes, but why are you shaming me?
Someone who's spent his life seeking the truth
behind every great conspiracy,
and you're only now finding out about me?
Perhaps it just goes to show
how good you are at hiding in the shadows.
Who's hiding? I'm in the phone book.
But nobody knows what's a phone book anymore.
I have to admit, what little I know of you
I got from a rather dubious online video.
Oh. Did you like that? I made it.
"phony fake news."
It's a presentation of real facts,
but in a way that assures no one will believe any of it.
To what end?
The bitter end.
Which is why, when I became aware
that you were finally aware of me,
I felt a professional courtesy to meet with you
and to tell you this in person...
you're dead.
Oh, that came out wrong.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to scare you.
I meant your time,
Agent Mulder, your-your time has passed.
Okay. So, what is, or what was my time?
Well, it's a time when people of power thought
that they could keep their secrets secret
and were willing to do anything to keep it that way.
Those days are passed. Gone.
We're now living in a post-cover-up,
post-conspiracy age.
N-No doubt, the kids will come up with
some catchphrase for it.
"Po-co" or something. They'll say, like,
"Oh, that's so po-co."
It'll make you wish you really were dead.
As long as the truth gets out...
They don't really care whether the truth gets out,
because the public no longer knows
what's meant by "the truth."
- What do you mean? - Well, I mean,
no one can tell the difference anymore
between what's real and what's fake.
There's still an objective truth, an objective reality.
So what?
I mean, you take this Mandela Effect.
Well, in the old days, I would never have come out
and admitted to you that, yes,
I can change people's collective memories.
And that would have meant that I could control the past.
And if that's true... well, as Orson Welles once said,
"He who controls the past, controls the future."
It was George Orwell that said that.
Well, for now maybe.
Anyway, the point is, I can tell you all of this,
right out in the open, because it doesn't matter
who knows about it.
They won't know whether to believe it or not.
To be honest, I'm not believing any of this.
Well, believe what you want to believe...
that's what everybody does nowadays anyway.
You're only proving my point, you twit.
But, full disclosure, you're right.
I can't control people's minds.
Although it turns out you don't really have to.
All you need is some people to think it's possible.
And then you've sown the seeds of uncertainty.
All you really need is a laptop.
So that's what this has all been about?
The spread of online disinformation?
Maybe.
You know, our current president once said
something truly profound.
He said, "Nobody knows for sure."
What was he referring to?
What does it matter?
Mulder!
How the hell did you get in here?
Foxy, what did you find out from They?
I'm not exactly sure what to think about any of it.
Oh, God. What did They do to you?
Look, that's exactly what they want you to think
about everything.
First thing I need to do is find out who you are.
His name is Reginald Murgatroid.
Using your yearbook,
I tracked down your high school transcripts.
You only spent a few weeks there, and you didn't graduate.
But after completing your GEDs, you enlisted in the army
and participated in the invasion of Grenada,
where one of the resistance soldiers/construction workers
hit you on the head with a shovel.
You received medical assistance
at the U.S. university hospital there.
After your stint in the military,
you engaged in a series of bureaucratic jobs
in various federal agencies.
Starting with the U.S. Postal Service.
Then, the Internal Revenue Service.
The Security and Exchange Commission.
And the Department of Justice, specifically
in the Witness Protection Agency.
All right, Anthony "The Meat Grinder" Mortillaro,
onetime hit man for the mob,
you are now Tony Jones, real estate agent.
But after 9/11, you joined the CIA.
Hey.
And then onto the Pentagon, with the Department of Defense.
Boom goes the dynamite!
Wait.
Was that a wedding cake?
Damn it! Not again.
Oh, well, time for lunch.
But your longest stint
was at the NSA, the National Security Agency.
So you actually voted for him?
Yeah. He's going to drain the swamp.
Get all those Goldman Sachs people out of the White House.
Hey, Scully, did I ever tell you about the time
I found a Sasquatch footprint in the mud?
Ah, yeah, you did. I've heard this before.
It was 35 years ago, about,
- on the banks... - It was on the banks
- of the mighty Mogoagogo River. - of the Mogoagogo River.
Until about a year ago,
when you were committed to a mental institution
because you'd had a nervous breakdown.
Wait... what?
Or perhaps
it's merely the culmination of disillusionment of a man
who simply wanted to spend his life in service of the country
that he loved, but began to feel tormented by the idea
that he was betraying its very ideals.
And so, using information, apparently gathered
through illegal, warrantless wiretaps,
you escaped into a fantasy where you imagined
that you joined a team that still did
fight for truth and justice.
Or...
I'm from a parallel universe, and I jumped dimensions...
no, that's stupid.
Right? Sorry.
Mm-hmm.
Well...
looks like my ride is here.
Hey, guys.
Uh, you remember what I said last time
about if you wanted me to come along peacefully?
Aw, Mr. Murgatroid, it demeans all of us.
No. No, it gives us a touch of classicism.
Mm.
So you remember how, uh,
crazy people used to be portrayed
as thinking they were Napoleon?
When did that stop?
Maybe it's another Mengele Effect, right?
Well, uh, take care, guys.
Stay sane.
And, um, good luck with the rest of your cases.
Reggie.
Our last case together, what happened?
We found the truth that's out there.
I'd suddenly recalled the Alien at Grenada's declaration,
that one of his kind would return to Earth 35 years later.
Foxy's crazy intuition of the uncanny led him to figure out
the location of the visitation.
Scully drove.
There it is!
Is that what I think it is?
It's the gold record.
Yup.
It's the Voyager.
What's left of it.
Greetings, Earthlings.
I come before you as a representative
of the Intergalactic Union of Sentient Beings
from All Known Universes and Beyond.
We have been observing your species
for many, what you call, "years."
Our study is now complete.
We no longer wish to have any further contact with you.
We have returned your music sampler
but will no longer tolerate any further efforts on your part
to venture beyond your realm.
We are building a wall.
It will be a beautiful, albeit invisible, electromagnetic wall
that will subatomically incinerate
any probes you attempt to send beyond your solar system.
You're free to explore Uranus all you want.
But we can't allow your kind
to infiltrate the rest of the cosmos.
You're not sending us your best people.
You're bringing drugs.
You're bringing crime.
You're rapists.
And some, I assume, are good people,
but we have no choice.
Believe me.
For although the rest of the galaxies
all have their share of these same problems,
we fear you could infect us with the one trait
that is unique to Earthlings.
You lie.
To show there are no hard feelings,
we've compiled a compendium of answers to any questions
you might still have regarding...
anything.
Good luck, and good riddance.
Bing, bing, bong, bong, bing.
So that's the truth?
We're not alone in the universe, but nobody likes us?
It's okay, Mulder.
- There'll always be more X-Files. - No.
They gave us all the answers to everything.
Even Sasquatch.
No! It's not true!
It can't be.
It's time to face the facts, guys.
This is the end of the X-Files.
But maybe the point wasn't to find the truth,
but to find each other.
For no matter where we go in our lives,
we will always have the memories of our time together,
and no one can take those away
or alter them in such a way to make us doubt
that they actually happened.
Oh, Reggie.
I've always...
Shh.
I know.
And as we now know,
they lived happily ever after.
We'll be sure to come visit you, Reggie.
No, you won't.
Where the hell are they taking Reggie?
Wait, what?
Hmm.
I see you found your lost episode.
Turns out it wasn't a Twilight Zone after all.
It was a knockoff show called The Dusky Realm.
Which is now lost for the ages.
Couldn't find anything to set it in, so I used your...
Bigfoot impression as a mold.
Oh, no, wait, you first.
It could be the lemon-lime.
But... yeah...
Oh...
I want to remember how it was.
I want to remember how it all was.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com