by Mark Frost
March 2, 2 P.M.
Received my first merit badge today for knot tying. Would not have completed it so quickly without the help of Marie, who let me practice tying her up in her bedroom. After I finished with the double half hitch, Marie said it was her turn and tried to secure me to the bedpost with a square knot, which was actually a granny knot that slipped and I was able to get away. This is an important lesson in the value of a correct knot.
March 8, 10 P.M.
Grandmother Cooper had a stroke today and died. She had been visiting us this week. Mom said she had dreamed that something bad was going to happen, and this morning when Grandma was making a pie in our kitchen she had a stroke and fell to the floor with the pie.
I had never seen a dead person before. When I found her, she was lying straight as a board next to the kitchen counter. The pie had tipped over and some of the cherries landed on her cheek, staining it bright red so it looked like she had put too much makeup on. Her eyes were open and her left hand gripped her apron, which had yellow flowers on it.
Then Mom called Dad and the doctor. Then she took my hand and we looked at Grandma for several moments. She had me place my hand on Grandma's forehead so that I would know that death was nothing to be afraid of. I was not afraid. I thought she felt like an old leather handbag.
The doctor came and covered her with a brand-new sheet, and took her away. He said she had died quickly and that she never felt any pain.
I read in a science book that electricity is what keeps us alive. I do not understand where it comes from and where it goes when we are dead. Dad said that was the big question, and that he did not know the answer. Neither do I.
March 20, 1:30 A.M.
Mr. Botnick across the street just came running out of his house naked and ran down the block yelling that they were climbing all over him. I do not know who they are. And have not seen Mr. Botnick since he turned the corner ten minutes ago.
March 30, 7 P.M.
Have just finished reading about Sherlock Holmes in The Hound of the Baskervilles. I believe Mr. Holmes is the smartest detective who has ever lived, and would very much like to live a life like he did. It is the Friends School belief that the best thing one can do in life is to do good rather than do well. I believe that in Mr. Holmes I see a way to accomplish this.
April 2, 8 A.M.
It is the job of every detective to solve mysteries. Have therefore decided on my first case. At eight-thirty in Room Eleven every girl in the eighth grade goes to health class. What goes on behind those doors is a deep secret that all girls have been sworn to protect. I intend, to crack the case by crawling into the air vent above the classroom and taping the class with my tape recorder. I have told no one of my plan except Bradley, who said it was the greatest thing anyone could ever do. if I am caught, my prospects for a full and normal eighth grade are slim at best. But there is no turning back now.
April 2, 8:25 A.M.
Have entered the air vent in the janitor's closet and am proceeding along over Mr. Barstow's history class. Do not believe the vents have been dusted since the school was built or were designed to let a reel-to-reel in a knapsack pass through easily. Will have to come up with an explanation for my appearance when I have completed the mission.
April 2, 8:30 A.M.
(Whispering) Below me is a sight that few living eighth graders have ever seen. Mrs. Winslow is standing at the front of the class next to the blackboard. On the board is a life-size picture of a naked woman with all her insides showing. On the table is a model of what I believe to be a breast made of clear plastic. It seems to be larger than any breast I have ever imagined with what appears to be a network of channels running through it. I guess that is where all the milk goes. Mm. Winslow has picked up her pointer. This is a great moment.
* * *
The following twenty minutes of tape were erased in 1968.
* * *
April 3, 5:30 P.M.
Suspicion, I believe, began when I failed to explain my presence in the air vent to Mr. Brumley, the janitor, as I climbed back into his closet. I attempted to tell him that I was studying the flow of air in confined spaces, but it is very hard to lie to a Quaker, so I just ran. This morning I was called into the headmaster's office when I arrived at school. With him were Mrs. Winslow, and Mr. Brumley, who had followed my trail of dust in the air vent. The tape is gone. I surrendered it to the headmaster. And I now have to write a five-hundred-word essay on respect of privacy. My tape recorder has also been banned from school for the rest of the school year unless I get written permission from a teacher.
April 4, 8 P.M.
Martin Luther King was assassinated today in Memphis, Tennessee. He was shot in the neck while standing on the balcony of a motel. I was in the car with Dad when the news came over the radio. He said shit. The first time I have ever heard him say that word. We then drove home and watched the news on the TV with Mom. There are riots in many places. I believe that the FBI must be on the trail of the man who killed him, and that they will catch him. I wish I was older. And that I knew more than I do.
April 19, 4 P.M.
Turned fourteen today. Mom and Dad gave me a Timex watch. submerged it in bathtub for fifteen minutes and it still ticks. My brother has moved to Canada to become a lumberjack. At least that's what my mom said. She said we won't see him again until all the trees have been cut down. I think he's really gone cause his draft number is three.
April 20, 9 P.M.
Identified all local poisonous plants and became a second-class scout today. Then performed Heimlich maneuver on Mr. Tooley, the scoutmaster, when he choked on a dandelion during an "eating in the wilds" demonstration.
May 2, 11 P.M.
Marie told me today that she could no longer talk to me until I was older. I told her that I just had a birthday, but she didn't believe me, so I followed her after school and saw her kissing Daren Seedler outside Duva's Café. Believe there to be a connection between these events.
May 12, 7:30 P.M.
Invited Marie to party this afternoon but she did not want to come. The shades in her bedroom are always dosed now. Feel stupid talking into this machine.
June 6, 3:30 A.M.
Dad woke me up, telling me Bobby Kennedy had been shot in Los Angeles. Dad is still downstairs sitting in front of the television, waiting to hear if Bobby is alive. On the radio they played a tape of the shooting recorded by a reporter. You can hear the pop of the gunshots, then people yelling, "Get the gun, get the gun."
The three of us listened, then Mom made Dad a chicken sandwich and went to bed. Next door I can see that the light is on in Marie's room. She had been wearing a Kennedy button every day in school.
June 6, 5 A.M.
Bobby Kennedy died of a gunshot to the head. Dad has gone down to the printing shop. Mom is asleep. Marie's light went out a few minutes ago. The shade then opened and I could faintly see Marie standing in the dark, naked, looking toward my window. Her hands were straight down at her sides, and she stayed that way for almost a minute before stepping away into the dark. Why did she do that? Did she know I was here? I am very confused about very many things.
June 8, 9 P.M.
The train carrying Bobby Kennedy came through Philadelphia. The cars were led by two black engines that traveled very slowly. The tracks were lined with people standing and watching as it passed. Many men saluted as it went by. When it was gone I saw Marie standing alone, holding her Kennedy button in her hand. I walked over to her and said hi. She took my hand and walked with me over to the corner. She then kissed me on the lips, moving her tongue around inside my mouth in what I think was a clockwise motion. Then her eyes filled with tears and she turned and ran down the block out of sight.
June 14, 4 P.M.
School is over. Bradley has been shipped off to camp somewhere in Maine, where he is supposed to learn how to talk French. Do not understand why he has to go to Maine to do that. Maxie left this morning on a trip with her parents to the
national parks. Dad took a picture of them standing in front of the station wagon all loaded up, holding a big map of the United States. Marie did not look happy. Have not talked to Marie since the day that the train came through. Called her house once, but her mother answered, so I hung up. Have thought about her a great deal and wondered what would have happened this summer if her father didn't want to see the Grand Canyon.
June 20, 1 P.M.
Have decided today that I am going to become an FBI agent, and that I must begin to work very hard at my dream if it is ever to become true. Wrote Mr. Hoover a long letter explaining my plans and asked for any advice that he could offer. Letter goes as follows:
Dear Mr. Hoover,
Have made a decision today to become an FBI agent at earliest possible date. I am presently fourteen years old, and on road to becoming Eagle Scout by fifteen. Have never broken any laws, though if you look into my records you will discover that I was recently caught audiotaping a girls' sex education class while hidden in a heating vent. Do not feel this should be held against me, for my intent was purely scientific, and not for personal gain. Would like very much to come and meet you and discuss any experiences you may have had with audio tapes yourself.
Yours truly,
Dale Cooper
* * *
Chapter 2
"I remember exactly when it was that Dale got the letter from Hoover. July 3, 1968. Dale was a second-class scout and I was a first. He brought it to the troop meeting wrapped in a silk shirt he borrowed from his mother. The scoutmaster, Mr. Tooley, had everybody line up so they could get a look at it, then shake Dale's hand. You could tell right then that Dale knew exactly what he was going to do for the rest of his life. I remember because it was the same day that me and two other first-class scouts made a rocket out of match heads that we shot off after the troop meeting. Went sideways through Mr. Nordstrom's screen porch and put a hole in a painting of the Last Supper that his wife painted on a trip to the Poconos."
Newt Cummings
Boy Scout troop member
Plumber
July 3, 8 P.M.
Have received letter from Mr. Hoover congratulating me on my esprit de corps in the taping of the sex education class, and encouraging me not to let getting caught interfere with future projects, and that they certainly don't at the FBI. He also said that I was the kind of material that he wished he had more of at the Bureau, and invited me to come down for a special tour in Washington and meet a real special agent.
July 15, 11:30 A.M.
Bound for Washington on the ten-twenty express on my way to the FBI with Dad, and a pound cake that Mom made for Mr. Hoover. Am wearing my suit and tie, well-shined shoes, and have taped my first-class scout badge to my jacket pocket. We are to meet a special agent who will be showing us around, then will meet Mr. Hoover if he can fit us in.
July 15, 7 P.M.
On our way back to Philadelphia. Mr. Hoover liked the pound cake a great deal. Dad took a picture of me standing next to him, holding a Thompson sub-machine gun which he said he used to gun down gangsters back in the good old days. Then we went on a tour of the building with a special agent and got to shoot a service revolver on their gun range. The special agent scored well, hitting five out of his six shots within the mark. I outpointed him on the last shot with a round just inside the bull's-eye. Suggested he lean a little more into the pistol to compensate for the kick. He thanked me and asked that I not mention this to any of the other agents.
We finished our tour after we saw the eyeglasses John Dillinger was wearing when he was shot in Chicago. All in all an A-1 day.
July 15, 11:30 P.M.
Am back home. On the train ride Dad was very quiet, then told me a story about the war. He and some other soldiers were in a village in France. The townspeople all told them that a farmer was a collaborator and would tell the Germans that they were in the village. So the soldiers went to the farmhouse and found the man, his wife, and two daughters. The farmer gave them some wine and cheese, then took them to see his barn, and one of the soldiers shot and killed him. Dad then told me that he was very proud of me, but that I must be sure to make up my own mind about things in the world. I am not sure what he means, but he said someday I would understand. I asked him to tell me more about what he saw in the war, but he just looked out the window of the tram at the lights passing by and didn't say a word all the way home.
August 10, 6 P.M.
Marie returned from vacation today and I have noticed several changes. One, she seems to be smiling almost constantly. I attributed this to her being glad that she was home, but when I asked her she just laughed and started painting a big yellow flower on her forehead. I then told her that I had met Mr. Hoover and she said that I was an establishment pig and that my heart was rotten and that I would never achieve nirvana. I told her that was not true, but that I would have to check my scout manual to see if an Eagle Scout was required to have nirvana or not. She just laughed again and started painting another flower on her face. I have since looked up nirvana and this is what it says: "A place or state of oblivion to care, pain, or external reality: a goal hoped for but apparently unattainable." I am not sure what Marie saw in the Grand Tetons, but I believe she must have had a very powerful experience.
September 1, 4 P.M.
The following incident happened at about 3 P.M. today. While inside of Simms' Hardware, a large colored bird flew in through the door and landed near the bins of nails and screws. Mr. Simms then tried to get the bird back out the door with a broom and it panicked, flying right into my head. I then ran into the plumbing section with the bird hanging on to my hair, where Mr. Simms smacked me in the face with the broom, knocking me to the floor and sending the bird into an air duct, where it was chopped up by a fan. I do not like birds. Mr. Simms gave me a free claw hammer for being a good sport.
September 9, 8 P.M.
First day of school. Am signed up for science, mythology, math and English. Also had the choice between acting in the school play or joining stage. I chose stage crew. Marie is among the drama group, and I do not believe it would be a good idea to be close to her as long as the flowers are still on her face.
September 20, 6 P.M.
At four-thirty today I found the following while walking home through Fairmount Park: a pair of sandals, the kind made out of old car tires; three used wooden matches; a small pile of burnt ashes and cigarette paper; a toothpick; several buttons from a shirt; an earring; several deep trenches dug into the ground; and the remains of a cheese steak sandwich. After close examination of the scene I do not believe foul play is involved, and that the following events explain what happened. A man and a woman, while sharing a steak sandwich, lost an earring. In looking for the earring several buttons were lost from a shirt. The sandals were then misplaced as darkness fell and the couple left the scene to find a flashlight, but were unable to retrace their steps. I still have not been able to explain the trenches in the ground.
September 30, 11 P.M.
Uncle Al, the magician, paid a visit over the weekend. The last time we saw him was when we took a trip to the Poconos, where he was performing as Ricardo the Great in the dinner show with a dog act. Don't think Dad likes to see his brother too often. I think he thinks of him as irresponsible and untrustworthy. The magic business has been slow, so Uncle Al is on his way to Florida to sell Bibles. On Saturday he taught me how you can count all the different cards you use when playing twenty-one so you know that other people aren't cheating. We then went down to a men's social dub, where a number of men were playing cards and, I believe, gambling. Uncle Al was right, you can keep track of every card in the deck, and I did not find any evidence that any of the other players were cheating. We were doing quite well when a large man with an ear missing suggested that it was my bedtime and that we leave. I was not at all sleepy, but Uncle Al said I was. He picked me up and we ran all the way home. When I awoke the next morning he had gone, but left a note saying that a big order for hymn
books had come in and he had to leave in the middle of the night.
October 6, 10:30 P.M.
I am now looking out my window toward Marie's. Firmly believe that there are two people in the room and that one of them is a boy named Howard. Do not believe that they are doing homework, as her parents have gone out to eat at Mr. Steak and I saw Howard sneak in the back door without any books. I believe that whatever hope I had of Marie liking me is now gone.