The time has come.
I’ve been putting it off over the weekend, attending my best friend’s wedding, going geocaching with my step-son.
But it is time. Money has changed hands, and I have an obligation to fulfill.
I pick him up from my desk, and avoid eye contact as I carry him into the dining room.
I gingerly put him down on my dining room table, and he looks like a patient about to undergo some sort of surgery. Strangely, I feel more like Doctor Giggles than Doctor Green.
He looks up at me and says, “Hey, Wheaton. What do you say you let me out of this box, and take me for a spin in your landspeeder?”
“Can’t do it, Wesley. First, you’re the wrong scale, and second, you don’t belong to me anymore.”
He doesn’t reply. He knows that I’m right.
I uncap a gold paint pen, and get ready. The familiar burn of acetone and paint hits me in the face, and a series of convention memories blurs through my mind, in hyper-real Hunter S. Thompson-o-vision: I sign a plate, a photo, a poster, field a question that I don’t know the answer to, politely decline the offer of a hug from a large woman in a “Spock Lives!” T-shirt. The memories race past, and I watch them with a certain amount of detachment, a spectator to my own life.
Although the places and people changed, there was little difference from one hotel convention hall to the next: The same questions, the same jokes, the same inescapable smell…the memories engulf me with a frightening and surprising lucidity. I think that I’ve allowed these events to drift into the distance of memory, but they come back, immediate and insisent, as if no time has passed.
He looks at me, daring me to give voice to these thoughts.
I realize that we are very interwoven, whether we like it or not, and as I open my mouth to speak, something I’d never thought of before comes into my mind: I can exist without him, but he could not, would not, does not exist without me.
Suddenly, I feel free.
I lift the pen up, and touch it to the plastic, and write what I’ve been asked to write:
“Vincent –
“I am sick of
following rules and regulations!
-Wil Wheaton”
It’s done.
I sit back, and regard him. He’s obscured by my writing, which casts a lattice-work of shadows across his face and body. The symbolism of this moment is not lost on me.
“You know, that was a cool line,” he says. “Remember how cool it was to stand up to Picard?”
“Yeah. It was fun being you back then,” I tell him. “I watched Code of Honor last night though. Jesus, you were a dork, man.”
“That wasn’t me, dude. That was Wesley Crusher, the doctor’s son. I’m Cadet Crusher, the bad ass. Wesley was a dork. Cadet Crusher was cool. Need I remind you who waxed Robin Lefler’s ass?”
“Why do you have to talk that way? People have a certain image of you, you know.”
“Hey, they can kiss my shiny plastic ass. I have never been responsible for the things I say. I can only say what someone tells me to say. As a matter of fact, I’m not even talking now. You’re putting all these words in my mouth.”
“So my Tyler Durden is a 5 inch action figure? That’s just perfect. At least you can’t force me into some sort of Project Mayhem.”
“Oh, I can’t?”
I can’t tell through the gold paint pen, but I think he’s sizing me up.
“You’re such a pussy, Wheaton. We were cool when we wore this spacesuit, and you know it. Fucking own that, boyo. If anyone has a problem with that, they can fuck all the way off. ”
I’m a bit shocked to hear this come out of us.
“Uh, Wesley, you really can’t talk like that.”
“I just told you, it’s not me. It’s you, cock-knocker. Now put me in the box, and find some other cool thing to auction. I think I saw a plate in the closet.”
“Why didn’t we ever talk like this before? I never realized that you were cool. Really. I mean, I hated you, man.”
“Yeah, you and every other insecure teenage boy. Listen, and listen good, because I’m not saying this again.
“You have always cared too fucking much what other people thought of us. Go read your stupid website, and listen to your own advice. You’ll be much happier. Now put me in the box and let’s get this over with.”
I look at him, and a touch of sadness passes over me.
“Wesley, I have always been, and I always will be –”
“Oh Jesus H. Christ! I can’t believe you were going to quote Star Trek. I am so embarrassed for you right now. Just close the fucking box and send me on my way.”
I do it. I put him in the box, drop in some packing stuff and a few stickers.
We drive to the post office in silence.
I walk to the mailbox, and open it.
I think to say goodbye, but I know that Wesley won’t be talking to me anymore.
I place the box on the edge, and lift it up. The box falls into darkness.
I am Wil’s freedom.
225 thoughts on “The Big Goodbye”
Comments are closed.
You know Wil you have to respect anyone that
got to cry with River and pull a gun on Kiefer.
Yes yes THAT movie was on again last night.
Still one of the best of all times.
You still got it Wheaton..sir!
The Wesley Dialogues are your TAL Submission!
Nice Job with them.
Absolutely Rock Star Baby!
I all candor I don’t know what will happen to “The Trade” as a TAL submission. I Enjoyed it and everything, but I don’t know if it “feels like” a TAL submission.
But here me now. Knit this running conversation together into a 10-minute piece and you’ll be getting a call from Chicago.
Your new problem will be how to keep the new legions of Wil Wheaton Dot Net fans happy after you knock the f-ing socks off them at TAL.
Great Piece, Great f-ing piece
-SugarBear
Wiiiiiiiiiiiillllllllll,
Have you died or are you still depressed over Wesley leaving?
Said in a funny way, no offense meant
Lily
I’m offended by that comment..
I’m on a deadline at work, (two episodes due today by 3) and I need to rewrite 3 sketches and 4 new ones by tomorrow.
Holy shit.
So WWDN isn’t getting updates right now 🙁
All I can say is it’s nice to see an actor complaining about having *too much* work.
Have fun writing, Wil. We’ll find some way of amusing ourselves here until you’ve finished. 🙂
Still no new post *sigh
Guess I’ll just get back to work then….
he just posted something. be patient you can still talk to us in here 😀
this is the only chat i have at work since they cut off aim and messenger.. sux
almost time for lunch! the only pleasure i get out of a day.. lunch..
You mean you get no pleasure out of conversing with us here??
Some people…
😀
only when people actually carry a conversation and answer a question you might pose.. that is a good pleasure.. doesn’t happen all that often I guess.
i keep coming back so i must get some pleasure from this.
i couldn’t find the enterprise chat in the soap box.. wanted to discuss that.. o well im just chat board illiterate.
hops
We are a generation of men, raised by really hot Doctors.
I want that man.
Ashley Judd had a hairy ass? Who knew?
I really loved this post. I hope you are ok.
I really loved this post. I hope you are ok.
I really loved this post. I hope you are ok.
Wil,
This is the most obnoxious and arrogant post I’ve seen on your site!
This person invested money in this deal, in part because he appreciates your work in Star Trek, but also, I am sure, because you keep whining about how you need money and support, and that is his way of supporting you.
And here you go comparing him (ever so indirectly) to the fat woman that offers you a hug in a convention, ruining his new overpriced-by-a-good-$295 purchase with some banal clich
Well I have read the above post twice and I still
don’t get it. What DID you say?
*giggles* Noa, I do hope you’re being a parody-character, else your existence must be utterly painful.
Wheaton! I swear to god, you’ve got to buy all the different Wes figures AND MAKE THEM KISS. How many of us can re-enact our childhood with the real character action figures of it?! … Wait, that might be the problem, eh?
No matter! Action figures of yourself – in any costume, mind you, character or role – are fucking cool. And heck man, TNG was the freaking coolest. *hugs her Geordi to her chest and looks starry eyed, then grins* Childhood’s supposed to be weird like that.
All of you are much too impressed by use of “Fight Club” quotes. Why not fous on the elements of this post that retain originality? And seriously, Robin Lefler was a cutie. Forget Tyler’s rules of fight club, remember Robin’s 102 rules.
Very funny stuff Wil. I always hated those idiots who made the DIEWESLEYCRUSHER!!DIE newsgroups back in the day. I really enjoyed the Wesley character, especially in the ep “The Game”. Keep up the great humor.
dude, let it go already…
Dude, I thought that I was the only one that has an action figure as my ‘Tyler Durden’, of course mine happens to be a Boba Fett action figure that hangs, to my wife’s disdain, from my rear view mirror.
Incidentally, Boba is a little more respectful and doesn’t talk shit to me…
Free Willy!
Wil, I don’t know anything about you, but I must say, Wesley is really dumb. As the daughter of two not-recovering (unfortunately) trekkies, I am one to know. Wesley was sort of hated at my house, so it’s good that you’re letting that part of you go. Oh, gosh, I would, if I had been Wesley, or Leslie, or whatever.
hey does anyone know what is meant by this statement in FIGHT CLUB :
“Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big rubbery one”
people love this line but i cant figure it out. please help