jerry accidentally walked into someone elses interview so he backtracked and pulled out his phone and just scrolled through it in the middle of the red carpet
does art imitate life? or does life imitate art?
one thing i never do is write a rough draft it’s all or nothing go big or go home
Jerry notices a strange, dirty man in a gray jumpsuit loitering around different parts of his apartment building. He eventually asks Kramer about it.
"Oh, that’s the groundskeeper," says Kramer.
"Groundskeeper?" replies Jerry. "But we don’t have any ground to keep!"
Kramer shrugs. “You worry too much, Jer. You can never just let someone do what they do, can you? You always gotta make some remark about it. Why can’t you just let people be, Jerry? They let you.”
Feeling sufficiently chastened, Jerry resolves to leave it alone, sure there are plenty of things in the building that the man is probably taking care of.
George’s girlfriend insists he do an all-vegetable cleanse with her, to detoxify their bodies and bring them closer to nature. He’s repulsed by the idea and by her attempt to control his eating, but he’s so deeply attracted to her that he agrees to go along with it.
Elaine dates a botanist. At first, she’s thrilled that she’s receiving so many flowers, but after a while, the routine of it fails to trigger the appropriate reward responses in her brain. When she talks to her boyfriend about her feelings, he seems disappointed at first, but then breaks into a mysterious, wide smile. Over the following several days, she receives some of the strangest-looking, most beautiful plants she’s ever seen. “I spliced them myself,” he says proudly.
The elevator doors open on the third floor, and Jerry briefly spots the groundskeeper down the hall, spreading dirt and fertilizer over the carpet. The behavior is unusual, but he’s reluctant to bring it up with Kramer out of fear of getting scolded again. “Just let him be,” he says to himself as the elevator continues down.
Several days into the vegetable cleanse, George feels fantastic. The juices aren’t the most delicious things he’s ever tasted, but most of them aren’t bad. After a week, however, he begins to notice some stiffness in his joints. He complains about it to his girlfriend, who accuses him of trying to wriggle out of the remainder of the cleanse. “Besides,” she says, “you look taller, and I think some of your hair is even growing back.” He rushes to the nearest mirror, immediately forgetting about his stiff joints.
Jerry bumps into the groundskeeper on his way to drop off his garbage.
"Any organics?" asks the man, in a cranky, hissing voice.
"Probably," says Jerry. "I don’t know."
Grinning, the man grabs the bag from him and scampers back into the alley.
"Let him be," mumbles Jerry, walking away.
On a visit to Jerry’s apartment, George realizes he’s somehow grown to be at eye level with Kramer. “This is incredible!” he shouts, shaking Kramer by the shoulders.
"Ooh, you got an iron grip," says Kramer. "Those veggies are doing you good!"
Jerry notices an unsettling gray pallor to George’s skin, but doesn’t bring it up. Nor does he mention how George’s regrown hair has a greenish tint. Just let him be, he thinks, frowning at Kramer.
Elaine feels a sharp jab early one morning, but quickly falls back asleep, thinking it was probably just some sort of insect. A few days later, her boyfriend presents her with a plant that bears a striking resemblance to her — sharp-angled leaves with black, flowing, curly vines tumbling from the top. There’s something unnerving about it, but she’s so impressed and flattered that she ignores the feeling.
Jerry rides the elevator down to the first floor, but when the doors open, there’s dirt up to his chest. Some of it spills into the elevator. He spies the legs of the groundskeeper walking around on top of the thick layer of soil. “Hey!” yells Jerry. “What’s going on?”
“Ground floor!” cackles the groundskeeper.
Shaking his head, Jerry presses a button for the second floor, but the elevator doors are unable to close. He tries to scoop it out of the way, but the groundskeeper quickly rushes over and starts shoveling more into the elevator. Soon, Jerry is completely buried, and quickly loses consciousness.
George’s legs itch. He tries to bend over to reach them, but none of his joints seem to bend anymore. It’s all right, though — he’s taller than he’s ever been.
A squirrel climbs up Elaine’s vines and she shakes it out with the help of some wind. Where am I? she thinks, very slowly, as the groundskeeper packs some fertilizer and topsoil over her roots.
Kramer sits on a bench nearby, under the shade of Jerry’s leaves, eating a sandwich. He wonders what happened to his friends.
Jerry tries to wave at him to get his attention, dropping one of his apples in the process. It rolls and lands next to one of George’s roots.
"Hey, d’you mind?" says George, slowly moaning the words over the course of the next hundred years.
As Kramer slides into Jerry’s apartment, the audience’s applause grows so raucous that George, Jerry, and Elaine eventually throw up their hands in frustration and wander off the set. Kramer remains in the middle of Jerry’s apartment, smiling and nodding his head cockily, his arms spread appreciatively. The audience continues to clap and hoot, their palms stinging horribly. Many suffer fractures of the bones in their hands and arms, but they refuse to leave the studio for treatment.
George wanders back into Jerry’s apartment looking for his keys. Frustrated that the applause is still ongoing, he shoves Kramer, trying to snap him and the audience out of it, but Kramer slides on his slick shoes across the floor, arms waving wildly to maintain balance. The stunt sends the audience into absolute hysterics. People try clapping louder than each other, and soon fights break out over who can show the most appreciation through noise. Factions form, tearing seats out of the floor and stacking them into crude barricades that they shove into each other to make even louder sounds.
George returns to the apartment with Jerry and Elaine, and the three try to pull Kramer out the front door. They manage to drag him to the elevator before he breaks away and runs back to Jerry’s living room. The audience is so thrilled by his return that they begin to tear each other apart so that the horrific, agonized screams might overtake all the other sounds.
Eventually, after almost a day, half the audience has been murdered by the other half, and the remaining members are too weak to engage in any movement at all. The pools of blood have spilled into Jerry’s kitchen, soaking Kramer’s shoes. He takes a step backward, slipping a little, but there are no cheers. Only a few people are able to manage weak groans.
Kramer frowns. “What, that’s all you got?”
Jerry tries to pull a reversal and slide full-force into Kramer’s apartment for once, but is startled to find two other strangers — a man and a woman — hanging out there as well. Kramer explains that the woman is an ex-girlfriend with whom he remained friendly after a breakup years ago, and the man — a stout, balding fellow — is a friend from childhood.
"You… you have your own George?" asks Jerry, astonished. "And your own Elaine?"
"Who are George and Elaine?" asks Kramer.
Kramer accidentally slams a door in Elaine’s face, causing her to break her nose, and she calls Kramer “a societal evil.” Kramer takes the remark very personally, and resolves to become a force for good by learning how to draw police sketches. He gets Jerry to help him practice by forcing him to describe George. “How will this work?” Jerry asks. “You actually know what George looks like.” “Nah, Jerry,” Kramer says, “I purged all my memories of what George looks like. Just tell me.” Jerry finds this odd, but complies. “Well, he’s, uh, a sort of frumpy, bald man…” “Yeah, yeah, keep goin’, Jer.” After several torturous hours, Jerry finally looks at what Kramer has been drawing: Nothing but dark, concentric circles. It does not resemble George, or anything human, merely a whirling void.
Across town, for reasons unknown to him, George spends several hours swirling, whipping about, in the middle of an intersection, until he is nothing but a vertiginous dark cavity, consuming bystanders into his nothingness.
Noting the peculiarity, Elaine asks Kramer to draw a version of her without a broken nose.
Noticing that Jerry has been a bit lonely and down in the dumps, Kramer convinces him to adopt a puppy, claiming he knows “just the one”. The next day, he shows up with the most lovable little dog Jerry has ever seen. The two bond instantly, and from that day on, Jerry is never seen without his canine companion.
Elaine spots shadowy figures prowling on her fire escape several nights in a row and becomes concerned about security. Kramer overhears her expressing her worries to Jerry and tells her he has just the dog for her. Two days later, he presents her with a young but well-trained German Shepherd. Later that night, when a man forces her bedroom window and tries to creep in, the dog charges at him and scares him away. The prowlers never return.
George watches women fawning over a man in the park with a cute dog. He grumbles about it to Jerry. “This guy could be a total loser and they’d still be all over him!” “Sounds perfect for you, then,” replies Jerry, to George’s chagrin. Jerry looks at his own dog. “I think I know who can help you.” The two head across the hall to Kramer’s apartment and knock on the door, but there’s no answer. After a moment, they hear a terrible, pained groan from somewhere deep within, and break down the door. Inside, they find Kramer giving birth to a litter of seven puppies.
VAPOR G R A V E