Fred awakens from a dream of bowling with Garry Granite and Ann-Margrock, in mid-twinkletoes approach. Stomach growling, already hungry for Brontosaurus burgers. But there's a silence he's never experienced before. He calls out, Wilmaaaaaaaa!, but no answer. He jumps up, looks out the window toward Barney's house. Baaaaarney!, he calls. Nothing. Dino, old boy? Nothing.
Gazoo?, he whispers. The green imp pops before him. He floats in the air, tossing a glass orb.
They're all gone, dum-dum. And they're not coming back.
Now, Gazoo, quit playing around. I haven't had breakfast yet and Mr. Slate'll fire me if I'm late again.
You don't get it, do you, dum-dum? Getting your simple Stone Age brain to evolve is going to be burdensome. This charade--all of this, is over. It's just you now.
Does this mean I don't have to go work, Fred asks.
Gazoo nods. Fred grows a tyranosaurus-sized smile, thinks of unlimited bowling, burgers, and cactus cola.
I know what you're thinking, dum-dum, yes, it's all there for you to have, but you're leaving too. And what good would it all be by your lonesome?
Thanks for ruining my fun, Fred shouts.
Fred looks back and forth, up and down, then back at Gazoo, who now has the orb floating before him.
Now, Gazoo, when you say it's over, and I'm going too, just what do you mean?
It means that everyone else is dead.
Dead? What do you mean?
I don't get it.
Sayonara, hasta la vista, dum-dum. Let's just say the Water Buffalo Lodge is down to just one brother...
Fred looks at his three-toed feet and then back at Gazoo, a pensive look on his face.
When's Wilma coming back? Pebbles? Barney?
They're not. No one is, ever.
But why? Why now?
Why not now? Any day is as good as the next, and, here in Bedrock, today is yesterday is tomorrow, so it's all the same day. Have you ever noticed, you never get older? Neither does Wilma? That everyone here wears the same clothes everyday? That everything is always the same?
Fred sits on the bed's edge, looks at his clothes, feels his face.
I don't get what you're saying, Gazoo.
Of course you don't. But I'm here to help. You're the center of this little universe, so you must figure it out so we can close and move on. Once you do, you'll be dead too. And you'll see Wilma again. And everyone else. They're waiting for you, champ.
Fred puts his head between his hands.
I feel as thick as a stegosaurus.
Gazoo floats to him, pats him on the head and smiles.
Don't worry, my sweet, sweet dum-dum. I have faith in you. You will figure it out.
They sat quiet for a few minutes, Fred thinking, Gazoo tossing his orb.
Gazoo, can we go bowling? One last time? It'll help me think.
Gazoo looks into his black eyes. Sad and dense, unaware.
Sure we can, Fred. Sure we can.