glanced over at Maurice...
who not only had stopped snoring,
but was no longer breathing.
Wait a minute.
Maurice stopped breathing?
just like that.
If I hadn't been there
to shake the air out of him,
I'm afraid to think
what might have happened.
Now, Mrs. Klochner,
I realize that this is-is-
it's none of my business,
but, I mean,
just to put this into some sort
of medical perspective,
um, have-have there been
other occasions...
where you noticed this sleep disorder?
Oh, yes.
But it was the first time
he ever actually stopped breathing.
Huh.
Okay, um-
Well, tell Maurice to come in and see me.
Impossible.
He refuses to see a doctor.
I know it's a lot to ask,
but, um, would you talk to him for me?
Sure.
There's a condition called sleep apnea,
which is unusual in adults, actually.
Uh, you stop breathing,
and then after a little while
you start up again.
Is it fatal?
Only if you don't start up again.
Now, all kinds of people
love all kinds of people.
None of it makes any sense,
but when you get right down to it,
love just doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
I'll tell you why.
Half the time,
you're either tramplin'
on somebody's heart,
or half the time
it's your heart that's got the footprints.
Now, usually it's another man or woman
who does the trampling.
But in the case of our beloved founders,
Cicely and Roslyn,
it was that two-fisted cross-dresser
Mortality who did the damage.
Chris?
Hi.
I was just, uh, practicing
my Founder's Day sermon.
I don't know.
Maybe I should play up
that "hardy spinster'' thing.
So I guess this is a bad time, huh?
No, no. No.
I need a break.
Come in. What's up?
Well, I feel really stupid asking you this,
but, uh, well,
if a person has a-
a premonition that
this other person's going to die,
but you're not really close
to that someone or anything,
is it the premonitioner's moral obligation
to warn the premonitionee?
Hmm. Depends on
the nature of the premonition.
I mean, is it a, uh, cold chill
racing up and down the spine,
or something more definite?
It's a dream.
A recurring dream.
Fleischman and I are playing Clue,
and he's wearing this black fedora.
A black fedora?
Uh-huh.
Oh, man.
I've really gotten to likeJoel.
What does that mean?
Maggie, come on.
I mean, your history with men
bein' what it is.
And a black fedora?
How's it happen?
The flight from Anchorage to New York.
No!
The whole plane goes down?
Mm-hmm.
I mean,
I feel like I have to warn him.
Don't I?
Yes, I think so.
I mean, if you don't
and he goes down in that plane,
you gotta live with that
for the rest of your life.
I know.
On the other hand,
what if you tell him...
and the plane that he changes to
turns out to be the one that crashes?
Oh, God.
I didn't even think of that.
Oh, yeah.
This fate thing
can be a tricky business.
We may have been fated
to have this conversation...
and then decide
whatever we decide.
So-So you mean
whatever my decision is,
that's the thing
that's gonna kill him?
It could be. I mean,
we're assuming that you have free will,
and that's not really
that safe an assumption.
So I-I should make a decision,
and then do the opposite thing
really fast?
Yes.
But you were
probably fated to do that.
She told you?
Maurice, she was worried about you.
You'd better zip your lip, boy.
Now, if you say one word
that tarnishes the reputation
of that little lady,
you will have to answer to me.
I will carry her secret to my grave.
Sure. Sexual promiscuity
is de rigueur for rock stars.
But do you have any idea-
any idea-
of the amount of tail
that astronauts have to contend with?
No, I-I don't.
A lot.
Now, yours truly usually refrained
from dipping his wick into the oil lamp,
but Ingrid was one groupie
that I never had the wherewithal
to say no to.
Mrs. Klochner is an astronaut groupie?
Some women, when they see a man
brave enough to blast off...
into the darkness of infinity
in a