Sam Pink - The Self-Esteem Holocaust Comes Home

Satan turns back to Khhkr when he feels sugar particles rain on his lap.

KHHKR: Blah blah [getting up] Let’s go.

A very pale, fat man with fetal alcohol syndrome works the register. Purple rings round out his eyes. He takes their bill and looks at it.

EMPLOYEE WITH FAS: Tank ewe.

KHHKR: [staring at him, pointing] You don’t have any friends.

He smiles back.

KHHKR: [evenly] You don’t know anyone that would willingly spend time with you, and that is because you are terrible. I am embarrassed standing in front of you. The way I am supposed to keep my opinion, my disgust towards you, covered. That seems wrong. I know how pathetic you feel [tapping fingers on counter] What do you do when you leave this place? You hang up your nametag and walk home, right. There is nothing at home that you want or care about and you only go there because you paid for it. Did you pay for it? Does your mom pay for it? Is your mom still alive? Did your mom love you? Have you ever thought you loved another human? Have you ever experienced happiness? Do you like to have change in your pockets or not? Did you enjoy buying the shirt or pants you are wearing? When you were in the dressing room, trying them on, did you silently celebrate? Do you enjoy having those glasses that like, get tinted when it gets dark?

Have you ever wanted to just run into a tree headfirst and sleep for a while? How many people have called you stupid to your face, and how many times have you openly agreed? How many times have you agreed quietly? If we were playing a board game, would you look at me or just look down at the pieces? Have you ever been up really late and thought to yourself, “How am I going to stay alive when I hate myself this much?” How many times would I have to hit you in the arm before you cried? Have you ever hurt someone’s feelings and then regretted it? Or do you only get your feelings hurt, but then apologize for other people? [nodding] Yeah, that’s you. That is you.

The employee with FAS leans over the counter on his elbows, and he looks at the bill. He tries to raise his glasses by twitching his nose. His shirt is way too big. His name is written on a plastic tag. And next to the register, there are some homemade cookies with smiley faces painted on them. A waitress comes out from the backroom and stands by the register. Khhkr grabs a smiley face cookie and slides it forward.

KHHKR: And one of these please.

EMPLOYEE WITH FAS: Hi. Tank ewe.

He points at the amount on the register and sniffs. Khhkr gets out her wallet and gives him a twenty, looking from the waitress to him.

KHHKR: You can keep the rest.

EMPLOYEE WITH FAS: Ok. Tank ewe.

Khhkr touches his hand.

KHHKR: [softly] Run away with me. Let’s get married [touches his chin] I love you. Hey look at me. Look at me, I, love you. Leave with me. We can share everything. I’ll make you happy. I promise. We can live on smiley face cookies.

EMPLOYEE WITH FAS: Ok. Ok tank ewe.

KHHKR: I’m average in a way more painful than being below-average.

WAITRESS: [to Satan] Your friend’s an asshole.

SATAN: Yeah, but so are you. And me too. What’s left? Are we done?

Satan smiles at both employees and takes a mint and leaves.

[Later.]

A small bathroom. Satan is cutting Khhkr’s hair. She sits on a folding chair with a cape of old newspaper and he stands behind her. There are loud crunching clips.

Satan: [sprays her hair] What kind of shampoo do you use? It’s making me hard. Is it some kind of raspberry?

KHHKR: [chin against chest] There is only one kind of raspberry. [pauses] There is only one raspberry and it will dominate us all with its giant fists.

They both laugh.

SATAN: [shaking some wet hairs off his fingers] Now I am imagining you standing on a huge raspberry with nothing on but white socks. White socks that are kind of worn-looking and half pulled-off [clips, shakes hair off fingers] On the huge raspberry, you are smiling. Your legs are sinking into the raspberry and there are drops of juice on your knees. You are dying and sinking into the huge raspberry. It’s ok though. You’re smiling.

KHHKR: [laughs] You are imagining one mean-ass raspberry [shivers, hair clippings hit Satan’s feet, he shuffles] Will you defend me from this mean-ass raspberry?

Satan snips his own knuckle.

SATAN: Fuck [puts finger in mouth, spits out some hairs] It depends.

There is silence. During the silence they both think about what it depends on. Clipping sounds.

SATAN: [clears throat] I still have the brownies you made when I first visited you [combing her hair, clipping] When I first went to your house I thought your house looked shitty from the outside. Like I thought an actual piece of shit would answer the door [snips] And I was right.

They both laugh.

KHHKR: [still laughing] Awww shit [stops laughing, brushes nose with hand] I made you the brownies because I thought you would interpret them as a bribe to leave and never come back. Like payment in advance [wiggles toes, looks at them] I figured we would set up a relationship in which I would leave brownies out on the front step and you would take them with the agreement that you were never to see me again. It didn’t work out that way and you kept coming back. That’s fine. It’s fine. Blah blah. It’s like Chad the Fly said.

SATAN: Who?

KHHKR: Chad the Fly, from the book I told you about. He was friends with the frog even though he knew the frog was going to eat him. He knew he was going to die. Chad the Fly said, “Friends are the dead bodies for the larva of relationships.”

Satan lifts her hair. He looks at the back of her neck. He clips her hair then combs it. The quiets are very quiet.

SATAN: [clears throat] Don’t turn around and look at me while I am saying this [clips] Ok?

KHHKR: [pause] Ok.

SATAN: When I got home that night — with the brownies — I took them out of the glass tray and wrapped them in an unfolded napkin. Then I put them in the fridge [pause] They’re still there. I just can’t throw them out. I can’t throw out the brownies you made. You made them so good I think [clips, shakes scissors off to the side] Sometimes I open the fridge and think, “It’s time to throw them out.” And I even reach in like I am going to do it. But I don’t. I never do. Really though — they’re too nice. They’re too nice to throw out. If those brownies were real people, I would like, take them to a dance or ask them out for dinner [stops cutting] The brownies, they are nice to have to look at when I can’t help but notice that I am alone in my apartment — and I start thinking, what if that is the only nice thing anyone will ever do for me? Really though [resumes cutting] they’re way too pretty. And now they’re all thin and hard, wrapped in a napkin deep in the back of my fridge. I look at them every once in a while because I just can’t throw them out. Or eat them. They’re too pretty. Really. I think maybe something like that is impossible to explain [puts a wet clipping in his pocket] Tonight when the sun sets I will lay my head on the horizon and wait to be crushed. Don’t come and get me. Don’t come and sweep me up. Don’t do anything except be the greatest [laughs quickly] Did Chad the Fly say anything about greatness.

KHHKR: Your fingers are cold [shivers then straightens] Cut my hair so close that it disappears and never comes back. I’m too pretty for you [evenly] Too fucking pretty.

SATAN: You could pretend I am hair and do that to me, if you want to. I’d let that happen.

Khhkr catches clippings in her overturned palms. She looks at them. Then turns her hands over and drops them.

KHHKR: From now on I want you to fuck me through the open zipper on my pants. Because I don’t want to be naked in front of you.