Sam Pink - The Self-Esteem Holocaust Comes Home

THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [staring at the bloodstain] No I don’t want them in there together. That’s my mom. She must be held above all other things. When I think about my mom, I try to immediately think of me too so we can be together. But it is impossible to think about myself. [breathes heavily, teary-eyed]

He runs to the car and grabs the gun from the floormat. He shoots himself in the mouth and falls to the road, bleeding from what is now a wedge between his shoulders, in a long sprawl that joins the deer’s. Bloodstain made bright again. The driver stands in it.

THE DRIVER: I kind of feel like jumping up and down and splashing and having fun. But my dad already taught me never to have fun.

He stands in the stain and looks up above the forest.

THE DRIVER: I will always be the last one standing. The earth makes weak products, but didn’t make me. The earth makes shitty merchandise. This is a terrarium and the heatlamp is the sky’s smile and everyone wants to touch it. I am fine with being alone.

He gets in the car and puts his seatbelt on. Drives away. He reaches to the passenger seat, but the gun is gone.

THE DRIVER: [looking at the bloodstained seat] God bless this mess.

He drives through the rest of the forest and comes to an intersection. There, he sees other cars. The other cars confuse him. He begins to cry. He sits in his car, crying.

THE DRIVER: The face drowns. This will be peaceful.

There is a knock in the back of the car. Then more knocking. The driver wipes his face and gets out of the car. He opens the trunk and he lets out a person wearing an ankle length sheet with eyeholes removed. The person in the sheet runs away, appearing to float. Then a car hits the person, and the person lies still.

The livingroom of a single story house. A boyfriend and a girlfriend stand in the livingroom, kneedeep in dust. And they look out the room’s large window into the front yard area. Neither the boyfriend or the girlfriend have eaten in years. Starved very thin, they are looking out the window at the lawn. It’s fall, and there are leaves and sticks all over the ground. Standing on the front lawn there is a policeman, holding a rifle. He is on the lawn looking back at them through the window, pointing the rifle at them. Clouds and sun on projectors above the single story house.

BOYFRIEND: [not looking at girlfriend] He’s still there.

The girlfriend balances herself with a hand on his shoulder while she scratches her shin with the toes on her other foot.

GIRLFRIEND: He will be with us forever [resigned] And I don’t even know the color of his eyes.

BOYFRIEND: [slow blinking] I thought he would be gone for some reason. But I think he’s going to stay. He is not getting thinner either. We’re getting thinner. We are the ones who are getting thinner.

GIRLFRIEND: Even though I am terrified that he will come into our house and kill me, or yikes [hand to mouth, mocking] kill you first and make me watch [looks at him] I’m kind of relieved that now the lawn won’t float away, because he is standing on it. Yes he is doing a good job. If you think about it like that, he’s doing a great job.

The boyfriend continues staring out the window at the policeman. He pinches his girlfriend’s neck and she winces, crying.

BOYFRIEND: Yes I am sometimes grateful to the ceiling because it won’t allow me to float away. I am getting thinner. We are the ones getting thinner.

GIRLFRIEND: [cries a few drops into the dust] I can’t tell if it is worse to have eyes or not have them.

The boyfriend does not look away from the window.

BOYFRIEND: [flatly] Can you tell that I am getting thinner? Do you feel sick looking at me? I haven’t eaten in so long I see neon colored particles raining on me from the ceiling and when it’s time to float I guess I will stand still. I will act like I agree.

GIRLFRIEND: [wipes eyes] You are getting sick and very thin and I can tell that you are a weak, weak motherfucker [through snot and hiccups] If we hold each other we won’t float away [clears her throat, sniffs] He’s still standing there.

BOYFRIEND: He will always be with us. He will never float away. He’ll hold the lawn in place. Which is good because we can’t afford another lawn unless dust becomes money.

GIRLFRIEND: And because we stopped counting, we don’t know the date.

They stand in the livingroom and the rifle stares back. The sun and clouds on the projectors darken. It gets dark and the three of them stare at each other even though they can’t see. They stand through the night, and say nothing. Next day, the same situation. They continue to thin.

BOYFRIEND: [having difficulty talking] I can’t tell if he is still alive or not. It seems hard to tell. Not sure I can see at all anymore. Every dead body is a tumor in this earth. Is that how you see things? Can we talk?

GIRLFRIEND: [putting her thin hair behind her ear] He’s still standing. Standing means still alive. He is still with us [looks directly at boyfriend] You are still standing too — but that’s my decision [points at own chest] I am letting that happen. Remember that, you weak motherfucker. You are a weak motherfucker. If I lie down you would never be able to pick me up. You were born to grow thin enough to float. Get ready. Because I’m not coming with. You’re going alone.

The clouds and the sun on the projector above go black-lighted.

BOYFRIEND: Up until now, I always thought that dying was something that happened to everyone else, but it didn’t necessarily have to happen to me. Is that strange? I mean, I’ve ruined my day so many times it happens without me noticing now. Is that strange? I don’t want to leave the house because I am concerned about the policeman. Very concerned. But, also, almost ready to die.

The boyfriend starts crying. He kneels in the dust. He is hideous, cartoonish. And the girlfriend eats some dust off the ground, let’s a few handfuls fall to boyfriend’s head.

GIRLFRIEND: [dust hanging from mouth] Whenever I see another human crying, I feel angry. That’s my first reaction [pauses, then in tone of warning] The more you cry the thinner you will be. And there are times I know I am being petty and terrible and other times I don’t care. Right now [wiping dust off mouth] I don’t care. When I see another human crying, I feel angry.

BOYFRIEND: Then please don’t look at me [wiping face with forearm] Please don’t.

GIRLFRIEND: I try not to [scoops more dust, drops it on the boyfriend’s head] I can’t even keep my balance when I see your face. Just, overcome with anger. I kind of itch. Does that make sense?

BOYFRIEND: [staring out the window, trying to blink off dust] You are a weak motherfucker.

The girlfriend laughs and cleans off her boyfriend’s face with her hands. She laughs at him.

GIRLFRIEND: Alright do you want me to ask him to go away? I will do that for you. Maybe if I just ask him, he’ll leave [then to herself] I need to know the color of his eyes. I need to see them. Just that.

BOYFRIEND: [nods his head, still crying] Jesus Christ [he burps and some bile sours his mouth] We can’t leave the house. I’m too scared.

GIRLFRIEND: Do you want me to ask him to leave? Say please and I’ll do it. You’re getting so thin it is almost time for you to rise into the air. Should I ask him to leave?

BOYFRIEND: Please.

They kiss, the boyfriend still kneeling. She drops some dust on his head and laughs. They are together.

GIRLFRIEND: Your mouth tastes horrible.

BOYFRIEND: [looking down] I know. It’s because I am hungry. Don’t kiss me if it tastes bad then. You have to have an appetite for a kiss, just like food and sleep and other things, friends maybe too.