Sam Pink - The Self-Esteem Holocaust Comes Home

GIRLFRIEND: [smiles and pinches his sick face] I always have an appetite for a kiss.

BOYFRIEND: Please ask him to leave [pause] I don’t think I have ever come like I want to. Like I really want to [balls fists and puts them over his eyes] Please go tell him to leave [apologetically] I just want to watch tv with you in bed. I want to act like the tv is a third person with us. Ask him to leave so I can come like I really want to. Alright?

The clouds on the projector again go bright. And the girlfriend drops a last handful of dust on the boyfriend’s head then looks at him with contempt. She walks outside and stands in front of the policeman. The policeman is trembling. He rubs his face repeatedly with his shoulder — still aiming the rifle at the house.

GIRLFRIEND: [hand over eyes, squinting] Why are you with us?

POLICEMAN: [wiping face] I don’t know where I am. I just don’t [presenting the rifle to her] Here, please take this. I can barely stand holding it. I don’t know where I am. The middle of the earth is pulling me down, please take this [hands rifle over, wipes his face and panics] The fucking sand. It’s coming out of my face. I can’t get it off. I wish I had eighteen hands so I could brush the sand off. If I had eighteen hands I would split the hands and the nerves would multiply and then I would have three hundred minus forty hands and then I could brush the sand off. I need to scrape the inside of my skin off. That’s where it comes from I think. I haven’t been hard in months. I am getting buried. And the middle of the earth is the criminal that’s stealing me.

GIRLFRIEND: [inspects rifle idly] When you are fully buried I will walk over the mound just to see what the other side looks like. The middle of the earth will pull you very deep and then smooth out the bump that is you on the world’s carpet.

POLICEMAN: [slapping at his face] I can’t get it off my fucking face.

And I can’t push it back in. I think I am going to let it bury me — that will be quicker, yeah I’ll do that, yes ok [stops, notices rifle is pointed at his face] There is nothing in there. In your hands you hold a negated weapon-thing, you hold nothing. There is nothing inside.

GIRLFRIEND: [lowering the rifle] Oh [laughs, embarrassed] no I was just going to help you with the sand on your face. Don’t you want help? I can get it off for you.

POLICEMAN: No. I mean there are only spiders in there. The gun is filled with spiders. Yesterday I was going to point it at the sky and shoot an escape route but then I remembered there is nothing in there. Just spiders.

The policeman slaps at his face and rubs it. He is irritated. The girlfriend undoes the bolt and little orange spiders fall out. She stands back to let the spiders fall to her feet. Then she steps on them a few times to make sure they are all dead.

POLICEMAN: [watching] I don’t blame you. They are killers [wiping his face] But they won’t kill me. Nothing kills me. No. Nothing helps me [eyes narrow] I want to kill your boyfriend. I think I would forget about the sand for a second if I could kill your weakling boyfriend. I see him staring at me. I will not let him leave. After I shoot the escape route I seal it with happy tears. I will never get the sand off my face but I will escape. With your boyfriend dead — with your boyfriend’s blood all over my face to cool off — I escape.

The girlfriend clicks the bolt back into position. More spiders fall out. She steps on them. And the clouds and the sun on the projector go black-lighted. All things are open.

POLICEMAN: The spiders will come back. The spiders are like the sand. The spiders and the sand are the same thing I guess. The sand has little legs. No one can help me get it off. I feel weak [rakes face with fingers] I need to lie down. You can’t count sand. You can only feel it. I murdered these other people once. The last house I was guarding. The only people I have told are you and the grassblades at my feet, at night. So the last house I guarded, I knocked on the door and they let me in. I didn’t feel ok. I was standing there lying to both of them about something, because I just wanted to see them up close. That’s when I heard the refrigerator start to drone. It got really loud. I couldn’t stand it. It hurt my head. I stared at the refrigerator. The people were talking to me. They were so thin. I couldn’t hear them. And I got confused. Then the woman started to run and her husband grabbed me. I realized I had my gun in my hands and I had shot the man in the thigh. He was bleeding a lot, from a huge mess of splayed tissue. His wife tried to go upstairs — but she didn’t step two feet away [raises two fingers] — not two feet, before I nailed her. I nailed her. I don’t even think I thought, I just shot. I shot her right in the fucking waist. Pretty much cut her in half. I mean I did cut her in half. And she let out the sickest moan, then kind of withered up. A human looks strange when there is only half of it. But I loved it. I just watched. I had to watch it. It was the nicest piece of art I ever made. I had to push her husband, or whatever he was, into the wall. He was still attacking me. I maced him and kicked his face until he was quiet. The refrigerator droned loudly. I felt sand all over my face. It stuck to me. I kept itching and yelling to compete with the droning refrigerator. The looks on both their faces when they died were horrible, but I felt powerful for having seen them. The looks on their faces were like they were about to ask a question [thumb into chest] I’m a role model. I’m a great human. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything wrong. I don’t have any regard for other human life. When I searched their house, I found a nailgun. I spent the rest of the night shooting nails into the man’s stomach. It’s ok though — he didn’t feel it [breathes in, then out heavily] The people I killed and the sand are the same thing. The people I killed are the sand. The sun will not set tonight.

Above them, the clouds and the sun return to brightness. And the girlfriend puts the rifle over her shoulder. She squints, blocking the light with her hands.

GIRLFRIEND: How do you feel?

POLICEMAN: [looking beyond her, to the boyfriend] I don’t know what’s happening. I feel this way all the time. I don’t know what’s happening. I know that it is happening. There is no doubt that it is happening [breathes out heavily] Be nice to me please. The sun will not set tonight.

The policeman wipes his face repeatedly. He is irritated. And he directs some of the sand into the gun’s barrel. Then he lies down and hugs the girlfriend’s feet. He looks up, hugging her feet tight and squinting into the air.

GIRLFRIEND: You are a weak motherfucker [motions the sign of the cross in front of the policeman] There you go. You’re good now. You’re still one of the angels. You’re still a weak motherfucker. You can be forgiven for things by not remembering them. You silly willy.

She puts the rifle in the policeman’s mouth and pushes it in deep. The policeman gags. He blinks water out of his eyes and tries to say something. He tries to indicate that the gun is not loaded. But he gives up, and instead smiles and points. Drool falls out his smile. He makes a gun motion with his thumb and forefinger. The girlfriend shoots the policeman and he sleeps on a pile of his own maroon-colored slop. Burn marks rim his mouth and smoke leaves a hole in his head. But he is still himself. The smoke rises and the girlfriend gets on her hands and knees and inhales the smoke. She inhales the smoke from the shattered head and then returns to the house, stands next to her boyfriend. She puts her arm around his shoulder and blows the smoke in his face. They look out the window together. The clouds and sun on the projectors above again go black-lighted.