Sam Pink - The Self-Esteem Holocaust Comes Home

[Next Day.]

More skeletons. The boy remains absent. Now, a black sphere hangs over the tree. And looking up at the tree, the pedophile stands, scratching his head and looking at his nails. He is very tired.

THE PEDOPHILE: They are still with me.

e blows lice off his nails.

[Next Day.]

The boy brings the rake down to the pedophile. In front of the tree, again wearing the garbagebag over his head, the pedophile stares at the skeletons.

THE PEDOPHILE: [quietly, taking the rake] There are so many.

He hits the thickly-wound skeletons but only loosens small chips. The chippings fall. He realizes he cannot get them down using only the rake anymore, so he climbs the tree and reaches out. He grabs a skeleton and starts shaking it. The rib cage of the skeleton is stuck around a branch, unmoving. And the pedophile shakes harder and harder until he falls from the branch, screaming at the skeleton from which he hangs by his hands. Eventually he pulls the skeleton free, and falls with it — to the boy’s feet.

THE PEDOPHILE: [on his back, looking up at the black sphere] Do you have school tomorrow?

THE BOY: No, I have a three-day weekend [holds two fingers up, then lifts the third with his other hand] Three more days until I have school again.

THE PEDOPHILE: Good. That’s good.

The pedophile stands slowly. He climbs the tree again, with the rake. He looks down at the boy, who is on one knee tying his boot.

THE PEDOPHILE: [to himself] Why doesn’t he want to kiss me. Just split his small skull open with the metallic part of the rake. Just, there [clears throat] One hit would do it [then louder] Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me? I’m a good kisser and my mouth is clean. I flossed the old food out of my mouth and swallowed it. My mouth is very clean why don’t you want to kiss it? Oh. Are you sure you don’t want to kiss my clean mouth? [opens wider the mouthhole on the mask]

THE BOY: [looks up from boots] I’m sure.

The pedophile rests in the skeleton web, with his hands behind his head.

THE PEDOPHILE: I hate to tell you this, but no one wants you here.

THE BOY: What? [changes knee, ties other boot] I don’t understand what you’re saying.

THE PEDOPHILE: I mean no one asked you to be here. Doesn’t that bother you? Don’t you feel mad about that? I am so embarrassed for you. You make me sick. Your parents are criminals but I am willing to call you my own. Do you want to kiss me and sleep with me in the plastic toilet on the side of the road?

The pedophile gets down from the tree and grabs the rake. He tightens his grip. The boy runs back up the hill. Negotiating the onset of tears, the pedophile returns to the work of cleaning the tree. Taking down the skeletons. There are so many now, and he looks at them like he isn’t even sure he cares about doing it anymore, not at all sure.

THE PEDOPHILE: All I want to do is kiss someone.

[Next Day.]

The boy stands by the tree, looking around. From behind the tree, the pedophile speaks.

THE PEDOPHILE: [wavering, phlegmatic] I don’t know what is happening. I don’t.

THE BOY: What’s wrong. It seems like something is wrong with you. Please tell me. I can help you.

THE PEDOPHILE: It’s my face. My face feels numb. The numbness is traveling so deep. Like I would need to press my finger deep deep into my face to even feel it. I don’t know what is happening to my face. I need help.

THE BOY: How do you need help? [looks at black sphere and forgets what he is saying] What if your face never feels like anything again? Would you still want it? Would you still want it at all?

THE PEDOPHILE: Maybe [takes a few slow steps towards the boy] Maybe, but I don’t know. Maybe we should see if I still want this one. Maybe you should put your fingers on my face. Put your fingers on my face and press into it. Or you can let your tongue touch my tongue. We can put our mouths together. That would be nice too.

THE BOY: But what if I get the same way then? [touches own face] I like my face so much. It is so soft.

Semen drips from the pedophile’s mouth. His face droops and the muscles die off. He rubs lice off his head. Some of the scabs lift with it, bleeding down his face. He stands, dripping semen from his mouth, brow muscles hanging over his eyes.

THE PEDOPHILE: I know it’s soft. I want it [wipes mouth with hand] Give it to me you fucking faggot. I will make you stretched red and raw. Hurting. I will come in your body. And your muscles will droop too [semen is all over his neck, the collar of his shirt wet with it, and his face turns black, drooping] Stay here with me at the bottom of the hill. We can go into the woods and lie down on some wet leaves. I will clean you off with a leaf when I am done. When I am done things will be different. I will teach you about yourself. I am absolute hatred. Shake my hand and lie down with me — you are mine.

The boy makes a surprised look and jumps. He puts his hands on his head then on his ears then runs back up the hill. He trips towards the top but keeps running until he’s gone. The pedophile watches, pulling at his own face with his hands.

THE PEDOPHILE: I have nothing [letting hands go to his sides] Being ugly is comfortable.

He stands there into the night. Days pass, represented by slow black flashes. There is snow during some of the flashes. Snow accumulates around the pedophile’s feet. He stands completely still. Wind. Large white flies emerge from his mask and gravitate to the black sphere, become invisible.

THE PEDOPHILE: I love myself.

[Next Day.]

The branches are thick with skeletons, disregarded. And the rake is on the ground next to the tree, its prongs rusty and still somewhat capped with dust left from struck bones. The pedophile is not there.

[Days Later.]

The boy runs down the hill and stands by the tree. The pedophile is still gone. The boy looks around, quiet. He sits against the trunk, poking the snow and kicking it into piles. He gets up and unzips his pants, holds his shirt up with both hands. Then he pisses on the tree. The pedophile crawls out from the skeletons and then down the tree. No mask now. He sniffs the piss on the tree and drinks some that has pooled in a smashed can.

THE PEDOPHILE: [stretching, eyes closed] I smelled that you were here. You are the best. You are unbearable. I love you. The only reason I am glad to be alive is that you are alive too, at the same time [leans face into tree] You will appreciate your life when you understand that the people alive at the same time are yours by chance. Do you know that? I love you so much. When your piss is in my body I want to rip you in half [he puts the garbagebag mask on and holds up his hands] I am glad you are back. When I am alone I think that my soul is gone. I’m worried that I never had a soul. That is a huge worry of mine. No actually I’m worried that I’m stupid enough to have had any thoughts like that. [smiles] But not when I see your pretty face.

The boy kneels and spreads the snow out, humming to himself.

THE PEDOPHILE: Your face is beautiful and I am going to build a box around it so if I want to look in once in a while I can, but no one else can. I guess I have to lock the box around your head so no one else can look [puts both hands palms towards the back of the boy’s head] If I rust the lock it will be more difficult to open [puts palms towards sky] And for me that is good. I hope I am not scaring you at all. I just want to keep your head in a box so it can be only mine. [more flies burst and leave the eyeholes of his mask, disappear into the black sphere]

THE BOY: [turns around, still sitting] Don’t forget where you put the key.

THE PEDOPHILE: [ignoring] I want you to be in a little safe. Everyone has a little safe and they keep things in it. The things that you keep in your safe are different when other people look at them. But when only you look at them, they are perfect [motherly, close] What do you keep in it? Huh?