THE DRIVER: [quietly] This is the most successful day ever and I hope it never ends. Hey, you can sit in the front seat if you want [tapping seat] I feel lonely up here all by myself.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [looks at the seat, then the driver] I don’t want to sit in that seat, there’s, blood, all over it. And I just bought these pants.
THE DRIVER: [turns head slightly] Yeah those are really nice. I was going to say something but I thought you might feel weird about me confessing to looking at your legs and butt or whatever. Some guys are like that.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: Oh no. Not me. Attention from other humans is the only way to remember that I am alive. It is also the only way to hate being alive. Weird. I hope my grave is big enough to have people over.
THE DRIVER: Yeah? How many people? That sounds like fun.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: Everyone that ever existed and does exist.
They’re quiet for a while. They pass long curves of the forest preserve. There is no one out, but there is garbage on the forest floor and the road. The loud chopping sound continues through the window and when they climb a hill it synchs with the sun — in strobes — light and noise at the same time repeating. They stare silently. Rounding a tighter curve, a deer jumps out. The car collides with the deer. The deer’s body explodes, cracking the windshield fully. And it slides off the car when the car breaks, landing on the stick and leaf covered road. The chopping sound has ended. The deer convulses on the ground. It kneels on its front two legs, trying to stand. Blood shines both nose and face and it falls to its knees again — front leg broken horribly, front leg sideways and ashed with blacktop along the break.
THE DRIVER: [staring through the windshield with blood on his face] Some cars are made of steel and some are made of fur and bones. The ones that are made of steel will always win. Yeah.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: Definitely. I feel good when I watch something die. It makes me feel powerful. I guess I am a little hurt when I see it, but also very good. Too good. I’m not angry now anymore. I am a car made of steel and the earth only makes things out of fur and bone. And I made myself. Being a human is better than being the earth I think. I’m not even angry any more. I can’t remember what anger looks like. It is not in my head now anymore.
THE DRIVER: [wipes some blood off his face] Faces are the worst of human possessions.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: Yes but yours is so pretty [puts hand on the driver’s shoulder] It was made after the earth got a manicure.
The driver gives a thumbs-up sign into the rearview mirror.
THE DRIVER: Let’s check on our friend.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [undoing seatbelt] Friends make the world go round.
They get out of the car and look at the deer. The deer lies angled, its jaw missing and its front leg held only by skin. When the deer moves its broken leg only the top half moves, the other half remains on the road, heavy. And the two men watch the trees reflect off its open black eyes.
THE DRIVER: Much like your mother being in your mind, the trees are now only in the eyes of this dying animal. Very interesting. What does that mean? I am fucking confused about everything right now. Hold on. Wait — I’m good now, nevermind. I don’t care.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [turns to the driver] Should we cut its eyes open and make the trees free? Is that what you are saying? They need to be free. I love the earth. It is our mother [touches head, confused] Wait that means the world is in my mind [panicked] I will take care of the earth by thinking about it. Should we cut the deer’s eyes open and free the forest? I don’t know what to do now. I’m confused about everything now. I’m angry. Let’s cut the eyes open.
THE DRIVER: [still eyeing deer pile] No, let’s just watch it die. No one thing that is alive is important. Let’s just leave it alone. We’ll watch.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: You read my mind.
They look at the bloody road. They kick small stones, some sticking to the deer’s nose. The deer is quiet.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [staring at deer] Hey, would you mind if I use that ‘may I have this dance?’ line sometime?
THE DRIVER: If you properly cite it, then yes.
Silence. They stare up, above the forest. The deer wheezes. Keeps wheezing. They hear the muscles struggling in its throat but they do not look. Instead they stare up. There is no one out but there is garbage everywhere. Harsh clacks of coughing from the deer’s throat muscles. Then nothing. Both men laugh.
THE DRIVER: Well? Shall we?
They carry the deer into the forest and bring it to the nearest loop of a stream.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [putting hand on tree, stepping over shallow area of stream] If my shoes get wet I am going to lie down and not get up.
THE DRIVER: Then your back would be wet too.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [sneezes] It wouldn’t matter at that point.
THE DRIVER: There is nothing to be upset about without being selfish [setting his end of deer down] If your shoes get wet and you decide to lie down, I won’t tell anyone where you are. Alright?
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [kneeling by the deer with the driver] I would be scared lying down all by myself [puts hand into the area where the deer’s jaw was]
THE DRIVER: [reaching in too] The only way to feel comfortable on earth is to constantly try to prove to others that you are worthwhile. Otherwise there is no excuse for you to be here. No single thing is important.
They pull down on the wound and rip the body open. The man from the backseat works on taking the bones out while the driver washes them in the stream. In quiet they wash. When finished, they stack the bones by the stream and walk off, back towards the car.
THE DRIVER: When I breathe, my breath looks like fog. The breath goes into the fog and it becomes the sky. I don’t want to donate to the sky. I want everything to be mine and only mine. The bigger breath is above the sky.
He blows out and they both watch.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: Thanks for spending time with me today. Usually on the weekends I lie in bed for a long time after I wake up. And I watch the fibers floating in the air. I can see them when the sun comes into the window. I name them and think about their lives. I wonder if they ever land. Sometimes I try to watch one land. It’s impossible to see though. I don’t know, thanks for spending time with me. I don’t love you or anything, but I’m grateful. You make me smile.
THE DRIVER: Saying ‘I love you’ is the stupidest thing ever. It means nothing.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: I agree. It is painful to be visible.
They begin walking back. A raccoon climbs a short tree trunk across from them, huge black eyes pointed their way. The raccoon runs away, into a rotten tree. They stand still.
THE DRIVER: I see raccoons every night when I go for walks. They are always out. They always run away from me. I want to touch them. But they will never let me touch them [clears throat] they always run away. I don’t believe in souls. I believe in bones. And I believe that the earth is the biggest garbage dump there is. Some of the garbage can still move and some can’t move anymore. But there is no difference.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: [drumming on thighs] The garbage that can’t move teaches the garbage that still moves.
They see another raccoon. The driver walks slowly towards the raccoon. It runs away. They return to the car, walking slow and tapping their hands against the trees. The bloodstain on the street is already less bright, and a tire track extends through it, into the invisible distance.
THE DRIVER: The earth makes shitty merchandise. A car of steel will always kill a car of fur and bone. And a hand will always kill a smaller hand.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: And a knife will always kill a hand.