THE DRIVER: And a gun will always kill a knife.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: And a bomb will always kill a gun.
THE DRIVER: And a drop of water will always kill a bomb.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: And the sun will kill the water.
THE DRIVER: And time will kill the sun.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: And a human will always kill time.
THE DRIVER: And time will always kill a human.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: And complete disregard will kill a human.
THE DRIVER: And a car made of steel will always kill a car made of fur and bone.
THE MAN FROM THE BACKSEAT: And we will always smile unless we forget to clean our teeth [quiet, looking at bloodstain, then facing the driver] Uh [breathes heavily] I am feeling something like a bubble in my stomach [rocks back and forth] Fuck I might cry. My insides are yawning. I might cry. What is happening right now? This is bad [louder] Help me through this [then quiet] I’m so angry. The deer is in my head now, with my mom. And this bloodstain. They don’t all like each other. Everything is upsetting me [tearing-up] shit, now my face is sinking. There’s water coming out of me. Please don’t tell anyone about this. It feels good but it feels bad to let you see it [louder] I’m angry you are looking at me.
THE DRIVER: [hand on other man’s shoulder] Don’t worry. Your mom will pet the deer and love it. And they will sit on the bloodstain. Everything will be fine. Don’t be upset, let your face sink. Sinking and drowning are peaceful ways to die. There are as many ways to die as there are people. Get it? How it happens makes you who you are. It is happening to me now but I’m not letting it show [soft tone] If your face drowns, you will find peace. And I won’t tell anyone. Your mom will be nice to the deer and they will figure out life together, sitting on the bloodstain. Be fine now.
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 POLICEMAN IS A FORM OF PUNISHMENT
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.