Etiquette and Vitriol by Nicky Silver (classic fiction .txt) 📗

afraid of me, brilliant motherfuckers. My body is a weapon. And my stomach feels good against my hands. And my face and my legs and my dick are made of concrete. And I can run faster than the monkeys and I can catch the fish with my metal hands. And there are wild dogs with open sores and monkeys fucking all around us in the night. I watch ’em. And they hump each other like crazy wild animals, screaming, crying, making fucking monkey sounds and twisting like epileptics tied up with rope. And I watch ’em. And they pound each other, hard, like parents. And I watch ’em. And they foam at the mouth and their eyes roll back in their heads. And I watch ’em and I pull my stone dick with my metal hands. And their ape arms flail away like insects in water. And I hold my breath so they don’t hear me. And I stay in the dark so they don’t see me. And they cry like fucking monkey bastards, shrill shrieking “fire” and “help” in monkey tongues. And I pull harder my concrete joint with my man-made hands and they don’t even know I’m there! AND I SHOOT MY SHIT INTO THE AIR AND I SCREAM, “YAAHHHHH!! YAHHHHH! YAHHHH!” AND THE DUMB FUCKING MONKEY BASTARDS DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK’S GOING ON! AND THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I AM! AND THEY SCREAM BACK STUPID FUCKING MONKEY SOUNDS AND RUN AND I LAY BACK AND LAUGH. THE STUPID FUCKING MONKEY BASTARDS!!

(Phyllis and Howard enter. Bishop’s rage is echoed by Phyllis.)

PHYLLIS: HOWARD!

HOWARD: Phyllis?

BISHOP (Now referring to Phyllis and Howard): Stupid fucking bastards!

PHYLLIS: There’s someone else, isn’t there?

HOWARD: No.

BISHOP: Liars!

PHYLLIS: Don’t lie to me!

HOWARD: All right.

PHYLLIS: There is, isn’t there?

HOWARD (Out): I don’t want to hurt her.

PHYLLIS: I hate dishonesty.

HOWARD (Out): I hate scenes.

PHYLLIS: I hate lies!

HOWARD: I hate confrontations.

PHYLLIS: I hate my life.

HOWARD: I love you.

PHYLLIS: Do you? Do you really?

HOWARD: You mean right now? Right at this moment in time?

PHYLLIS: Yes!

HOWARD (Going to her): Phyllis—

PHYLLIS (Breaking away): Don’t touch me!

HOWARD: We have to talk.

PHYLLIS: I DON’T WANT TO TALK! What do you want Howard? Do you have the vaguest idea!? You didn’t want me stupid, and you don’t want me smart! Well tell me what you do want! Tell me what new permutation you want this year! I can do it Howard! I can make myself again and again and again! Only be careful, because I will!

HOWARD: What are you talking about?

PHYLLIS: Do you even remember what I was? Do you? When you thought you wanted someone nice? When I was nice! Because I was!

HOWARD: No. I don’t remember that at all.

PHYLLIS: Do you want me to be hurt? Do you want me to retaliate?

HOWARD: I want you to be happy!

PHYLLIS: WHO IS IT!!

HOWARD: It’s no one.

PHYLLIS: No one in particular? You mean it’s many?

HOWARD: Let’s go away.

PHYLLIS: For what?

HOWARD: Try again.

PHYLLIS (Arch): The irony is, I think I stopped loving you a long time ago. But I didn’t notice. And I was faithful because I was busy. And I never noticed how little I cared.

HOWARD: People make mistakes.

PHYLLIS: They certainly do.

HOWARD: I’m sorry.

PHYLLIS: Contrition becomes you.

HOWARD: I have to go to Italy.

PHYLLIS: Enjoy the pasta.

HOWARD: Join me?

PHYLLIS: I gain weight in Italy.

HOWARD: Come with me.

PHYLLIS: Why?

HOWARD: We could be happy.

PHYLLIS: What about Bishop?

HOWARD: Leave him.

(Bishop’s head turns at this.)

It’ll just be us.

PHYLLIS: No.

HOWARD: Think about it. I have to go. Join me next week, please.

PHYLLIS: I’ve been very stupid Howard.

HOWARD: Think about it.

(Phyllis crosses and sits by Bishop. Howard addresses the audience.)

They called me in Italy to tell me the plane went down. I was relieved. And sorry. And sad and happy and guilty. I can’t remember Bishop’s voice anymore. When I close my eyes, I can see his face. But I can’t make his voice in my head. (Pam crosses the stage.)

PAM: It’s five years, Howard.

HOWARD: What?

PAM: They’re dead.

HOWARD: I suppose.

PAM: Howard?

HOWARD: Yes?

PAM: I’m pregnant.

(Pam is gone. Howard exits. Lights come up on Bishop and Phyllis. She reaches spastically for the sky. She seems shell-shocked; he in control.)

PHYLLIS: The sky.

BISHOP: What?

PHYLLIS: The sky. The sky—is—very blue.

BISHOP: Yeah so and.

PHYLLIS: Blue and bottomless.

BISHOP: It’s up.

PHYLLIS: What?

BISHOP: It’s up, asshole.

PHYLLIS: What is?

BISHOP: The sky is up, fucking dusthead.

PHYLLIS: Oh.

BISHOP: So, of course it’s bottomless.

PHYLLIS: Oh?

BISHOP: If it had an end, it would be a top.

PHYLLIS: Oh.

BISHOP: Not a bottom.

PHYLLIS: Of course.

BISHOP (He starts doing push-ups): Fucking dusthead.

PHYLLIS: Of course. What are you doing?

BISHOP: Push-ups, crudbrain.

PHYLLIS: Oh.

BISHOP: What’s it look like?

PHYLLIS: It looks like push-ups. Days. Years. Push-ups. You do push-ups. A sit-up would kill you. A squat-thrust would be too much—

BISHOP: Look at my body! My body is a fucking building! A cocksucking tower. My body is the fucking fabulous French Eiffel Tower!

PHYLLIS: It’s very nice.

BISHOP: It’s the ass-kicking pyramids.

PHYLLIS: What day is it?

BISHOP: Monday.

PHYLLIS: It was Monday yesterday.

BISHOP: It was fucking Sunday yesterday. Fucking dusthead.

PHYLLIS: No, no—I asked you what day it was yesterday and you said it was Monday.

BISHOP: Fuck you.

PHYLLIS: Didn’t you?

BISHOP: It was Sunday so I said it was Sunday.

PHYLLIS: You always say it’s Monday.

BISHOP: Crumbhead.

PHYLLIS: Maybe I only ask once a week.

BISHOP: Lintbrain.

PHYLLIS: Time flies.

BISHOP: Crudhead.

PHYLLIS: See that cloud?

BISHOP: Sandhead.

PHYLLIS: It looks like her.

BISHOP: Like who, trashhead?

PHYLLIS: Like her. Like Katharine Hepburn.

BISHOP: Garbagenoodle.

PHYLLIS: She looks beautiful. She looks young. I feel frumpish.

BISHOP: Christ.

PHYLLIS: I’m tired.

BISHOP: I’m hungry.

PHYLLIS: I want to sleep.

BISHOP: Cook something.

PHYLLIS: I’m sleepy.

BISHOP: Cook, slophead!

PHYLLIS: No.

BISHOP: Don’t “no” me!!

PHYLLIS: Bishop!

BISHOP: Don’t answer me!!

PHYLLIS: I’m sorry.

BISHOP: Muckbrain.

PHYLLIS: Bishop?

BISHOP: What is it?

PHYLLIS: No one is coming.

BISHOP: Shut up.

PHYLLIS (After a moment): Could you kill me?

BISHOP: I could.

PHYLLIS: Then do.

BISHOP: Shut up.

PHYLLIS: I do not want to go on. I just don’t think I want to.

BISHOP: Turdhead.

PHYLLIS: Monday after Monday. After Monday.

BISHOP: Then it’s Tuesday. If you want a Tuesday, it’s fucking Tuesday. Are you happy? I make it Tuesday.

PHYLLIS: I want someone else.

BISHOP: If I say it’s fucking Tuesday. It is.

PHYLLIS: My voice sounds very strange to me. It’s