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

that’s your problem! There are repercussions.

BISHOP: I’M SORRY! ALL RIGHT! I’M SORRY! BUT IT’S DONE! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT NOW!!

PHYLLIS (Deadpan): Well, stop eating her for one thing.

BISHOP: I hate you.

PHYLLIS: Help me shut this—

HOWARD (Offstage): I’m home!

PHYLLIS: Don’t speak.

BISHOP: I’m not afraid of him.

PHYLLIS: Let me handle this. (Hiding “the leg” in the sofa) I’ll stall him. We’ll leave tonight.

BISHOP: Yeah yeah yeah.

PHYLLIS: Please.

(She sits on her suitcase. Howard enters.)

HOWARD: How is everyone?

PHYLLIS: Oh fine. Fine, fine, thank you.

HOWARD: And the shoes?

PHYLLIS: Oh, they’re happy shoes.

HOWARD: Why the suitcase.

PHYLLIS: What suitcase?

HOWARD: That one.

PHYLLIS: Oh, this?

HOWARD: Planning a trip?

PHYLLIS: Redecorating. Like it?

HOWARD: Did you learn anything in school today, son?

BISHOP: I don’t go to school, you moron.

HOWARD: I don’t think you should call me a moron, Bishop. I think it’s disrespectful. How can we be a family—

BISHOP: I don’t go to school, you dipshit.

HOWARD: What’s wrong with him?

PHYLLIS (Shrugging): Kids today?

BISHOP: Christ.

PHYLLIS: I feel all in. Time for bed!

HOWARD: Where’s Pam?

PHYLLIS: I’m pooped. Did we spring forward or fall back or something?

HOWARD: Where is Pam?

PHYLLIS: Who?

HOWARD: Pam.

PHYLLIS (Relocating onto the sofa in order to hide “the leg”): I don’t know anyone named Pam. Do you know a Pam, Bishop?

BISHOP: You bet.

PHYLLIS: I don’t know who you mean.

HOWARD: Pam. Pamela. The maid.

PHYLLIS: Oh. Pam.

HOWARD: Where is she?

PHYLLIS: Out. Pam went out.

HOWARD: Out where?

PHYLLIS: Howard, I know I’ve been nutty and you’ve been unfaithful, but I feel all better now and I’d like to start over. Could we renew our vows?

HOWARD: Out where? Where’d she go?

PHYLLIS: Nevada. She went to Nevada.

HOWARD: What?

PHYLLIS: Yes. She wanted to play blackjack.

HOWARD: Pam!

PHYLLIS: She’s gone. She wanted to play Big Six.

HOWARD: God.

PHYLLIS: She wanted to see Siegfried and Roy.

HOWARD: Bishop!

BISHOP: What?

HOWARD: Where’s Pam?

(Bishop belches.)

PHYLLIS: She wanted to see Elvis impersonators.

BISHOP: How the fuck should I know?

PHYLLIS: She left you to become Barry Manilow’s maid.

HOWARD (Losing his patience): What are you talking about!

PHYLLIS: Barry Manilow. I love him. He writes the songs.

BISHOP: Ignore her.

PHYLLIS: It’s hard to find loyal help.

(Bishop reaches into the sofa and pulls out a handful of “Pam.”.)

HOWARD (Disgusted): What is that?

PHYLLIS (Rising): Let’s remember happier times.

BISHOP: Dinner. You want?

PHYLLIS: Fresh air and sunshine. When Betty, and Bud and Kitten were kids. Why, I remember once—oh, no, that’s not us. That’s Father Knows Best. Damn.

HOWARD (Looks closer): What is that?!

BISHOP (Revealing the leg): What’s it look like?

HOWARD: MY GOD!

PHYLLIS: Anyone for Yahtzee?

BISHOP: She’s good but she’s dry.

HOWARD: What happened here?!

PHYLLIS: Not to change the subject. But.

HOWARD (Revolted): What the hell is that?

BISHOP (Mock gee-whiz): Well, gosh Dad. I know it’s the first time I brought a girl home, but I think it’s love—I’d like ya ta meet Pam.

HOWARD (Reaching out): Pam.

BISHOP: I knew ya’d like her.

HOWARD: Oh my God. Pam. (Running off) Pam! Pam!

BISHOP: If you want a leg there’s more in the fridge.

HOWARD (Returning): What are you?

BISHOP (Yanking the leg): Starved!

HOWARD: You did this!

BISHOP: That’s right.

HOWARD: I’ll kill you!

PHYLLIS: Bishop, go to your room.

BISHOP: Drop dead.

HOWARD (Lunging at Bishop): I’LL KILL YOU!

BISHOP (Pulling a knife): I don’t think so.

HOWARD: Try it! Try it, you little bastard!

PHYLLIS: I wouldn’t taunt him dear. He’s high-strung.

HOWARD: You’re sick! You’re insane!

PHYLLIS: Don’t do it Bishop! I don’t even like his shoes.

HOWARD: You’re evil.

PHYLLIS: They’re too clunky. I’d feel all masculine.

BISHOP: Shut up!

PHYLLIS: Howard, talk to your son. He shouldn’t tell me to shut up.

HOWARD: Kill me! Kill me now, or I’ll kill you!

PHYLLIS: I just said you should “talk” to him.

BISHOP: You never cared about me!

PHYLLIS: He has a point.

HOWARD: You killed someone—someone I cared about, cared for, someone I loved!!

BISHOP: I could never please you!

PHYLLIS (Momentarily affected by what she’s heard): You loved her Howard?

HOWARD: Yes!

BISHOP: You see!

PHYLLIS: I knew, but I hoped—

HOWARD: I loved her!

PHYLLIS: Oh kill him, Bishop.

HOWARD: Phyllis!

PHYLLIS: Go ahead. You have Mother’s permission.

HOWARD: What are you talking about?

PHYLLIS (Going to Bishop, cheerily): We’re freaks and we belong together.

HOWARD: I’m calling the police.

PHYLLIS (To Bishop): Get him.

(Bishop lunges at Howard. There is a struggle.)

Men being men.

HOWARD (Straddled by Bishop): Get off me! WHAT ARE YOU?

BISHOP: I could kill you like that and eat you for breakfast!

HOWARD: Please. You’re sick. You should be in a hospital—

BISHOP: You just want to send me away! You’re sorry I came back!

HOWARD: That’s not true—I want to help you, I’ll help you!

BISHOP: Lying mother motherfucker!

PHYLLIS: Name-calling is a dirty business.

HOWARD: You’re my son. You need help!

PHYLLIS: Someone’s changed his tune.

BISHOP: You don’t get rid of me! I get rid of you! WATCH!

HOWARD: Phyllis!

PHYLLIS: Yes dear?

HOWARD: Help me! Stop him—call the police!

BISHOP: YOU CAN’T GET RID OF ME! I’M YOUR CHILD!

HOWARD: CALL THEM!!

PHYLLIS (After a moment of internal debate): No.

BISHOP: YOU NEVER LIKED ME! YOU NEVER WANTED ME!

HOWARD: CALL THEM!

PHYLLIS: I feel . . . inert.

HOWARD: Please Phyllis! I love you!

PHYLLIS: Oh Howard. You love her, you love him, you love me. You just love everyone when there’s a knife at your throat.

HOWARD: HELP ME!!!

PHYLLIS (Bored): Would you like a glass of water?

HOWARD: Dear God oh God oh God—

BISHOP: You should have killed me, you asshole! You should have killed me years ago! When you had the chance, when I was little—you didn’t want me then—you don’t want me now—and it’s not MY FAULT! IT’S YOURS! BUT YOU COULDN’T! YOU’RE TOO SCREWED UP! YOU’RE TOO FUCKED UP—WHAT’S RIGHT AND WHAT’S MORAL AND YOU DIDN’T HAVE THE GUTS! BUT I’M NOT YOU! I CAN DO IT! I CAN KILL THINGS! I CAN KILL YOU!! AND IT FEELS TERRIFIC! IT FEELS LIKE RUNNING AND RUNNING AND GUNSHOTS IN MY HEAD! AND THERE ARE BIRDS IN THE SKY, JUST LIKE YOU AND I CAN CATCH THEM AND PULL THEM DOWN! AND IT’S BETTER THAN FUCKING! WATCH! JUST WATCH! JUST WATCH!!!

(He cuts Howard’s throat. There is a long pause. Bishop collapses. Phyllis looks at him. Then at us. Then at Howard. Then at us again.)

PHYLLIS: Well . . . that was cleansing.

BISHOP: Uh-huh.

PHYLLIS: I feel good.

BISHOP (At Howard): What a drip.

PHYLLIS: You know, dear, I don’t mean to