—I WROTE A HUNDRED PAGES BUT I BURNED THEM ALL

 

 

Why I Hate Rocks

 

 

--So, you were nine then?

     --About that, yeah.

--One brother in prison, one in ‘Nam?

     --Yes.

--What year did your parents decide to become nudists?

     --When I was 13, whatever year that was.

--Puberty? Interesting. 

     --Nothing’s interesting anymore.

--And the garage burning down, that was a seminal moment? 

     --What’s it matter? Every year was torched back then.

--No playing the victim here, remember?

     --I was just a witness, scarecrow in a field.

--Ah, yes. Nice analogy. Okay, so what about Pepper, having his voice box taken out? You said his bark sounded like muffled agony.

      --He was a witness, too, but a dog that could no longer testify.

--Did you really try to burn your own home down?

     --It wasn’t a home. It was a trailer.

--Okay, sure, semantics, but did you?

     --Yes, a thousand times in my mind, but no, not really. No.

--Your friend, PR, who bashed in all those car windshields with a crowbar

     --He wasn’t my friend. I didn’t have any. Or one.

--But—

     --Are we almost done?

--I ask the questions.

      --Sure, sure.

--Okay, so you stole things.

     --Yes.

--Squirt guns from a place called 2 Swabbies?

     --Yes.

--And you kept the donations for the March of Dimes Walkathon rather than handing them over?

     --Yes.

--Your father’s Playboy’s?

     --Yes.

--Corn from the very people who employed you in summertime?

     --Yes.

--Nude Polaroids of your mother after her breast augmentation?

      --No, I burned those in the sink of the camper.

--Isn’t that still stealing?

     --I think it’s called burning. You light a match, things tend to turn into fire.

--We can get to that another time.

     --There is no other time.

--You forget that I’m—

     --The one who holds the keys. 

--Okay, let’s get back on track. Let me see. Oh, yes, so, incest, was it—

      --I won’t to talk about that ever.

--But you do understand why you’re here, right?

      --I acted out.

--That’s an interesting way of putting it.

      --Put it wherever you want.

--Okay, so did your father hit your mother often?

      --No, she hit him.

--What?

     --You heard me.

--That’s extraordinary.

     --That’s one way of putting it.

--And she beat you and your siblings?

     --That was just him doing Mom’s bidding, but not me so much. I just watched it all happen.

--What about rocks?

      --What about them?

--The ones you had to collect in a pail and then kneel on for an hour?

     --They hurt. They hurt bad.

--Do you still feel them sometime?

     --No.

--Come on now.

     --I hate rocks.

--Of course you do.

     --You don’t know me.

--I might know you better than you think.

     --I stopped thinking when I turned nine.

 --That’s called ACB. Avoidance Cluster Behavior.

     --Call it whatever you fucking want.

 --Are you angry?

     --No, I’m dead.

--Ah, levity. Touché.

     --Nothing’s funny.

--Oh well, let’s see. Yes, last one. Did you father and brother really rape your sister?

      --We all did.

--Excuse me?

     --We were all there.

--But still—

      --I said, We were all there.

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