Bream Gives Me Hiccups Read online

  SIDE EFFECTS: This medication causes severe erectile dysfunction. And beyond any concern for your tawdry sex life, your mother would like grandchildren at some point and, with your sister currently gay, you’re the last Mohican.

  IN CASE OF OVERDOSE: Stick your finger down your throat and stand over the toilet. And don’t just run into the kitchen and throw up in front of your mother like you “couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time.” Everyone knows that’s a bullshit ploy for sympathy. But it doesn’t work. It just makes her nauseous.

  BRAND NAME: Haldol

  GENERIC NAME: Haloperidol (HAL-oh-PER-i-dol)

  CLASS: Antipsychotic/Schizophrenia (Jesus Christ!)

  COMMON USE: Are you selling this on the street or something? How did you even get it? Did you tell your psychiatrist you hear voices or something? Well, hear this: If you want me to keep paying for your COBRA so you can pay this shrink, you need to get a job. How could you even trust a doctor like this? Who the hell is this guy? I told you to come home to New Jersey, don’t go to a shrink in the West Village. Your mother and I are right by the university. The doctors there are just fine and they’re half the price. You know, Howard asked me about you the other day and I accidentally told him you were taking this Haldol drug. It’s embarrassing to me. None of his kids take anything like this and Jenny’s dyslexic.

  SIDE EFFECTS: It’s probably too bad I was never prescribed these pick-me-ups when I was abusing my gay, schizophrenic children. I was probably too busy heaving alarm clocks at your head to indulge in a hoity-toity, West Village, $350-a-minute shoulder to cry on! And I turned out terribly, didn’t I?! Becoming the youngest partner at my firm! Buying a six-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath in Fort Lee! Twenty-six years married to the same woman and three Carnival Cruises together! Yeah, I’m a really awful person.

  IN CASE OF OVERDOSE: Don’t tell your mother.

  MY NEPHEW HAS SOME QUESTIONS

  ME: I need you to buckle up back there, buddy.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: I just do.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I care about you.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because you’re my sister’s son. And I care about her.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I just do.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because, I guess, when I was born, she was three years old, and like any younger sibling I put her on a pedestal.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: I probably idealized her, which is strange considering your mom was not very nice to me.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: She was an only child and when I came along she was forced to share everything.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: We both had needs and I think it was difficult for our parents to satisfy us both.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because needs are so ephemeral. I think it was Maslow who said, “It’s a rare and difficult psychological achievement to know what we want.”

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because he was writing at a time when social psychology was bending toward humanism and self-actualization.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because there was this trend in post-Freudian behavior study that was vastly underexamined in Western psychology.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because the world was still sorting everything out. Well, not the whole world. The East, in its way, had already found answers.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because their societies were more fixed.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Probably because of the Mongols. They unified these huge swaths of cultures by force.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: I guess they thought that amassing land was important.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because it was the most explicit form of achievement. Today, we value amassing currency.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because it’s easier than invading a country. But in some ways it could be just as dangerous—if not more.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because there’s a finite amount of land. But currency expands exponentially.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Partly due to the nature of economy, but also because of some ill-conceived relationships between the developing world and economic organizations—the World Bank, the IMF. Look at Zimbabwe.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because it’s a good example of how inflation can ravage a country. People were literally taking wheelbarrows of cash to buy a loaf of bread.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because there was a power-hungry dictator promoting failed land reform policies.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because for so long it had been a white colony—Rhodesia—with generations of horrible disenfranchisement.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because there was a scramble for power. (Which goes back to what we were saying about the Mongols.)

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: It’s the nature of man. And, I guess, in some ways, I’m a victim of this unquenchable thirst for money.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Well, it’s easy to blame the “system”—capitalism, pioneer culture in the United States, what Chomsky called “economic fascism”—but it’s probably my own fault.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I had opportunities to take a different path, but for some reason, I felt compelled to chase the elusive dollar. You know, I actually wanted to be a philosophy major.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: It’s totally corny, but as a teenager I loved Immanuel Kant.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: No one’s ever asked me that before, little guy. But I guess I loved how simple he made everything.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because Kant gave concrete answers to complicated problems and that was comforting.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I had tons of questions about morality and ethics.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: You know, I haven’t talked about this in years, but I spent some time in a juvenile detention center when I was twelve.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because they accused me of breaking into school in the middle of the night and setting one of the classrooms on fire.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because my parents reported me missing that night and the classroom that was set on fire was my math classroom. And it was the night after a big math test. So I seemed like the obvious suspect.

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because everything pointed to me. But I didn’t do it!

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I didn’t care if I failed that test!

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because it’s not like if I got a bad grade on that math test, then I wouldn’t get into a good college and wouldn’t get a good job and I would die penniless and starving!

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Okay! I did it! I burned down that classroom!

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I was panicked. And I was twelve! I made a mistake!

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I’m human! I’m fallible! I just wanted to be loved!

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because we live in this crazy world where we have to fight for every scrap, and I’m constantly scared that if I slow down, the world is just gonna pass me by. Everything moves so quickly, so chaotically, so uncaringly fast, threatening at all times to mow us down or overtake us. And so I speed up too! I join the rat race! I know it’s unhealthy, I know it’s wrong, but I can’t slow down! It’s why I burned down that school! It’s why I blame everything on the Mongols and the World Bank and the IMF and Robert Mugabe and Cecil Rhodes and Immanuel Kant and Freud and Maslow and Chomsky and your mother! But it’s me. It’s just me! That’s why I wanted you to strap in! I wanted you to strap in because I don’t trust myself to slo
w down enough to avoid an accident. The “seat belt” is just a frail bandage on my reckless life!

  MY NEPHEW: Why?

  ME: Because I’m damaged. I’m in pain! And I’m not gonna get better. Not without real help. So can you strap in? Just for now?

  MY NEPHEW: Okay.

  ME: Thanks, little buddy. Thanks a lot.

  III.

  HISTORY

  MEN AND DANCING

  NATIVE AMERICAN WOMAN: Your people are starving! There has been no rain! The crops cannot grow!

  NATIVE AMERICAN MAN: The rain gods have ignored all my pleas.

  WOMAN: It’s because you are not appealing to the gods in the right way.

  MAN: I was going to sacrifice another sheep but you get skittish around blood.

  WOMAN: We don’t need another dead sheep, the only solution to our famine is the sacred rain dance.

  MAN: The only solution?

  WOMAN: Yes, you must do a rain dance or we’ll all starve to death.

  MAN: Okay, I’ll just go into the woods and do the dance.

  WOMAN: No, in order to appeal to the rain gods, you must dance in front of the whole tribe, while we point and laugh at you, as is our native custom.

  MAN: You know who’s actually a really good dancer? Two Dogs Prancing Unselfconsciously Across New Horizon. Two Dogs could probably do a great rain dance.

  WOMAN: No, it must be you.

  MAN: And what about bear meat? I can go hunt some more bears.

  WOMAN: We have enough bear meat for ten moon cycles. What we need is rain!

  MAN: And I hear that. I totally hear you. Listen: You wait here. I’m just going to go to the forest, make sure there aren’t any other bears, check in with Two Dogs, and I’ll be right back to do the dancing thing.

  KING’S AIDE: The king requests a performance.

  JESTER: Great. What’s he looking for this time? I could do my bit about the moat.

  KING’S AIDE: No, the king would like to see a dance.

  JESTER: Are you sure? He loves moat jokes. You know: What do you call a moat in winter? Useless. Get it?

  KING’S AIDE: Yeah, ’cause it’s frozen.

  JESTER: Or: How many alligators does it take to stop an invading Hun? Thirty-one. One to kill the Hun and another thirty to get rid of the stench.

  KING’S AIDE: Right, because Huns smell bad. I get it. But that’s not gonna work this time. The king demands a dance.

  JESTER: And what happens if I don’t do the dance?

  KING’S AIDE: If you don’t dance, His Highness has requested that your body be slowly torn apart for his amusement.

  JESTER: I see.

  KING’S AIDE: Yes, it would be a slow but hilarious death.

  JESTER: Right . . . Maybe I’ll open with the moat bit.

  PROTESTOR 1: Hey, brother, you ready for the big protest?

  PROTESTOR 2: Absolutely! What’s the plan?

  PROTESTOR 1: We’re all gonna take LSD and protest the Vietnam War on the Washington Mall.

  PROTESTOR 2: Great! Finally those bastards in Washington will learn that the way we’re imposing our hegemonic capitalist ideology on this poor Asian country is reprehensible.

  PROTESTOR 1: Exactly! So just pop some LSD under that tongue so we can get to dancing.

  PROTESTOR 2: Excuse me?

  PROTESTOR 1: You’re not scared of a little LSD, are you?

  PROTESTOR 2: No! Not at all. I’m totally good with LSD. But did you say dancing?

  PROTESTOR 1: Yeah. That’s our protest. Just let our bodies loose on the Washington Mall, flailing them around freely in opposition to the war.

  PROTESTOR 2: Oh. That sounds fun, really. But, just to play devil’s advocate, do you really feel we’ve exhausted all of our options? Have you considered making signs?

  PROTESTOR 1: None of that stuff works! What we need to send a message to those hawks in DC is some good old-fashioned, unselfconscious dancing.

  PROTESTOR 2: Right, sure. But have you considered all sides of the war? I mean it’s not so clean-cut. Aren’t you worried about the domino effect?

  PROTESTOR 1: The domino effect?

  PROTESTOR 2: Yeah. Say we get out of Vietnam, everyone goes home, a tiny country turns communist, no big deal. But then Laos goes communist, then Indonesia and China, and suddenly Karl Marx is knocking on your door, handing you a red book and asking you to work in his shoe factory.

  QUARTERBACK: Great catch, rookie! Your first touchdown! Now do your thing!

  WIDE RECEIVER: My thing? What do you mean?

  QUARTERBACK: Your dance.

  WIDE RECEIVER: Oh . . . I don’t do that.

  QUARTERBACK: When you score a touchdown, you have to do a dance.

  TIGHT END: Yeah, we all do it.

  RUNNING BACK: I rehearsed mine this morning just in case I got a touchdown.

  WIDE RECEIVER: You rehearsed?

  RUNNING BACK: Of course. All of our dances have complicated moves.

  TIGHT END: And even though they’re different dances, what unifies them is our complete lack of self-consciousness.

  WIDE RECEIVER: I guess I always thought it was optional.

  RUNNING BACK: No, it’s mandatory. Especially because this game is nationally televised.

  TIGHT END: Right, so all the girls from your high school are watching.

  RUNNING BACK: Yes, and Seth Neddermeyer, who bullied you before your growth spurt. He’s going to watch you dance too.

  WIDE RECEIVER: Maybe I could just spike the ball or something.

  OFFENSIVE LINEMAN: I just dislocated my shoulder for you! Do your dance!

  WIDE RECEIVER: Can I do a moonwalk? Are people still doing the moonwalk?

  QUARTERBACK: No, you have to do an original dance.

  WIDE RECEIVER: You know, I think my foot may have been on the line. I think I may have stepped out near the twenty. Maybe we should check the replay.

  FINAL CONVERSATIONS AT POMPEII

  MISTRESS: Stop! Get off me!

  MAN: What’s wrong?

  MISTRESS: I can’t keep doing this!

  MAN: This always happens just as you’re about to have a feeling.

  MISTRESS: It just feels so dirty. Meeting here every week.

  MAN: Dirty?! This is one of the nicest villas in Vesuvius’s shadow!

  MISTRESS: And I keep having this fear that someone is going to find out about us.

  MAN: What are you talking about? This place is half empty. You know all the Samnites go to the Sarno this time of year.

  MISTRESS: You would never take me to the Sarno.

  MAN: You live in a different hamlet! It’s a six-day walk not including stops for cattle castration!

  MISTRESS: But you would take your wife there.

  MAN: Don’t make this about Debbie.

  MISTRESS: You said you would tell her about me.

  MAN: And I will! It’s just not the right time.

  MISTRESS: So when is the right time? Six months from now? A year?!

  MAN: Can’t we just enjoy each other? We have such little time together.

  MISTRESS: How can I enjoy myself when she could walk in on us at any minute?

  MAN: Relax. We are totally alone. In a thousand years, no one would ever walk in here.

  ARTIST: I’ve been stuck in a rut.

  MUSE: What are you talking about? You’re at the top of your game.

  ARTIST: I haven’t been able to do anything in months.

  MUSE: You just did that great fresco with the cattle and the phallus. Everyone loved that.

  ARTIST: No one even saw it. At this rate, I couldn’t even get a gallery show in Umbria.

  MUSE: Are you jealous of Augusto?

  ARTIST: This is not about Augusto. This is about me and my inertia.

  MUSE: Don’t forget how much everyone loved your grape sculpture.

  ARTIST: That was like three years ago.

  MUSE: But it was ahead of its time! Who else would’ve thought to use lamb’s brain for texture?

  ARTIST: (scof
fs) Certainly not Augusto.

  MUSE: That’s right! You’re a pioneer!

  ARTIST: Augusto probably would’ve used eunuch’s liver.

  MUSE: So obvious.

  ARTIST: Or calf’s ear.

  MUSE: So passé.

  ARTIST: I feel like I was born in the wrong millennium. I feel like people can’t appreciate me now.

  MUSE: That’s what I’ve been saying! You’re a progressive reformationist stuck in the counter-reformation.

  ARTIST: My stuff is too radical for the counter-reformation!

  MUSE: In a thousand years, this place will be a museum.

  ARTIST: You really think so?

  MUSE: Absolutely. People will come from all over just to see your work. They’ll cross land bridges! They’ll seize ships at Aden just to see those lamb’s brain grapes. You’ll make Pompeii famous.

  ARTIST: And Augusto will still be working downtown Nuceria!

  MUSE: Exactly! But don’t make this about Augusto.

  PRISONER 1: Hey, man, wake up. We’re bustin’ outta here.

  PRISONER 2: What?

  PRISONER 1: Warden’s kid got the plague. Coast is clear. Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ cold feet.

  PRISONER 2: I’m actually thinkin’ I might stay.

  PRISONER 1: You wanna stay in prison?

  PRISONER 2: We only got three months left anyway. We should just pay our debt to society; I mean, we really shouldn’t have tipped over those goats.

  PRISONER 1: You sayin’ you like it here?

  PRISONER 2: I kind of do. I’ve met some nice people and I have a good job in the prison library, looking after the books.

  PRISONER 1: Well, I’m gettin’ outta here. Tonight!

  PRISONER 2: But you’ll spend the rest of your life in Pompeii looking over your shoulder.

  PRISONER 1: No, I’m bouncin’ outta Pompeii altogether.

  PRISONER 2: You’re gonna leave Pompeii?

  PRISONER 1: I’m sick of it here. I have dreams, man. I wanna travel up the coast, fall in love with a Babylonian woman, and then stone her to death when she menstruates.