House of Many Tongues by Jonathan Garfinkel Read Free Book Online Page B

up the gun.
    Put that down.
    Shimon: Read to me.
    Abu Dalo: No.
    Shimon: I want to know what you’re writing.
    Abu Dalo: “The General was afraid of the enemy. But he was more afraid of not having an enemy. Because if he started to see the enemy as human then he’d have to put down the gun, and without the gun he’d have to look at his miserable self.”
    Shimon: I brought you coffee. I offered your daughter a place to live.
    Abu Dalo: Peace is not a fucking cup of coffee.
    Shimon: You’re writing lies.
    Abu Dalo: No, I’m not writing lies. In fact, I’m avoiding the lies.
    Shimon: (a beat) You’re writing your story.
    ABU DALO stops typing.
    Abu Dalo: You know, we could finally start to talk about peace if you actually acknowledged that I even have a story, that my family’s story in this house is possibly worth writing, that people might want to read it.
    Shimon: Are you going to publish this book?
    ABU DALO resumes typing.
    Abu Dalo: I’m a writer. What do you think I’m going to do?
    Shimon: I negotiated with you. I let you stay here. I didn’t have to.
    Abu Dalo: You were going to shoot me last week when I knocked on the door. You’re pointing a gun at me right now.
    Shimon: I wish I’d shot you last week. I wish I’d taken care of this problem right then. Read to me!
    Abu Dalo: Why don’t you just shoot me right now?
    SHIMON puts down the gun.
    Shimon: That would be too easy .
    Abu Dalo: No, just shoot me. Come on, shoot me.
    I’ve had enough of this problem. Enough of being the problem. I’ve had enough of this world full of problems.
    Shoot me in the fucking eye!
    Shimon: No.
    Abu Dalo: Shoot me or I’ll shoot myself.
    ABU DALO struggles with SHIMON for the gun. ABU DALO grabs it.
    Fuck this book. Fuck this house. Fuck these four walls. Fuck my wife fuck my daughter fuck the bathroom fuck the fig tree fuck my great-grandfather. Fuck and fuck and fuck!
    Shimon: Abu Dalo, be reasonable—
    Abu Dalo: I tried to be reasonable. I tried to be good. But you just took advantage of me. I turned in my own cousin. An entire apartment block in Gaza went down because of me. Five years I worked for you Israelis, for your Shabak. Enough.
    When I blast this bullet through the back of my head and my brain splatters like guacamole, I hope the bullet travels to the other side through my eyes and nails you. When we’re both dead, then there’ll be no problem.
    Shimon: Put down the gun. You’re being irrational.
    Abu Dalo: My wife is dead. This is a perfectly rational response. So please. Fuck off. And good riddance.
    ABU DALO cocks the gun and aims it at the back of his head. He shoots. Nothing happens. Again. And again. And again. And again.
    Have you been pointing an empty gun at me?
    Shimon: Yes.
    Abu Dalo: Why would you do that?
    Shimon: Sometimes the gun is enough.
    Abu Dalo: You inconsiderate asshole.
    Shimon: Abu Dalo, you’re right. I do pity you. I pity your desperation. I pity your sadness. I pity your need to self-destruct.
    Abu Dalo: What do you want from me?
    Shimon: Read me what you wrote. Now.

Scene 4
    THE CAMEL is now in Paris, smoking a cigarette and drinking café au lait.
    The Camel: Well friends, I’m a sneaky camel. I’ve done it. I made it to Paris.
    I’m sure the house understands: I just needed to get away.
    I get to enjoy my coffee in peace. Anonymity in a tragic and great city. The Seine at night. A little jazz. The fine derrière of a French woman. (A waitress with a beautiful derrière walks by.)
    It occurs to me. Maybe one needs the foreign to become familiar with oneself.
    Say. Look over there. That’s the famous Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish. He looks a lot like Abu Dalo. This could be my big break.
    THE CAMEL scrambles to put on a pair of Groucho Marx glasses. He grabs a microphone for the interview.
    Mr. Darwish, what would it take for Israelis and Palestinians to agree to put down their arms?
    Darwish ignores THE CAMEL.
    (aside) Hmm. He’s ignoring me. Maybe I need to ask a