Pollygrind Film Award Best Music Video 2010
Soundtrack: Last Nights of Paris David Eng
Directed: Ginnetta Correli
Pollygrind Film Award Best Music Video 2010
Soundtrack: Last Nights of Paris David Eng
Directed: Ginnetta Correli
It is a one story flat. A box of a flat. One bedroom. One bath. A kitchen and a gas stove. The Dodge is parked in front of Mother’s apartment door like an old blue Chevy Nova parks in front of seedy trucker motel.
“Beatie open it up,” Mother says.
The box sits untouched on my lap. I try not to cry.
“Mom, you just got out of the hospital. How are you gonna take care of yourself let alone take care of me? Just let me go back to Daddy. Let Daddy take care of me.
You’re sick!” I say.
“Just open the box, Beatie.”
“No, it’s not gonna change anything.”
“Open the box!”
I open the box. The box is cardboard. Six pairs of jeans stacked, the same color, same style, and a pink flower dress with a petty coat. A blue and white bag of my favorite candy, the kind with coconut and almonds, sits at the top.
“Just eat some candy,” Mother says. “I bought you some of those saddle back Ditto brand jeans you always wanted.”
“I don’t want them.”
“Then just eat the candy.”
I open the bag and stick a bite size candy bar in my mouth. The taste of tears and chocolate makes my throat dry and my tongue salty.
Mother watches me. She takes a hard inhale of her Salem.
“I bought you some Barbie, dolls too.”
Mother coughs a fur ball and rubs her eyes. Her fingers twitch.
I run to the door. Father. I know it’s cFather.
“Move outta my way, Larry.”
“Look Beatie, your dad isn’t gonna come and take you home.” Larry stands at the front of the door. His butt rubbing the doorknob.
“Larry, get outta my way.”
Larry shakes his head.”You’re a dumb bunny, Beatie.”
“Please just open the door,” I say.
“Open the door,” Mother says. Larry opens the door. I see Father. He sits in the Datsun. I run to the car. The car moves in reverse. Father does not see me.
“Dad… Daddy!” Father’s body faces forward, his head faces the road. Father’s glasses sit straight on his face. Maybe he doesn’t hear me.
Father’s head does not move. The car moves forward and away from me onto the road. I watch the back of Father’s black hair become a small dot. He is gone. I turn and walk towards the door. My eyes keep to the ground and notice a brown wrinkled grocery bag on the doorstep. I pick up the bag and look inside. A note sits on top of some of my clothes from home and some old sour ball candies. I read the note.
Don’t worry. Everything gonna be okay
don’t cry. Your Dad.
BACK INSIDE THE FLAT
Larry smiles and takes a final sip out of his beer can.
“Frata, I gotta go. I’ll give you a call in a few days when I get to Amarillo. By the way, Frata can you give me some money?”
Mother takes a drag off her Salem and smashes the butt in a black ashtray.
“Here’s some.” Mother hands Larry a large bundle of cash.
“Thanks. Have a good life, my little sister, I’ll pray for you.” Larry hugs Mother.
I walk to the bathroom and sit on the toilet. I cry. Did I forget to mention I hate my life?
A FEW DAYS LATER
“Mom, do you want me to go to the store?”
“Yeah get whatever you want honey. Take twenty dollars.” Mother points to her wallet on the night stand near her bed. Mother’s body under dirt sheets.
I walk to the grocery store. It’s dark. I notice a chalk-colored sidewalk ahead of me. Cars drive by and honk. I hate to walk in the dark. I run. Once, at the grocery store, I put two six packs of root beer soda and a six-pack of fruit punch soda in the grocery cart. Three bags of different kinds of chips go in the shopping cart. grab fifteen chocolate candy bars from the check-out lane and set them on the conveyer belt along with the other snacks.
“Boy, that’s some party you’re going to have. Is that all for you?” The white haired checkout lady asks.
“No, I just do most of the shopping for my family,” I say.
She puts the groceries in the bag. I walk out of the supermarket and stop at the hot dog stand on the way to Mother’s apartment.
“Six chili dogs,” I tell the gray haired hot dog lady.
“Are you gonna eat all them hot dogs?”
“No, I have a family to feed.”
“Oh,” the hot dog lady says.
EAT THE CHILI DOGS
I arrive home. Mother is asleep.
“Hey Mom, I got us some dinner.”
“Oh how nice,” she says.
I turn on the kitchen light. Mother wears her usual housecoat. We sit on the small couch together. We drink soda and eat chili dogs. Mother chews her food
“Mom, can I watch TV?”
“Sure honey. Do whatever you want.”
I turn on the TV. The picture on the television is dark.
“When I get some more money from your father I’m gonna get us a new TV, this TV needs a new picture tube.”
Mother stuffs hot dog in her mouth. Some of the chili misses her lips and lands on her cheek. More chili falls on Mother’s lap.
“Maybe if we turn it on its side it will work better.” I turn the TV on its side.
“Yeah, that’s a little better. Here, let’s try turning it upside down. Maybe it’ll be even better that way.” I turn it again and Mother and me move our heads to the side.
“That’s better,” Mother says.
“Let’s see what’s on.” I grab the TV Guide off the coffee table and flip through it.
“Hey Mom, guess what’s supposed to be on tonight?”
“Hmm?” Mother’s mouth full of chili dog.
“The Exorcist. Can I watch it?”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
WATCH THE EXORCIST
Mother goes to her room. She turns out the bedroom light. I watch the TV upside down. A girl lies on a bed. A priest overlooks the girl and waves a cross to her forehead. The girl’s eyes are stretched open. The picture on the TV is snow green. The sound on the television is good. Kind of loud. I hear the girl in the bed growl at the priest. A woman cries. The woman sits near the girl’s bed. I hear a noise from the window behind me. It’s the sound of cats. The cats meow and fight outside Mother’s apartment. A girl growls at a priest on the TV and cats hiss outside Mother’s window. I listen to both sounds. Mother sleeps. Mother wakes. I watch Mother. She glides from her room and crosses the living room to the front door.
“Hey Mom this movie’s weird.”
Mother moon walks to the door. Mother opens the front door.
“Mom what are you doing?”
“Here kitty kitty… Here kitty,” Mother whispers.
Her housecoat moves to the breeze in the darkness of night. Mother’s arms raise and stretch to the moon. Mother rushes outside, her arms raised high. She welcomes a Noah’s ark of alley cats.
WHAT IS MOTHER DOING?
Mother runs to the alley behind the apartment. I follow her barefoot wearing a white tee-shirt with a print of a yellow smiley face. I stay far enough behind Mother that she doesn’t see me but close enough to see what Mother does. Mother dances near a metal trash can in the alley. A glow-eyed mom cat meows behind the garbage can. The mother nurses her kitten. Mother pauses for a moment. She raises her arm. Mother’s fingers spread into a web. She snatches and tears the dirty white infant quick from the mom. An alley baby in Mother’s grip. The kitten’s mother has no choice. She flees and leaves the child. Mother holds the baby by its neck. I hurry back around the other side to the living room. I jump onto the couch near the TV. The sound of an exorcism comes from the television. I watch Mother from the window. Mother swings her hips. A greasy kitten’s body dangles from mother’s fingers. The eyes red-orange glass marbles. Mother enters the door. A stiff-headed young cat wiggles its legs under the palm of Mother’s hand.
“Mom, where did you get the kitty?”
“Behind the Dodge, next to the president,”
Mother kisses and swings the cat.
“Yeah Beatie. Didn’t you know that John F. Kennedy is in the garbage can outside?”
“Mom, the President isn’t in the garbage can.”
“Well, then God the Father is.”
Mother shuts the door to her room. I stare at the TV. A girl screams at a priest. A bed shakes. The baby cries in Mother’s room. I fall asleep.
“Mom I don’t feel so good today. I don’t think I’m gonna go to school. My stomach hurts.”
I haven’t been to school for two weeks. Mother says when the spirit moves me to return to school and moves her to drive the Dodge she will drive me to school. Mother sits at the dining room table. She drinks black coffee and smokes.
“Want to watch TV?” Mother asks. She sticks her finger in her nose.
“I thought maybe we could go to the store and get me a surprise,” I say.
“Yeah, like some toys,” I say.
“A surprise?” Mother asks.
Mother puts her cigarette out in the ashtray. She gets up and walks to the bathroom. She shuts the door.
“Go get a surprise for yourself,” She says through the door.
I hear Mother vomit in the toilet.
“Mom, are you okay?”
The toilet flushes.
“Just go get a surprise and bring me back a chili dog,” she says.
I leave Mother. I buy a chili dog and a Barbie doll. I return home to Mother.
Nurse Lucy record now available on Amazon and Itunes
Finally finished this. Thank You to the band: End of Science for a great tune and to the actors some of whom are pissed at me at the moment.
Two Months Later
THE HUNTING TRIP
Rosie has boobies and wears a bra. She is smart with freckles and a cream face. When I hang around Rosie, I can be mean. I’m not sure why. Today the victim is brown-eyed Sandy.
“Got the bags?” I ask Rosie.
“Oh, heck yeah. They’ve been sitting in my locker all day.” She opens the door to her school locker.
“Gross! That stinks,” Lorena says. “It smells like something died.” She plugs her nose with her fingers.
“Yeah, I don’t know why I put them in my locker. I should have hid them in a bush somewhere.”
“How many did you bring?” Lorena asks.
“Three bags.” Rosie moves some books out of the way. We see three large, clear bags filled with what looks like vomit inside them.
“What’s in it?” I ask.
“Well, I couldn’t get any poop out of Sugar, so I mixed the bags with other crap like mayonnaise, sugar, mustard, A1 sauce and some of my poop.”
“You put your poop in it?”
“I thought little Chihuahua dogs poop like crazy,” Lorena says.
“I think Sugar’s constipated. I couldn’t get any out of her.” Rosie hands Lorena and me a bag.
“This is gonna be funny. I can’t wait to see her face,” Lorena says.
“I see her,” I say. The three of us watch Sandy. Her long blonde ponytail bounces, her red ribbon neat and tight. She carries her books through the thick green grass of our school ball field. The three of us grab the bags from Rosie and run. We catch up to Sandy. Now she walks on the sidewalk. We stalk our prey.
“Hey Sandy,” Rosie says.
“Hey girls!” Sandy says.
I don’t take my eyes off of her. My mouth waters.
“Hey, Sandy, want some Tootsie Rolls?” I ask.
“Tootsie Rolls?” she asks.
“Yeah! Here you go. Eat this!” Rosie snatches Sandy around her waist and pulls her to the ground.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Lorena comes up from behind and grabs Sandy hard on the neck. She presses Sandy’s face to the asphalt. Rosie holds her down.
“No!” Sandy screams. “Stop it! Leave me alone! What are you doing?”
Kids who walk home from school stop to watch.
“Get the rabbit!” Someone in the crowd yells. I straddle Sandy’s body.I open the bag and release the contents of the bag onto Sandy’s face.
“Ugh! Ugh!” she sobs.
I ignore her. I press down on Sandy’s shoulders with my knees.
My fingers frost her face. Sandy becomes tranquilized.
She wears a mask of make-believe feces. Two holes expose her watered eyes.
We take turns…