Presents
Narciso By Manuela Infante
Please turn off your beepers and cellular phones. Enjoy the Show.
I don’t ever want to see my mom’s face again in my whole fucking life.
I’m never going to leave this bathroom. And it’s all your fault.
Yes, you my ‌ brother, my brother Luis Felipe, no, no, my brother Raymond, no worse, Clemente!
Yes, Clemente! Why the hell did you show mom this cheat sheet?
Because you told on me first!
I told on you first? What did I tell?
You told mom that I had stolen money, you showed her the drawer where I was hiding her friends’ wallets.
Why do you have to be such a bitch? Why did you have to do that?
Because they were all calling mom on the phone and she was giving me shit
because she thought I was the one that had stolen the money.
“Esperanza what a shame, why do this to me, when I have given you everything?�
So I had to prove that it wasn’t me, and that’s your thing.
Right, but you just as well could have said it was the maid.
You know mom trusts her blindly, so she was gonna blame me for sure anyway.
Well, why do you think she trusts her more than you?
What? Mom trusts her more than me because she doesn’t know me.
Oh great‌the poor victim.
You wanna be the victim? Ok, be the victim, but then we’re not leaving the bathroom EVER again,
even if somebody calls you on the phone‌
Not even if your stupid friends are here outside the door with Paris Hilton’s latest triple X video,
Not even if you miss the opening of the fall season at Dior,
Not even if you are starving,
Not even if you get bored.
What, you’re afraid? You started this whole thing so you’d better start getting used to it...
Ok! Stop! Enough! I want to disappear now! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
Damn it! Disappear!
What’s wrong?
What’s wrong? You told Mom. And you know what Mom did? She told Dad.
And you know what Dad did? He kicked me‌
But I…I…hit him back.
You hit Dad?
I punched him in the stomach...he almost puked.
Shit, Clemente! And Mom?
Mom…was paralyzed.
So obvious, she’s always paralyzed. And the fatso, the maid?
She started crying...
So come on, how pathetic, too much TV…too many soaps…
Why does she have to cry at everything?
Yeah, why does she have to be so‌
Fat.
Mom came up with another one of her fucking creative punishments‌
I have to return all the money with a letter saying sorry, I feel so bad, blah, blah.
Now she really fucked you over.
I swear I would rather she grounded me for the rest of my life.
Totally …shit, why did Mom have to get so “yogi” on everything!
Yeah man, now we have to fucking express everything.
Fucking workshops.
Fucking Dalai Lama.
I swear, I would prefer it if she were Catholic.
Totally.
Why doesn’t she find herself a lover so he can open her ass chakra!
And now her fucking signature is “Asharanti.”
Seriously, who the fuck is Asharanti, your name is Pia, take some responsibility...
Get over the fact that all you really want is to get a fucking new face.
I mean with all the money that she has spent on “the search� she could have made herself all over again three times already.
Express ourselves; they wanted us to express ourselves.
I expressed myself.
And you punched Dad.
Totally.
Yeah, totally.
And how much money was it?
Like a thousand and a half.
Plus checks, credit cards, and the pictures they had in their wallets that have like fucking sentimental value.
And all their cute kids smiling in the pictures…what the fuck are they smiling about.
Really, what are they so happy about? What?
And what’s this?
What do you mean what’s this? It’s the fucking cheat sheet that you showed Mom.
and now I can’t use my new car ever again.
Yeah, but what class was it for?
Religion class.
And what subject?
Suicide.
Ways of killing yourself ?
It’s religion class for God’s sake! It’s characteristics of suicidal person.
And are there lots of characteristics?
Like ten.
Like the Ten Commandments... Why do they have to do everything by tens?
‘Cause, a suicidal person is not that simple.
come on. One Characteristic: they want to die.
It would be great if there were only one.
Yeah, there would be more suicides.
No, ‘cause the test would have only one question, and like, I’d get an A.
But it is like Q and A?
No, Clemente, it’s like a formula, you know a formula?
…Let’s say like...what’s the formula for being really hot.
You have to be blonde, not weigh more than 90 pounds, you have to have brown skin and big thick lips...
if you have all those characteristics you are totally hot‌
If you have all these then you’re gonna kill yourself.
What is wrong with your religion teacher?
Self-discipline.
What a load of shit, selfdiscipline, why the fuck to we go to school then?
Yeah we could just stay home and self-discipline ourselves here.
It’s because they are fucking lazy, I don’t even know what we pay them for.
Yeah, our folks should give us the money so we can self- discipline ourselves.
Selfish assholes, why don’t they just hire an detective?
And a psychologist! I mean why would I want to know who’s gonna kill themselves and who isn’t?
Why should I care?! And all that shit about grading yourself!
How am I supposed to grade myself if I don’t know anything! What the fuck? Sure, just straight A’s!
Jerk-offs.
And theater class… that’s the worse…all those getting to know and express yourself exercises.
“Here no one is wrong, everyone is just fine as they are,” “everything you do is fine,” what a bunch of crap!
If everything were fine then everything would be so wrong!
Well that’s how things are.
Self-discipline, selfevaluation, self....
Self-service, self-conscious… self-healing…
Self-indulgence...
Self-inflicted
Selfish.
Filet-o-fish… Mmmm…
...yeah and now, they want us to choose our own classes? It’s like make your own happy meal…
Right, and add large fries for 99 cents.
Yeah, it’s ‘cause they are lazy fucks.
You want me to help you memorize them?
...all right.
Ok, tell me number one.
I don’t know number one.
come on.
Why do you think I made a cheat sheet?
Ok, it’s really easy; it starts with “use.”
I use Mom’s car.
I use Dad’s credit card.
I use birth control?
I use alcohol.
Ok…and…
I use alcohol and drugs.
Yes, that’s it.
So easy. Ok, hit me with number two.
Starts with “lack.”
“Lack”…are you sure? That’s impossible.
What could I possibly not have?
Say “please” if you want it. What’s the magic word?
Yeah, right.
Say “please” for once in your life!
Oh please, please pretty please.
No, don’t I believe it. Do it for real.
Please sir, help me out, some spare change, anything.
To buy some food, oh I’m so hungry, I beg you, to buy myself a filet-o-fish,
or some chicken nuggets, at least a happy meal or a donut.
Food? Look at yourself Esperanza, your ass is huge, grease ball.
To buy some food for my fourteen kids with syphilis, my retarded brother, look at his face he is so retarded‌
You liar, what do you think this is you fucking bum, that you can just put out your hand and money will fall from the sky?
You have to move your fat ass and work for it!!
Hello, Clemente, listen to yourself, you sound just like Dad‌
What about your sensitivity, Africa, poor people, heal the world make it a better place, hello‌
Oh I’m so cold and it’s raining.
I need some money to buy a coat like the one I saw in the window at Urban Outfitters.
It was pink and it had zippers here and here and it was long but just enough
so you could see my Nike pink and black sneakers.
What? Hello?! Black and pink sneakers, what you are mutating to the “emo� style?
At least I’m mutating, not like you, you’ve had the same crappy look for like ten years now.
Esperanza, for your information, I have no look, ok?
Yeah, right...there is no such thing as “no look.”
Ok then, what’s my look?
Computer nerd, shy homeboy with a touch of hip hop, trying to look ghetto, but still bought at Tommy.
Pop but still a bit dark, stuck at your computer all day long downloading reggaeton
but hoping nobody will ever find out,
and if they do they’ll know it’s just because you are so openminded.
Great…nothing.
Yeah sure, “nothing,� like, oh, I just woke up this morning and my hair is so messy,
And I just stuck my hand in the closet and oh this came out, this that makes me look like so‌ stupid!
You know what? You think you pass as super wild on girl, but in the end, you are the same as Mom.
I am what I am, ok?
“I am what I am.” Who taught you that… your stupid friends?
At least I have friends.
Your friends don’t give a shit about you.
They go out with you so you’ll drop them off when they are drunk. You’re pathetic.
At least it’s better than spending all day in my fucking room like you.
You don’t know what it is to have friends, all you do is sit there and jerk off.
Yeah, and all you do is fuck anything that walks by.
Don’t you think it’s embarrassing to be the brother of the school slut?
Now you’re embarrassed, you asshole?
I thought you said you didn’t care about anybody, you want to be like everybody else,
but nobody gives a shit about you, you loser.
And you fuck everybody so they will be your friends...
No, ‘cause I have to make up for you ‘cause you’re never going to have sex in your fucking life.
Your dick is gonna fall off ‘cause it’s gonna be dead.
And you, your brain is gonna fall off cause all you get are D’s in school.
I hate school, so what. At least I say it.
I don’t get all C’s, just enough to pass like you, I don’t give a shit about school.
That’s number two.
What?
Characteristic number two: “Lack of interest in school or homework.�
Fuck you.
Fuck me.
Come over here and I will.
Pull your pants down and I will.
come on
Asshole
Moron
Fat ass
Retarded
Whore
Slut, whore, whore, whore
Are you gonna get your boobs done?
Maybe, Dad said he would give it to me for my birthday.
How much does it cost?
I dunno.
Damn, why do I always get fucked over?
Why, how much were your skis?
I dunno.
Same thing.
Yeah but you don’t need to get new boobs, you’re boobs are fine the way they are...
You didn’t need new skis, your old skis were fine.
You didn’t even have them for two years, I’ve had these same boobs for…at least five.
Slut.
What? I don’t like them, do you like them?
They’re nothing special.
See, I have to get them done.
I’m your brother, I’m not supposed to like your “things.”
And if you weren’t?
They are fine, I told you already.
Fine is not good, I’m already used to “fine.”
And what if you get them done and they look ugly.
I’ll get them done again.
And if it hurts?
It hurts?
And if Dad doesn’t pay for other operation until your next birthday?
It’s my right, ok. He’s the one that is always talking about perfection, that we have to be perfect.
I want perfect boobs.
Totally, and I want perfect skis.
Do you think he really means it?