by Rajiv Joseph
KEV: He bit off my friend’s hand! This tiger, he attacked him, this guy Tommy, he’s like my best friend over here. And so I shot the bastard in the gut. Bucka bucka! The tiger, I mean. And he died.
I saved Tommy’s life, you know? But everyone’s like ... Everyone’s all like ... I screwed up or something. Like I did something wrong.
I wanted to get the tiger and skin him. I wanted to make a carpet out of him, but they wouldn’t let me. Can you believe that?
MUSA: Yes, you got gypped.
KEV: That’s right! I got fucking gypped!
MUSA: That is one of the casual phrases I have learned.
Kev laughs and smiles at Musa.
KEV: Hey. You want to see something?
MUSA: Yes.
KEV: You can’t tell anyone you saw this, okay?
MUSA: Okay.
KEV: I’m serious, Habib.
MUSA: Yes.
Kev looks around covertly. Goes into his bag, pulls out the gold gun. He shows it to Musa.
KEV: You see this shit?
This was Saddam’s kid’s gun.
MUSA: What?
KEV: Saddam’s kid. I don’t know. Last name Hussein.
Musa stares at the gun. He reaches out for it.
KEV: Uh-uh. No touchy, Habib.
MUSA: May I?
KEV: No touchy.
MUSA: I would just like to ... please. May I hold it?
Kev considers. He likes that Musa wants it.
KEV: Okay, but don’t get any ideas, Habib. I will waste you.
Musa takes the gun and stares at it.
KEV: I was at the standoff at the palace, baby. Two-day standoff. We killed those sons of bitches. Both of them. Man, that palace they had? Gold out the ass, man. Gold everywhere. All their weapons were gold! Even their toilet was gold, boy! Goddamn!
Musa still stares at the gun, now grasping it in a strange manner. He begins to shake with rage.
KEV: Dude. Habib?
MUSA: You killed them?
KEV: Who?
MUSA: Uday Hussein. Qusay Hussein. You were among the soldiers who killed them?
KEV: Yeah, dude.
What?
Musa shakes, begins to breathe harshly.
KEV: What is wrong with you, man?
Dude! Relax!
Musa falls into a crouch, still clutching the gun.
Kev tries to grab the gun from him.
KEV: Habib, you’re going psycho jihadi on me now, dude. Give me the gun! What the fuck?
Kev struggles to take the gun from Musa and finally does.
KEV: Jesus! What the fuck is your problem?
Musa sits on the ground motionless, staring at nothing.
KEV: Seriously, Habib. Are you going crazy on me here? Do I need to shoot you?
MUSA: You do not need to shoot me.
KEV: Good, man. Cause I don’t want to shoot you.
What’s your problem, though?
MUSA: I don’t have a problem.
KEV: No? Then what was all that shit about? All that shaking around and shit?
(near tears) Jesus! Everything I see every day is just one crazy fucking thing after another. You’re a freak, Habib. Freaky deaky, no shit.
Kev begins to freak out, shaking, nervous.
MUSA: Please leave me alone.
Please leave me.
This room is for translators.
Why are you here?
KEV: I got to get dressed!
MUSA: (deliberate)
Go. Dress. Somewhere. Else.
Beat.
KEV: I just need to be alone when I put this stuff on or I don’t do it right.
It doesn’t mean I’m a fucking idiot. I just have to concentrate.
(beat) You know what I’m saying? This is like fifty pounds of gear, man. Kevlar and shit. It’s like complicated, you know?
MUSA: Complicated.
KEV: Yeah. Complicated.
It’s war, you know? Everything is all fucked up. But see? Now I’m all set. Gonna go out tonight and figure some shit out, right?
MUSA: I suppose so.
Kev holds out his hand for a high five. Musa just looks at it.
KEV: I catch you later, Habib.
Come on, man. High five.
Musa just stares at Kev’s hand.
KEV: Come on, man! High five!
Musa lightly high-fives him.
KEV: That’s what I’m talking about, bitch.
That’s what I’m talking about.
Kev leaves, Musa watches him go.
Scene 3.
In the dark, chaotic sounds of soldiers pounding on the doors of a home. Yelling, screaming, furniture being overturned.
As the sounds continue, lights up on an Iraqi man standing with a sack tied around his head and his hands tied behind his back.
Kev enters with Musa.
A woman runs onstage and goes to the man. Her sudden entrance goes entirely against procedure and freaks Kev and Musa out.
WOMAN: (Arabic) Don’t take him! Get out of our house! Leave us alone!
La-Takhthoo! Etle’oo min baitne! Joozoo min edne!
KEV: Whoa! Get her back!
MUSA: (Arabic, to Woman) Go back!
Irja-ee
KEV: (to Man) I need you down on the ground! Hands behind your—Sir? Sir? I need you down on the ground! Down on the ground!
MUSA: (Arabic, to Man) You need go down to—
Inteh Tehtaj tinzil lil ...
KEV: Wait, what are you telling him?
MUSA: What?
WOMAN: (Arabic) There’s nothing here for you! Go away!
Makoo shee elkoom ehna! Roohoo!
KEV: What are you telling him?
WOMAN: (Arabic) We have done nothing wrong. Go away!
Me sawaine shee ghalatt. Roohoo!
MUSA: I’m telling him what you said!
KEV: What the fuck?
MUSA: I’m translating!
KEV: (to Man) You speak English? Hey, sir, you speak fucking English!?
MAN: What does he want? What’s he saying?
Hathe shee-yreed? Hathe shday-gool?
WOMAN: (Arabic) I don’t know, they’re wrecking the house. They want to take you away!
Ma a’roof, daykhereboon ilbait. Yreedoon yakhthook wiyahoom!
Kev pushes Man.
KEV: You speak fucking English I said!
MUSA: He doesn’t speak English!
KEV: Fuck that, man. Tell him to kneel down. I’m gonna count from five! Five ... four ... three ... two ...
MUSA: (over Kev, Arabic) He wants you both to kneel down.
Yireed-kum thnain-nat-koom terka’oon.
The man and woman kneel down. Kev bumps into a large wooden chest and nearly falls over.
KEV: Hey! What’s in this chest here? Hey you speaka Englisha?
MUSA: They don’t speak English! Stop yelling! You don’t need to yell.
KEV: That’s what you gotta do, man, or these towelheads will fuck you, man.
MUSA: Just tell me what you want to tell them and I will translate. Okay?
KEV: Don’t fucking tell me my business, Habib.
WOMAN: (Arabic) Oh my God, we’ve done nothing, but say what do you want? You want to take us all away? Get out! Get out of my home!
Allahoo akbar, ehne me sawaine shee, bess kooloo shitreedoon?
Treedoon takhthoone kulne? Etla’oo! Etla’oo min baitee!
MAN: (Arabic) Stop making trouble! We must do what they say!
Kafee tse-ween masha-kil! lazim nse-wee lee-reedoo!
KEV: (yelling) Shut up! What’s in this box?
MUSA: (Arabic) He wants to know what is in this box.
Yireed yu’roof shinoo bil sundoog.
WOMAN: (Arabic) The box!? He wants the box? He can take it, take it! Just leave, get them all out! We haven’t done anything wrong!
Il sendoog, yreed il sendoog? Yigder yakhooth il sendoog, ukhthe! bess roohoo, telle’hum koolhum berre! ehne me sawaine shee ghalatt!
<
br /> MUSA: She says there are ...
(to Woman, Arabic) What did you say?
Shgil-tee?
KEV: Wait what?
WOMAN: (Arabic) There’s nothing in there! Blankets and nothing else!
Makoo shee hnak! bess Buttaniat, makoo ghair shee!
MUSA: Nothing! There’s nothing—
KEV: That’s bullshit. She said a lot more than “nothing.” I don’t speak Iraqi, but she said a lot more than “nothing.”
WOMAN: (Arabic) He wants a box? Tell him to take the box! Take it and leave!
Yireed il sendoog? Gul-le khelee yakhooth il sendoog! Yakhthe weyrooh!
MAN: (Arabic) Be quiet! Don’t make it worse!
Sook-tee! let saw-weeheh engess!
MUSA: (to Man and Woman, Arabic) Please be quiet! Please!
Raja’en sook-too! Reja’en!
KEV: (re: Man and Woman talking) See that’s what I’m talking about.
Kev goes to Man and Woman and stands above them in a threatening manner.
KEV: We are here to help you!
MUSA: You don’t need to do this!
KEV: What’s in the box?!
MUSA: (to Woman, Arabic) What is in the box?
Shinoo bil sundoog?
WOMAN : (Arabic)
Buttaniat! Buttaniat!
MUSA: (to Kev; accidentally in Arabic)
Buttaniat!
KEV: What? What the fuck did you say!?
MUSA: (to Kev; in Arabic; frustrated)
Buttaniat! Buttaniat!
KEV: In English!! Speak English, will you?!
MUSA: What?
WOMAN: (Arabic) Don’t yell! Tell him to stop yelling! Leave us alone!
Let suy-eh! gul-le kheli y-buttel y-suy-eh! Joozoo min edne!
KEV: What the fuck!
MAN: (Arabic) Stop yelling!
Kafee tsuy-heen!
MUSA: Blankets! Sorry! Blankets!
MAN: (Arabic) There’s nothing more for them to take! Just be quiet!
Makoo ba’ad shee moomkin yakh-thoo! bess sook-tee!
KEV: What blankets?!
MUSA: In the box!
KEV: What?
WOMAN: (Arabic) Take it, steal it, steal everything we have. Criminals, all of you, every one of you.
Ukhthoo, boogoo, boogu kulshee edne. Mujremeen, kulkum, kul wahid min edkum.
MUSA: Blankets! In the box!
KEV: We’ll see about that! We’ll fucking see about that!
Kev walks to the chest and opens it and begins taking out folded blankets. He flaps them open and tosses them randomly.
WOMAN: (Arabic) What does he want? There’s nothing there! They’re blankets.
Hathe Shee-yreed? Makoo shee hnak! Hethole buttaniat
KEV: You see this!? You see?
MUSA: What!? What’s wrong?! What’s happened?
WOMAN: (Arabic) They’re just blankets!
Hetholeh bess buttaniat!
As Kev goes through the blankets, he seems to be more and more desperate, looking for something in the box.
MUSA: You’re supposed to stand guard!
KEV: I’m supposed to do my job!
Shut up!
WOMAN: (Arabic) What is he doing? There’s nothing there for him! He’s crazy! The man has lost his mind!
Hathe shday-sa-wee? Makoo shee il-eh hnak! Hathe mejnoon! Hel-rijal foo-ked akle!
Kev stares at one of the blankets, draped over a chair now. He paces around it, as if it might suddenly attack him. Something spooks him.
He grabs the blanket and bunches it up and then throws it just as Tiger enters the scene. The blanket hits Tiger and clings to him. Kev sees this, but nobody else does.
KEV: Oh God, no way.
Tiger seems to be almost sleepwalking, not aware of his surroundings. He shrugs the blanket off and wanders around, not sensing Kev or anyone else.
Kev drops his gun. The woman screams.
MUSA: What’s happened?! What are you doing?
Outside of the scene, a topiary hedge of animals is dimly lit and Tiger walks to it, examining it.
MAN: (Arabic) For God’s sake what is going on? Come here! Come to me!
Il khater alle hi shdayseer? Te’alee hna, te’alee yemmee!
MUSA: (to Man and Woman, Arabic) Quiet! Will you shut up!
Suntteh! moomkin tsooktoon!
WOMAN: (Arabic) He’s going to kill us! He’s crazy!
Hathe rah yuktulne! Hathe mejnoon!
MAN: (Arabic) What’s happening? What’s going on?
Hi shday-seer? Hi shday-saw-woon?
KEV: Shut up!
WOMAN: (Arabic) Get him out of here! Oh, God ...
Telle’a minna! Akh ya alla ...
KEV: Nobody move! Nobody say a fucking word!
MUSA: (to Man and Woman, Arabic) Quiet!
Suntteh!
Kev circles the chair with the blanket, takes out the gold gun from his uniform, pointing the gold gun at it.
KEV: Motherfucker ... motherfucker ...
MUSA: (yelling) What are you doing?!
KEV: Shut up!
Kev picks up a blanket.
KEV: You see this!?
He throws it.
KEV: You see?
What the fuck is that!?
MUSA: That’s a blanket.
KEV: What else, huh? What fucking else?!
MUSA: There’s nothing there!
Kev points the gun at Musa. Woman screams.
KEV: It’s not a fucking blanket! It’s him! It’s him!
MUSA: I’m sorry!
Kev points the gun back at Tiger.
MAN: (Arabic) Come over here, come over here, what are they doing?
Te’alee hna, te’alee hna, hethole shday-saw-woon?
WOMAN: (Arabic) I don’t know! The soldier is sick in the head, he has his gun ...
Ma a’roof, hathe iljundee t-kheb-bell, oo ende museddess
KEV: Everyone needs to shut up.
MUSA: (Arabic) Be quiet!
Suntteh!
Kev starts sporadically removing his gear. Helmet, shirt, eventually his pants come off.
WOMAN: (Arabic) What is he doing? Why is he doing that?
Hathe shday-saw-wee? Hathe leysh hee-chee day-saw-wee?
KEV: (to Tiger) Bring it, Tiger. I’m right here, ready, bitch. Don’t need no Kevlar, no flak, fuckin-A, just me and you. Me and you Tiger, I’m ready. I’m ready!
KEV: (he starts to cry) I did it once, I can do it again ... I can kill him again ...
MUSA: No. No killing.
The gun. Give it to me.
KEV: I didn’t want to do it.
MUSA: I know. Here. Give it to me ...
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Musa slowly takes the gun from Kev.
Kev starts sobbing and collapses.
The woman gets up and starts screaming at him, throwing the discarded blankets at him.
WOMAN: (Arabic) Nothing, you’ve got nothing, you’re crazy, empty, soulless fools, all of you, ruining our lives with your stupid, mindless game!
Ente La shai’, kulshee ma I’ndek, inte mejnoon, farigh, kulkum, demertoo haeyatne b gheba’kum oo lu’abkum il ashwa’i-yeh
KEV: I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!
WOMAN: (Arabic) You! Where are you going?
Ente! weyn rayih?
MUSA: (Arabic) I’m leaving.
Ani rah-arooh.
Musa looks at the gold gun and then puts it in his pants and starts to leave.
WOMAN: (Arabic) You’re stealing, just like them! Stealing, a common thief!
Ente det-boog, mithilhum, haramee, haramee a’adee!
MUSA: (Arabic) Leave me alone.
Joozee minnee.
Musa exits.
WOMAN: (Arabic) Go! Go home you traitor, you thief!
Rooh, rooh ilbaitek ya kha’in, ya haramee!
MUSA: (Arabic) This does not belong to him ...
This does not belong to him.
Hathe moo melthe!
MAN: (Arabic
) Would you tell me what’s happening! Will you stop shouting, for God’s sake?
Met gooleelee hi shdayseer! Tigdereen tbettileen syah, il khattir alle?
The woman looks at Kev, now half-buried under blankets.
KEV: I’m sorry ... I’m sorry ... I’m just gonna stand here ... I’m just gonna stand here standing guard. Sir, yes sir ... Sir, yes ... sir ...
I’m sorry!
Man down! Man down! Man attacked by ... Man attacked by ...
Man attacked.
WOMAN: (quietly to her husband, Arabic) He’s on the ground. He’s crazy. He’s sick. Come ... come, we’ll leave ...
Hoo-eh al ga’. Hathe mejnoon. Hathe merreedh. Te’al ... Te’al, khelee en-rooh ...
(Woman and Man begin to exit; to Kev, Arabic) Go to hell! Leave us alone and go to hell!
Rooh el-je-hen-nem! jooz min edne oo rooh el-je-hen-nem!
Woman and Man exit. Kev huddles in the corner, covering himself with blankets.
KEV: I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m just gonna stand here standing guard.
I shot him Tommy! I shot him! I fucking shot him, he’s dead Tommy!
