Free House of Many Tongues by Jonathan Garfinkel Page B

Would you show me where it is?
    Rivka: No.
    Alex: You’re my tutor. I trust you. I don’t trust anyone else.
    Rivka: It’s not right.
    Alex: What’s right, Rivka? Is war right? Is learning how to shoot a gun at your enemy right? You’re going to reserve duty in a couple of weeks. Wouldn’t you rather there be peace? To not have to fight?
    Rivka: Of course I want peace. Who doesn’t want peace? But oral sex is not going to stop martyr wackos from blowing up innocent people.
    Alex: How do you know cunnilingus won’t save the Middle East?
    RIVKA affectionately touches ALEX.
    Rivka: You’re sweet, Alex.
    Now. Can we get to your homework?
    You don’t want to fall too far behind.

Scene 4
    That same afternoon. SHIMON speaks into a tape recorder. Drinking beer.
    Shimon: Now. The General led the campaign of the ’67 War into East Jerusalem. He shot whatever was in his path. He was wild and unstoppable. Did he have regrets? There was no time for regret. It was three nations against one. For six days the General protected his country. He was fearless and bold. That was his genius.
    He was young.
    Beautiful.
    Even the killing was beautiful.
    There was Dan and the General on a hill.
    They were talking and laughing when a bullet went through Dan’s left eye and his skull exploded like an apple.
    Everything is beautiful when you are young.
    Thousands of us marched into East Jerusalem, singing “Yerushalayim of Gold.”
    He had shivers in June.
    He wept at the Wailing Wall.
    The General was wounded in the left shoulder.
    He wandered out of the city in a fever and followed the tracks of the old Palestine railroad.
    There was no one around. It was quiet. Everyone was either celebrating or dead.
    All of a sudden, he was surrounded by silence. The impossibility of space in Jerusalem. And in that space, a house. It appeared before his eyes.
    Tape: A house. It appeared before his eyes.
    A house. It appeared before his eyes.
    SHIMON’s vision, 1967. Lights up on THE HOUSE. SHIMON is wounded.
    The House: Hey you. Got anything to eat?
    Shimon: Are you talking to me?
    The House: No. I’m talking to the leaky faucet. Of course I’m talking to you.
    Shimon: But you’re… a house.
    The House: And you’re a moron. But we can still have a conversation. Amazing, isn’t it? Now. What do you have to eat?
    Shimon: Nothing. I’ve barely eaten in days.
    The House: God. What are you good for?
    Shimon: I can fight.
    The House: That’s not gonna help. Can you eat a fight? Can you sleep on a fight? What else do you got?
    Shimon: Well, it depends on what you want.
    The House: Ah. I sense a negotiation coming. I like a good negotiation. What are your terms?
    Shimon: For what?
    The House: The negotiations.
    Shimon: I don’t know what we’re negotiating.
    The House: We’re negotiating what you’re going to give me.
    Shimon: For what?
    The House: For whatever you want.
    Shimon: Well, I want to come inside.
    The House: That’ll cost you.
    Shimon: How much?
    The House: That remains to be determined.
    Shimon: How do we do that?
    The House: What do you have to offer? A knife. Still sharp. Recently used. And. A ’34 Mauser. Empty cartridge. Ahh… a photograph. Who’s the broad?
    Shimon: My mother.
    The House: That’s no good. Not at all.
    Shimon: What am I doing wrong?
    The House: You’re just not the right type.
    Shimon: The right type of what?
    The House: The right type of person to live here.
    Shimon: Live here?
    The House: That’s what you want, isn’t it?
    Shimon: I didn’t know it was available to live in.
    The House: Well there’s nobody here.
    Shimon: Where’d they all go?
    The House: They just picked up and left.
    Shimon: Just like that?
    The House: Just like that.
    Shimon: So you… could be my house then?
    The House: Ah.
    Shimon: You’re a Jewish house.
    The House: I speak sixty-seven different languages. Hebrew happens to be my favourite.
    Shimon: Well I need a house. I need a home.
    The House: And what do I get?
    Shimon: I