Johnny Got His Gun Page #7

are spending money

and having fun.

Take me to the beaches

and the county fairs

and the 4th of July

celebrations

and all the church bazaars.

They've seen

the pin-headed girl from Timbuktu

or the dog-faced man

who crawls on his belly

like a reptile.

But they're not real freaks.

They were born that way.

They were made

that way by God.

But this thing here

in his fancy coffin

was made by people--

by you and me

and the lady next door--

and that takes

a lot of planning

and costs a lot of money.

Advertise me as the only

piece of meat in the world

that can talk through

the back of its head.

And if that

doesn't pull them in, then-- then-- then--

then bill me as the last man

on earth who joined the Army.

Because the army makes men.

So rally around

the flag, boys--

your flag, their flag,

anybody's flag--

because the flag

needs soldiers,

and the army makes men.

I...want...out...

so...people...

can...see...

what...I am.

Put me...in...

a...

c-carnival...show

where they...can

look...at me.

Let...me out.

Well, what could we

have expected?

Tell him, uh...

Tell him we'll do

everything we can,

but, uh, his condition

won't permit him to be moved.

For the present, that is.

Be sure to say

"for the present."

If...

you...

won't...let...

people see me,

then...

kill me.

He's upset.

Understandably so.

Ask him what his name is.

These shutters are to be closed

at all times.

What's he saying?

He says, "Kill me."

Over and over again.

"Kill me."

Tell him we'll do everything we can to make him comfortable.

For now, he needs rest.

Tell him we'll give him

a sedative and come back later.

And try to get his name.

You're not to mention

what has happened here to anyone.

I'll hold you collectively

responsible for any breach.

If new orders are received

in view of the new situation which has developed,

you'll be notified.

Well?

He won't wait

for an answer.

All he says is

"Kill me, kill me, kill me."

Don't you have some message

for him, Padre?

You could at least tell him

to put his faith in God,

couldn't you?

I'll pray for him

for the rest of my days,

but I will not risk

testing his faith

against your stupidity.

Well, you're a hell

of a priest, aren't you?

He's the product

of your profession,

not mine.

Clear the room.

Give him a light sedative,

nurse.

They're going away. Why?

Why don't they get it

over with and kill me?

But you're still here.

Can't you see

what I'm tapping to you?

I'm asking you to kill me.

Please do.

O my God,

I'm heartily sorry

for having offended thee.

And I detest all my sins,

not because of Thy judgment,

O Lord,

but because

thou art all good

and deserving

of all my love.

I firmly resolve,

with the help of thy grace,

to sin no more, to avoid

all the occasions of sin.

Amen.

Oh, nurse--

beautiful,

beautiful nurse--

thank you,

thank you, thank you.

Dear God,

thank her for me.

Be sweet to her, God.

Make her happy.

Make her beautiful.

Make everything she wants

come true!

Make everyone love her!

No!

No.

Leave the room.

Oh, somebody stopped her.

Why?

I said,

"Leave the room."

Give me the key.

What's happening?

The key?

Go on.

She's going.

I can feel her

moving toward the door.

He's sending her away.

Why?

First they

close the shutters,

and now they're

sending her away.

Why did they

close the shutters?

Why is he

sending her away?

Why won't they

let me talk?

Because I'm a secret

or something?

Oh, I don't know.

She's gone.

Good-bye, nurse.

You're gone,

and I'm a secret.

Oh, no. Not that again.

I-- I thought

they'd be glad

that I found a way to--

to talk to them.

But they're not.

The only thing on this earth

I'm any good for

they won't let me do.

All they want is to push me

back into the darkness

down here

so they won't ever

see me again.

He's gone, too.

Well, now I know.

They'll never let me out.

They'll keep me a secret here

until someday,

when I'm an old, old man,

I'll sneak away

from them and die.

It isn't easy, though.

Inside me,

I'm screaming and yelling

and howling

like a trapped animal...

and nobody

pays any attention.

If I had arms,

I could kill myself.

If I had legs,

I could run away.

If I had a voice,

I could talk and be some

kind of company for myself.

I could yell for help.

But nobody'd help me.

Not even God,

because there isn't any God.

Couldn't be

in a place like this.

And, uh...

And yet,

I've just got

to do something

because I--

I don't see how I can

go on like this

much longer.

SOS.

Help me.

SOS.

Help me.

SOS.

Help me.

SOS.

Help me.

SOS.

Help me.

SOS.

Help me.

SOS.

Help me.

SOS.

Help me.

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