Mother Night Page #4

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It doesn't do any good.

There.

No need for amputation.

- Just keep it dry for a few days. | - Well, thank you.

No problem. | I'll see you out.

What? Pardon me?

I asked if you spoke German.

Oh. No, no, no. | I'm afraid not.

Good-bye. | That's "good-bye," isn't it?

It's "till we meet again. "

Oh. Till we meet again.

Well, auf Wiedersehen.

Yes.

Yes?

Campbell, it's Adolph Eichmann.

I'm in the cell above you.

Yes, Eichmann. Hello.

You're always typing in there...

day and night | and night and day...

typing, typing, typing...

Is it bothering you?

No. I'm a heavy sleeper.

I'm only curious. | Are you preparing your memoir?

Yes. A command performance | for the Haifa Institute.

You're a lucky man.

I'm lucky?

How do you consider me lucky?

You can type. | I'm writing mine longhand.

One day I got the idea that a hobby | might help pass the time in purgatory.

Ironically...

in my solitude | I had created something...

that could only be used in concert | with another human being.

Yeah.

George Kraft?

Who is it?

I'm Howard Campbell, | your neighbor from upstairs.

What do you want?

I want to know if you play chess.

I didn't know I had a painter | living under me.

Where do you show your work?

I don't show my work.

Well, you should.

You been painting all your life?

No, not really.

My wife died four years ago...

and I had the choice of either...

coming to Greenwich Village to be | a painter or blowing my brains out...

so I flipped a coin, and here I am.

At least you had painting | you could turn to.

What does that mean? | You mean you lost your wife too?

Yeah. I see you in the hallway | and I say, "yes...

this man too | is a member of the brotherhood. "

- The brotherhood? | - Brotherhood of the walking wounded.

World's largest organization, and you | don't know it exists until you're in it.

You become a member when you lose | the one thing that gives life meaning.

And the thing that bonds you together, | that holds the group in one piece...

is the fact that the members | are absolutely incapable...

of speaking to one another.

Sorry. | I don't mean to rattle on.

How'd you lose your wife?

I can't speak about it.

Well, of course | you can't speak about it.

You're a member | of the brotherhood.

The day came | that I told him everything.

It all spilled out of me...

You know, I knew the war was over, | and Germany was going to lose...

and here I was an American spy.

My parents, | my boyhood in Germany...

about Helga | and our nation of two...

my blue fairy godmother, | the speeches, the code...

my capture | and my banishment to purgatory.

I didn't have anything to live for. | I lost my wife, I lost my nation of two.

George Kraft, my only living friend, | took it all in stride.

Yeah, but why doesn't | the government come forward and say...

"This man you're spitting on | is a hero"?

George, nobody spits on me.

Nobody even knows I'm alive.

Life continued unchanged...

for a while.

"The White Christian Minuteman | Supreme Court Demands U.S. Be Mongrel"

"An American Tragedy!"

Howard W. Campbell, Jr., a great writer | and fearless American patriot...

now lives in poverty and in loneliness | in a one-bedroom apartment...

at 61 Bethune Street | in New York City.

Such is the fate of thinking men | brave enough to tell the truth...

about the conspiracy of international | Jewish bankers and communists...

who won't rest until the body of every | American is hopelessly polluted...

with Negro and/ or Oriental blood. "

Maybe it was that lady downstairs... | Epstein's mother.

Why wouldn't she just | call the authorities?

Why would she send my address | to some racist newsletter?

Why don't you set the record straight? | It's time you wrote again anyway.

I'm afraid dead men don't | write very well.

That's not true. | All the best writers are dead.

That's the most truthful thing | you've said today.

Listen to me. | It's because while you're dead...

you have nothing to lose, | you can be completely courageous.

Find yourself a woman, | start writing again.

- A woman? | - A woman.

George, you better stop drinking. | My portrait's gonna look like a Picasso.

- Don't change the subject. | - I'm not changing the subject.

- Sit up. | - I am sitting up.

All right, I tell you what. | You get a woman, then I'll get one.

I don't need a woman. | I'm on fire for my muse.

You, however... | you're a mortal.

You need a woman.

- I already got one. | - No, you don't.

- Yes, I do. | - Had a woman.

- Past tense. She's dead. | - I don't wanna talk about this.

I'm only telling | you what you need to hear.

- If you're gonna speak the truth... | - Oh, God, did I hit a nerve?

- No, you didn't hit a nerve. I'm fine. | - I am so sorry.

No, don't be sorry. | Don't be humble, George.

- I'm abject. I feel really... | - No, you're not abject.

- Go ahead, talk. I can't hear you. | - God, I just...

I just shoot my mouth off, | and I...

I don't know... | I'm gonna...

One, two, three, rest.

One, two, three, four.

- Who is it? | - Howard W. Campbell, Jr.?

Who is it?

It's the Reverend Dr. Lionel Jones...

D.D.S., D.D.

I presume you received | our complimentary issue...

of the White Christian Minuteman.

It's all right, Howard. | I'm with friends.

Howard W. Campbell.

What an honor.

I feel as if my whole life | was leading up to this moment.

How do you do?

Please, allow me to introduce you | to my bodyguard...

August Krapptauer.

Vice Bundesfuehrer Emeritus | at the German-American Bund.

A great, great pleasure, | Mr. Campbell.

And my secretary, | Father Patrick Keeley...

former chaplain | of the Detroit Gun Club.

Words fail me, Herr Campbell.

Likewise, I'm sure.

- Could we get some water? | - Yeah, of course, of course.

The climb up your stairs was | quite an effort for our Mr. Krapptauer.

Might we bother you | for a glass of water?

All right. Come on in.

This is my good friend | and neighbor, George Kraft.

How do you do?

- Yours? | - Yes.

What a marvelous likeness | of our Mr. Campbell.

You've done a masterful job | capturing the jaw line.

Have you a background | in dentistry?

Dentistry? No.

Well, as one who's devoted his life | to dental medicine...

allow me to say that you have | perfectly duplicated...

Mr. Campbell's Aryan jaw line.

- Oh, I'm thrilled that you noticed. | - How could I miss it?

Are you familiar with my book, | Christ Was Not a Jew?

I could never find a copy.

Oh, that's too bad.

Father Keeley, make a note | that we must send Mr. Kraft...

an autographed copy.

In it, I reproduce | 50 famous paintings of Christ...

and point out that not one of them | shows Jewish jaws or teeth.

- I don't know what to say. | - Well...

I had to publish the book myself.

But what can you expect when | the publishing industry is run by Jews?

Oh, of course, forgive me.

I've been talking so much, | I almost forgot what brought us here.

What does bring you here, Jones?

A surprise for you, Mr. Campbell, | waiting downstairs.

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