Pump Up the Volume Page #3

Malcolm, have you finished

your homework yet?

Your father and l

are downstairs watching TV.

Why don't you come down

and join us for once?

All right, Malcolm.

Have it your way.

Thanks.

So, I don't know.

Send me your most pathetic

moment, your most anything.

As long as its real.

I want the size, the shape,

the feel, the smell.

I mean I want blood, sweat,

and tears on these letters.

I want brains and ectocasm

and come spilled all over 'em!

Hallelujah!

And now,

all my horny listeners...

get one hand free, because...

Yes, the "eat me,

beat me" lady is back.

"Come in.

"Every night, you enter me

like a criminal.

"You break into my brain...

"but you're

no ordinary criminal.

"You put your feet up

and you pop a Pepsi...

"you start to party,

you turn up my stereo...

"songs l've never heard,

but I move anyway.

"You get me crazy. I say do it.

"I don't care what. Just do it.

"Jam me, jack me,

push me, pull me, talk hard."

I like that.

Talk hard.

I like the idea that a voice

can just go somewhere...

uninvited...

just kind of hang out...

like a dirty thought

in a nice, clean mind.

Maybe a thought

is like a virus, you know?

lt can kill

all the healthy thoughts...

and just take over.

That would be serious.

That would be totally serious.

Yeah. I know that

all of my horny listeners...

would love it if I would call up

the "eat me, beat me" lady...

but no!

Because she never

encloses her number.

Tough luck, creepoid.

Always the same red paper...

the same beautiful

black writing.

Now, she's probably

a lot like me--

a legend in her own mind.

But you know what?

I bet in real life,

she's probably not that wild.

I bet she's kind of shy...

like so many of us,

briskly walking the halls...

pretending to be late

for some class...

pretending to be distracted.

Hey, poetry lady,

are you really this cool?

Are you out there?

Are you listening?

I'm always out here.

I feel like I know you,

and yet we'll never meet.

So be it.

Here's a song from my close

personal buddies back east--

The Beastie Boys.

This is a song

that was so controversial...

they couldn't put it

on their first album.

Add a little night light.

Well

Chillin' at the corner

this one time

Cool at the party,

you're runnin' a line

Smokin' my crack,

sayin' my rhyme

Countin' my pack

just to pass the time

Many young girls do some base

Her boyfriend Pete,

he was on my case

Took him to the place

Threw the mattress in his face

Got homeboy in his f***in' face

I just love

being the rap king of Arizona.

I don't know.

Drugs are out. Sex is out.

Politics are out.

Everything is on hold.

We definitely

need something new.

I just keep waiting

for some new voice...

to come out of somewhere

and just say, "Hey!"

"Wait a second. What is

wrong with this picture?

"Just take a look around."

Maybe this is the answer

to everything.

Wouldn't that be nice, huh?

"Dear Hard Harry...

"do you think

I should kill myself?"

Great.

Signed "I'm Serious."

And, of course,

there is a number here.

Now, look...

Hello. Serious?

Are you OK?

I guess what I'm asking is,

how serious are you?

Or how you gonna do it?

I'm gonna blow

my f***in' head off.

Well, do you have a gun?

No, I'm gonna use my finger,

genius.

All right, so, where's this

gonna take place, huh?

Right here.

Where is this alleged gun?

Do you have it with you?

Did you at least write a note?

You have a reason, don't you?

You're not gonna be

one of those people...

who kills themselves,

and nobody has any idea...

why they did it, huh?

That's why we need a note, pal.

I'm all alone.

Hey, look, maybe it's OK

to be alone sometimes.

I mean, I...

Everybody's alone.

You're not.

I didn't talk

to one person today...

not counting teachers.

I sit alone every day, you know?

Sit in the stairwell,

eating my lunch, reading a book.

What about you?

I hate that.

Now I'm depressed.

Now I feel

like killing myself...

but luckily,

I'm too depressed to bother.

Great. He's got the phone

off the hook now.

Rejected again.

That's OK, I'm used to it.

Terminal loneliness.

People always think

they know who a person is...

but they're always wrong.

Eats lunch on stairs.

Parents have no idea.

Mine had me tested

because I sit...

alone in my room all day,

naked, wearing only a cock ring.

lt really bugs me.

Everyone thinks they know

how a person should be.

Who cares how I should be,

you know?

ln real life, I could be

that anonymous nerd...

sitting across from you

in chem lab...

staring at you so hard, and...

Then when you turn around,

he tries to smile...

but the smile

just comes out all wrong.

You just think, "How pathetic."

Then he just looks away.

He never looks

back at you again.

Ah, hey.

Who cares? That's my motto.

Well, sleep tight, Cheryl.

Sleep tight, Miss Refinements.

Sleep tight, poetry lady.

Sleep tight, Mr. Serious.

Maybe you'll

feel better tomorrow.

Hey, what's a cock ring?

lt sounds cool.

How should I know?

Maybe it's a ring

with a cock on it.

But he said he was wearing it.

How much you want for it?

Five bucks each.

Like your school, for example.

How come it wins

all of these awards...

and yet students

are dropping out like flies?

Why is that, Mr. Deaver?

My listeners are wondering

about your participation...

What is this?

I don't know, sir.

Is that your tape?

Whose tape is this?

I don't know, sir.

I looked around, and someone

had slipped that on.

You know, people,

this dancing is a privilege...

and it'll be taken away

if it's abused.

You understand that?

What? What are you lookin' at?

You got a stick of gum?

"Blackjack."

You really as horny

as a ten-peckered owl?

Hi. My name's Nora.

What's yours?

Mark.

Well, hi, Mark.

Listen, I was gonna

cut fourth period.

You want to join me for a smoke

in the art supply room?

No, I can't. I gotta go. Sorry.

Sorry.

Boy, these damn tapes keep

popping up all over the place.

They were playing this

out in the alcove.

Who is this guy, anyway?

Every day there's more graffiti.

I don't know, but he's sure

turning the school upside-down.

Has anyone seen Luis Chavez?

He wasn't in my class today.

Mine, either.

Listen to this.

...a memo, written

by one Mr. David Deaver...

guidance counselor

extraordinaire...

to one Miss Loretta Creswood,

high school principal.

"I find Cheryl..."

Turn that off.

I have an announcement to make.

I have some

very upsetting news.

Last night...

one of our students...

Malcolm Kaiser...

took his own life.

For those of you who knew him...

there will be a memorial service

at Dempsey Hall on Friday.

I know it hurts.

It's painful to lose someone.

Six, seven, eight

We've got spirit

Yes, we do

We've got spirit

How 'bout you?

We've got spirit

Yes, we do

We've got spirit

How 'bout you?

You're the voice crying out

in the wilderness.

You're the voice

that makes my brain burn...

and my guts go gooey.

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