Pachyderme (2022) Movie Script
1
A FILM BY STPHANIE CLMENWRITTEN BY MARC RIUS
INTERPRETED BY CHRISTA THEREPACHYDERM
We arrived before lunch.
My parents left
after the strawberry tart
and the pear brandy Grandpa served.
I'm nine and have my own suitcase.
I don't like it
when my parents leave me.
I'm spending ten days
at Grandma and Grandpa's.
Everything is neatly organized there,
logs by size, books alphabetically,
the thimble collection
in the display case.
The car sleeps under its cover.
Gravel in front of the house
to avoid mud.
The living room smells like wax,
the kitchen like bleach.
Tomorrow, we're going to the lake.
But for now, it's already night.
To go to bed,
I have to pass by the big horn.
Grandpa said it belonged
to a wild animal.
A kind of pachyderm.
On the ceiling,
I see animal eyes staring at me.
And when I turn off the light,
they still watch me.
To fall asleep, I don't count sheep,
I slay monsters.
At night, the floor always creaks
outside my room.
"What could happen to you?"
Grandma says.
"Nothing can happen to you here."
"Grandpa is fixing
the old floor outside. Sleep."
So I hide in the wallpaper.
I lie down in the flowers
and close my eyes.
"What could happen? Sleep, sleep,"
Grandma repeats.
Grandpa's big hands move
like strawberries
as he makes his bait.
One day, the hook got stuck
in my finger.
Grandpa joked.
He'd never caught such a fine fish.
Then he gave the kiss
that heals everything.
It didn't hurt anymore,
but the smell of his saliva
stayed on my finger all day.
This morning, Grandpa took off
the training wheels.
He said, "See, you're big now."
Usually, he's always
the first to arrive.
Today, he let me win
to make me happy.
By the lake,
there are always children shouting.
And on the road, squashed toads,
flat and dry
like prince charming's gum.
After snack time,
if the fish don't bite, I can swim.
When I forget my swimsuit,
I wear my underwear.
Even if Grandpa says
that no one will mind,
I don't really like it.
Grandpa never takes his eyes off me.
One day, a lady drowned in the lake.
Her hair was like seaweed
and her body all white.
Sometimes after dinner,
he takes me to the forest
to hear the animals.
Grandpa whispers not to move.
He tells me to stay quiet.
That time, Grandma was worried.
She thought it was cold
for a summer night.
The crackling wood sounds like
the forest.
It sounds like Grandpa's bones
cracking,
and his skeleton will warm us.
"What could happen to you?"
"Nothing can happen
to you here. Sleep"
Last night, it snowed
and Grandpa died.
I asked Grandma
why Grandpa always cut the rosebuds.
She said he didn't like
wilted flowers.
I haven't been back
to see Grandma much.
Last time I saw her,
she'd fixed the big horn.
It was long after Grandma's death
that I managed to drown
the pachyderm.
But the lake
will never be deep enough.
PRODUCED BY
Pat Anderson
A FILM BY STPHANIE CLMENWRITTEN BY MARC RIUS
INTERPRETED BY CHRISTA THEREPACHYDERM
We arrived before lunch.
My parents left
after the strawberry tart
and the pear brandy Grandpa served.
I'm nine and have my own suitcase.
I don't like it
when my parents leave me.
I'm spending ten days
at Grandma and Grandpa's.
Everything is neatly organized there,
logs by size, books alphabetically,
the thimble collection
in the display case.
The car sleeps under its cover.
Gravel in front of the house
to avoid mud.
The living room smells like wax,
the kitchen like bleach.
Tomorrow, we're going to the lake.
But for now, it's already night.
To go to bed,
I have to pass by the big horn.
Grandpa said it belonged
to a wild animal.
A kind of pachyderm.
On the ceiling,
I see animal eyes staring at me.
And when I turn off the light,
they still watch me.
To fall asleep, I don't count sheep,
I slay monsters.
At night, the floor always creaks
outside my room.
"What could happen to you?"
Grandma says.
"Nothing can happen to you here."
"Grandpa is fixing
the old floor outside. Sleep."
So I hide in the wallpaper.
I lie down in the flowers
and close my eyes.
"What could happen? Sleep, sleep,"
Grandma repeats.
Grandpa's big hands move
like strawberries
as he makes his bait.
One day, the hook got stuck
in my finger.
Grandpa joked.
He'd never caught such a fine fish.
Then he gave the kiss
that heals everything.
It didn't hurt anymore,
but the smell of his saliva
stayed on my finger all day.
This morning, Grandpa took off
the training wheels.
He said, "See, you're big now."
Usually, he's always
the first to arrive.
Today, he let me win
to make me happy.
By the lake,
there are always children shouting.
And on the road, squashed toads,
flat and dry
like prince charming's gum.
After snack time,
if the fish don't bite, I can swim.
When I forget my swimsuit,
I wear my underwear.
Even if Grandpa says
that no one will mind,
I don't really like it.
Grandpa never takes his eyes off me.
One day, a lady drowned in the lake.
Her hair was like seaweed
and her body all white.
Sometimes after dinner,
he takes me to the forest
to hear the animals.
Grandpa whispers not to move.
He tells me to stay quiet.
That time, Grandma was worried.
She thought it was cold
for a summer night.
The crackling wood sounds like
the forest.
It sounds like Grandpa's bones
cracking,
and his skeleton will warm us.
"What could happen to you?"
"Nothing can happen
to you here. Sleep"
Last night, it snowed
and Grandpa died.
I asked Grandma
why Grandpa always cut the rosebuds.
She said he didn't like
wilted flowers.
I haven't been back
to see Grandma much.
Last time I saw her,
she'd fixed the big horn.
It was long after Grandma's death
that I managed to drown
the pachyderm.
But the lake
will never be deep enough.
PRODUCED BY
Pat Anderson