Pleasant Dreams
Victor Cerda, Jr.
Aaron opened the door to his four-room apartment, staggered into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, and headed for the living room. He tossed two rented videos onto a small, beaten-up table, and one of the videos knocked over an empty beer bottle that rolled off the table and onto the wooden, stain filled floor. Aaron removed the cap from the bottle in his hand and flung it onto a pile of cigarette butts that hid an ashtray. He took a long swallow of beer, lowered the bottle’s mouth from his, and sighed.
He stood before a picture of Adolf Hitler taped to the center of an enormous banner of a swastika covering the entire wall. He saluted the picture while rubbing the top of his bald head with the bottom of the beer bottle. He smiled as he thought how grand it must have been to be a soldier in the German army during the Second World War.
He closed his eyes and imagined himself in his fantasy room. As always, the windowless chamber was cold, damp and dark. His nerdy boss from the meat packing plant, a Jewish man whom he despised, appeared before him. Aaron smirked devilishly as he drove his right fist into his left palm.
“What do you want from me?” the skinny man asked while stepping away from Aaron, who was moving toward him.
“Your kike blood in that bucket,” Aaron answered, pointing at an iron drain in the middle of the room.
“Why?” the skinny man asked. He was wearing glasses and a tie. “I’ve always treated you fairly,” he said, backing into a corner.
“It’s not about fair. It’s about purifying.”
“Purifying what?” The skinny man began to cry.
“The Aryan race. You’re a Jew. So, you see, your blood won’t suffice,” Aaron wrapped his hands around the skinny man’s neck, flipped him to the ground, then punched and kicked him until he lay unconscious. He nailed the skinny man’s hands and ankles to the floor crucifixion style, using rusted stakes and a rock as a hammer. He smiled wildly as he dug his finger into the side of his boss’s left eye and plucked it out.
Aaron shook his head from side to side and awoke from the daydream. “Holy shit,” he laughed, rubbing his groin through his blue jeans. “I was gettin’ a fuckin’ hard on.”
He dropped himself into a tattered chair beside the small table. He placed his beer on the table and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back jeans pocket. He slid a cigarette out of the pack and lit it with a match that had been lying on the table. He flung the match and the pack of cigarettes onto the table, then fished for the remote wedged between the cushion and the side of the chair. He aimed the remote at the TV, pressing “POWER.” He flipped through all ninety-seven channels but found nothing of interest. He extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, forcing bottle caps and butts onto the table. He glanced up at the videos and remembered the clerk saying to him, “This video comes free with every rental today.”
The video he had rented was Schindler’s List, a movie he would watch on occasion for a good laugh. If it’s free, it’s gotta be shit, he thought as he picked up the untitled video and opened the case. The tape itself was also untitled. “What the fuck?” he said rising to his feet. He shoved the tape into the VCR and returned to the chair. He threw the empty video box onto the table, almost pushing off The Turner Diaries, his bible.
He snatched his beer from the table and took a drink. The first images from the video appeared on the screen. Lowering the bottle from his lips, he saw a picture of Adolf Hitler slowly materialize. “No fuckin’ way!” he shouted, and he glanced at the picture of Hitler that hung on his wall. It was the same photo. A deep voice roared from the speakers as the picture of Hitler grew on the screen:
“It is time for one Aryan race, a time without the filth of Jews, the ignorance of niggers and the stupidity of Spics. It is a time where faggots are hung before the innocent, a time where the straight white male rules the world. The time is now.”
The screen turned to black. Then four German soldiers appeared on it. They were hacking limbs off dozens of Jewish women with machetes. Blood from severed arms, legs and heads spit in every direction. “Chop them bitches up!” Aaron shouted as he leapt up from his chair with his fist in the air. Three of the soldiers toasted each other on a job well-done while the fourth, in the distance, kicked a Jewish woman in the head with the heel of his boot. When her struggling ceased, he ripped his gun out of its holster and shot her twice in the back of the head. As he returned the gun to its holster, he looked at the TV screen, smiled, and motioned Aaron to join him. Wishing it were possible, Aaron smiled sadistically. As the soldier in the distance drew his knife from his belt, the screen blackened.
“What the fuck?” Aaron shouted. He jumped out of the chair and pounded the side of the TV with his fist. “It was just gettin’ good.” He placed his beer on the table and picked up the remote for the VCR. He pressed the fast-forward button, but nothing happened. He pushed the stop button, but the tape continued to play. After checking the remote for batteries, he tapped each button with his middle finger. He punched the remote with his fist, then smashed it against the wall.
As he approached the TV, a white circle appeared in the center of the black screen. He stopped and said, “What the fuck?”
“TO CONTINUE, PLACE YOUR HAND HERE” appeared above the five-inch circle. He pushed the eject button on the VCR, but it was as if it had captured the tape and wasn’t allowing it to escape.
Sliding his hand down the front of his face, he retrieved his beer from the table. He stood in front of the TV and stared at the dark screen, wondering what the soldier in the distance was doing to the woman with his knife. “Can’t hurt to try,” he said, and he took a long swallow of beer. “This better fuckin’ work,” he said, placing his open palm against the white circle.
When his hand met the screen, the entire room was filled with an intense light. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from it. He tried to pull his hand free, but it was attached to the screen. “Let me go, mother fucker!” he shouted as he kicked the base of the TV. A jolt of electricity shot up his arm and through his body, as if he were plugged into a socket. Every muscle tightened and his teeth and eyes clinched together, and he gasped for air.
As the electricity subsided, his muscles relaxed. He began to pant heavily. He opened his eyes and found himself standing beside the soldiers from the video. “I must be fuckin’ dreamin’,” he whispered as the soldier beside him lifted his bottle toward him. Surprised to find the bottle still clinched in his hand, Aaron toasted the soldier and swigged the remaining beer from his bottle. “This ain’t beer,” he coughed, and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. It was vodka. “And this ain’t my shirt,” he said, looking down at himself. He was dressed exactly like the soldiers he was standing beside. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted, and he flung the empty bottle onto the pile of dismembered bodies before him.
Feeling something tugging at his leg, he looked down and saw a bloody Jewish woman pulling his cuffed pants. Her left hand and right leg had been severed off.
“Please, please end my suffering,” she begged. “I can take no more.”
To free himself from her grip, he kicked her in the face. “How dare you touch me, you dirty whore,” he said as he unbuckled the strap to the knife at his side. He bent over, grabbed her by her hair, and thrust the knife into her eye socket. She screamed and flopped about as he slid the knife in and out. The soldier, who stood in the distance, ran to them, knelt next to the woman, and helped another soldier restrain her by her shoulders. The other two soldiers cheered as Aaron sat on her chest and spat on her face. “Let’s see you try to touch me now, bitch,” Aaron said, and he sliced off one of her fingers.
A German general approached them, ordered one of the two on-lookers over to him, and handed him a folder. Aaron continued to slice off the woman’s remaining fingers as the general barked at the soldier. Aaron cut open the front of her shirt and slid the knife across her breasts. As he thrust the knife into her chest, he was pushed from behind and fell onto her. “What the fuck?” he said, pushing himself off of her. “Why don’t you watch what the fuck you’re doin’?” he asked as he turned around.
The soldier, who was summonsed by the General, kicked Aaron in the face, knocking him unconscious.
As Aaron awoke, he could hear faint voices shouting at each other in the distance. He was lying down, nude. He tried to sit up, but his hands were restrained above his head. He attempted to stand, but his legs were tied to the ground. “What the fuck’s goin’ on here?” he shouted as he struggled to escape. Like a fish trying to shake loose from a hook, he flopped around on the floor until he fell limp with exhaustion. Breathing heavily, he stared at the concrete ceiling and noticed the room he was in was eerily similar to the one he created in his daydreams. It was cold, damp and small--but it had one window reinforced by steel bars.
Five German soldiers entered the room through the lone metal door. They all looked the same to Aaron. Two stood on each side of him while the one who had kicked him in the face stood between his spread legs.
“What’s goin’ on here?” Aaron asked. “Is this a fuckin’ joke or what?”
“Admit it and your death will come quick!” the soldier between his legs demanded. He was holding the folder that the general had given to him.
“Admit what?”
“Admit you are a Jew!”
“A Jew?” Aaron laughed. “You think I’m a fuckin’ Jew?”
“Your great grandmother was a Jew!” the soldier shouted. “Admit it!” He drove the heel of his boot into Aaron’s groin.
“My great grandmother?” Aaron choked. “You got me mixed up with someone else. I’m one of you. I hate Jews.”
One of the soldiers to Aaron’s left spit on his face and growled, “You are not one of us! You are the dirt at Satan’s feet.”
“Admit it!” the soldier between Aaron’s legs shouted.
“I swear I’m not a Jew,” Aaron pleaded. “I don’t even know the bitch.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you have Jewish blood running through your veins.”
The soldier standing between his legs pulled out a knife and said, “I gave you a chance. Now your death will come slowly.” He handed the folder to a soldier beside him, sat upon Aaron’s lower stomach, and waived the knife in his face.
Aaron closed his eyes tightly and cried, “This isn’t real. It’s a dream. It’s a fuckin’ dream.” Feeling the cold blade slide into his chest, he opened his eyes and shouted, “This ain’t no fuckin’ dream!” He attempted to buck the soldier off of him, but that made the blade cut deeper. He tried his best to lie still while the soldier carved into his chest.
The soldier stood and spat on Aaron’s face. “Dirty Jew, portraying yourself as a German soldier. You make me sick.” He handed the knife to a tall soldier to his right.
Aaron looked down and saw the word Jew was carved into his chest.
The soldier with the knife knelt beside Aaron and sliced his swastika tattoo off of his left shoulder. He waived the severed flesh over Aaron’s face and laughed.
Slowly blacking out, Aaron could hear his blood run through a drain beneath his back and drip into a bucket.
Aaron woke as he felt his nose being crushed. The soldier who had toasted him earlier was alone with him, standing above Aaron’s head, smoking a cigarette. He removed his boot heal from Aaron’s nose and flicked an ash onto his face. He dropped to the floor and kneed Aaron’s head. He took a long drag from his cigarette and spread Aaron’s left eye open with his fingers.
“Please don’t! Stop!” Aaron pleaded.
The soldier pressed the hot cigarette into Aaron’s eye, which sizzled and snapped. Aaron screamed as tears mixed with ash dripped down the side of his face.
The soldier rose to his feet and stood between Aaron’s legs. He chuckled as he freed his knife from its holster and crushed Aaron’s testicles with the heel of his boot. He bent over, grabbed Aaron’s testicles, and sliced them off. Unable to bear the pain, Aaron passed out.
Gasping for air, Aaron woke. One of three soldiers who stood around him removed his hand from Aaron’s mouth and nose. Breathing heavily, Aaron pleaded, “Please let me go. I didn’t fuckin’ do nothin’.”
The soldier who held a gun aimed it at Aaron’s right foot and shot most of it off. He laughed as he handed the gun to a soldier to his left, who shot off the remainder of the foot. The soldier who covered Aaron’s mouth took the gun and aimed it at Aaron’s head.
“Go ahead! End this shit!” Aaron shouted with the gun pointed at his face.
The soldier laughed and shot him in the knee.
One of the soldiers poured vodka onto Aaron’s nude body. The alcohol burned like acid as it entered exposed flesh. Aaron wailed as the three soldiers kicked and stomped on him.
Finally, two of the soldiers left the room. The remaining soldier sat on Aaron’s shattered chest and forced Aaron’s lungs to collapse.
As Aaron struggled to breathe, the room seemed to close in on him. He closed his eyes and said, “Please let this be a nightmare.” He opened his eyes and found himself lying on the floor of his living room, feeling the full effects of the torture. Staring at the picture of Hitler on the wall, he breathed his last breath.
