Version
COMMENTARY
ET CETERA
DISPATCHES
LISTS
FEATURES
CORRECTIONS
MAILBAG
REVIEWS NEUNER
OLEAR
RICHARDS
STERNE
MASTHEAD
CONTACT
SUBMIT
SUBSCRIBE ARCHIVES
LIFE IN VEIN
Blood from a stone
I was raised to be a good person. I was raised to believe that I am unique and wonderful. Last week, I gave blood for the first time. Though I have tried to give blood for many years, I have been denied for a variety of temporary reasons, not the least of which is that once the blood-taker angrily accused me of being feverish. When the crazy lady at work asked if I would give blood, I agreed, figuring they would turn me away again, and my reward would be a cookie and a heart-shaped sticker which would read, "Be nice to me, I tried to give blood today.
Oddly, I breezed through the Q&A. They did all they could to allow me to avoid confessing that I indeed had sex in a Gabonian prison in 1978 with an intravenous-using male prostitute with tuberculosis who suffered from "night sweats." So on I went to the gurney.
Soon enough, I was giving blood. I watched the man next to me; he was a cop, it seemed, as he was burly and had a badge on a chain around his neck. He had been tapped before I had, but I was amazed to see that my bag of blood was filling more quickly than his. I remained chatty throughout, in that "Look at how good I am at giving away my life's essence" sort of attitude. In a remarkably short time, I was through and treated to sugary foods and apple juice. Not once was I dizzy. I felt great. And I am, after all, A Universal Donor. That's good blood, selfless blood.
Since that day, I've been expecting a call. I am not exactly sure from whom it will come -- some prestigious hospital, the N.I.H., the President, J.D. Salinger, Pele -- but I know what they will say. The learned person on the other end of the phone will begin:
LEARNED PERON: May I speak with Mr. Richards?
BRADY: Speaking.
(This is less jarring than the grammatically correct yet somehow pedantic, "This is he," and since I am at work I should be less cheeky than to say, "Tis I.")
LP: Wow, so you really do exist. We just got the tests back on the blood you donated. Have you ever had your blood examined?
BRADY: Not to my knowledge.
LP: Well, sir-
BRADY: Please, call me Brady.
LP: It's just that, well, your blood is, well, it's really unbelievable-
BRADY: What? My blood is what?
(Shades of panic crease my brow as I suddenly think of my mother, and that perhaps I have some rare blood disorder that will bring on a painfully young and painfully painful death, thereby disobeying her mandate that her offspring outlive her.)
LP: You have Superblood!
BRADY: Please elaborate.
Suddenly another voice comes on the phone, excitedly.
OTHER VOICE: We ran it through the normal-
LP: Doctor, please! You'll get your turn! Get a hold of yourself! I'm sorry, Mr. Richards, it's just that all of us here are so excited to talk to you. We ran your blood through the normal tests, and then through the advanced tests -- three times.
He says "three times" significantly.
At this point, my boss strides in to the office purposefully.
BOB: Bradley, could you-
BRADY: Brady.
BOB: Sorry, I always do that-
BRADY (holding up a finger): Just a minute, I'm on the phone.
BOB: Sorry.
LP: Your blood is what We Have All Been Waiting For. The philosopher's stone of modern science.
BRADY: How do you mean? What are these advanced tests of which you speak?
(Groundbreaking news does not really excuse poor grammar.)
LP: It has been found that your blood cures blindness in children! It is reduces CFCs, it serves as an aphrodisiac for the vanishing Panda, and it dissuades people from strip mining and deforestation!
BRADY: Is that so?
LP: And that's not all!
BRADY: No?
LP: No! It provides common ground on which disparate religions can agree, and it serves as a conduit that leads us to believe we have established rudimentary contact with beings on a variety of planets in the vastness of the universe. Your blood actually appears to have properties which will allow it to serve as a cheap and pollution-free alternative to fuel, and it's completely renewable!
BRADY: All of this from my blood?
LP: Yes!
BRADY: Does it cure any epidemic diseases?
LP: No, there is only so much that one man and his blood can do. But do not despair -- can you imagine a world without disease? It would be unnatural and dangerous to the delicate balance of the ecosystem. As it is, there are already far too many people on this planet, and it would be a grave folly to try to cure the world of death. Not to denigrate the tragedy of losing someone you love to an incurable disease, but death is a part of life, and let us say that we can all acknowledge this fact, thereby thwarting any excessively optimistic people who believe in a universal cure for cancer or AIDS or West Nile and think the best way to express it would be in a letter to the editor if you happened to write for some sort of weekly cyber-magazine. The hard facts are that space on this planet is finite, and that the longer the people live, the less room there is to support life. It is contrary to existence.
BRADY: I see your point.
LP: By the way, ExistenZ is a very enjoyable movie, even if I cannot quite remember how it ends even after seeing it twice.
BRADY: Agreed. But I sense there is another reason for this telephone call?
LP: Yes. We want to pay you for your blood. You can give every eight weeks, and for each time you give, we will pay you one million dollars.
BRADY: Say, that's a lot of money. But there are so many other-
LP: After analyzing your blood, we have a pretty good idea of who you are. You should know that this single pint of blood you graciously donated will bring in such financial backing as to reduce the national debt to zero dollars and zero cents.
BRADY: Yes, but-
LP: And with your permission, we will reduce the debt of any number of foreign countries, excluding France.
BRADY: That sounds plumb terrific.
LP: Your blood ushers in a Golden Age. Are you ready?
BRADY: Sure thing. Let me just talk to my boss.
BOB: What's up?
BRADY: I quit.
BOB: Sorry to lose you. Would you mind talking to the team before you go? They really respect your input, much more than mine.
BRADY: I'd be glad to.
BOB: Also, allow me to offer you a generous retirement package that includes health care as well as eye care. You shall not have to pay even for saline solution.
BRADY: This is all good news.
LP: Is there anything else we can do for you?
BRADY: Well, I am a bit unhappy that my fingerprints are on file with the government. Can you guys remove that?
LP: Consider it done.
BRADY: I'd prefer it to be done now.
(I'm no fool.)
LP: Can you hold for a second? (We hear the sound of computer keys clacking and phone calls being made in the background)….Okay, it is done. By the way, your blood shows that you have a superb aptitude for dancing.
BRADY: This pleases me.
LP: We'll be in touch.
BRADY: Okay.
We hang up the phone. As I walk out of the office, a man from The New Yorker approaches me and asks me to be a cartoonist for their fine publication. I agree, and saunter on home. As I prepare myself for an evening out with friends, I realize there is a message for me on the answering machine:
PELE: Hello, Brady, this is Pele. I would like you to come play soccer with me.
Tomorrow I must remember to go out and buy new cleats.
By Brady Richards
013001