The Politics of Pain

[Derek and Charles run into each other on the corner of a sidewalk.  After some small talk...]

Charles, in mid-sentence: ...and that’s why I think... 

[Derek winces in pain, and Charles stops talking for a second.]

Charles: Derek, are you okay?

Derek: Yeah, it's... my balls.

Charles: Your balls?

Derek: Yeah, they just hurt sometimes.  It's a medical condition -- Spontaneous Testicular Agony, or STA.  Nothing anyone can do about it.  Makes it a little tough to walk, now and then.  The pain comes and goes.  It's not an uncommon condition.  Apparently 15% of men get it at some time in their life.  There's not a lot of research into it, but...  You know...  It's not lethal, so I guess people are researching cancer and AIDS instead.

Charles: That's terrible! I wish there was something I could do.

Derek: Well, that's kind of you, Charles... But, like I said, you can't do anything.  No one can.  There’s no known cure.

[A slight pause.  Suddenly, Charles gets an idea.]

Charles:  Maybe I can help!

[Charles punches himself in the balls.]

Derek, horrified:  What did you do that for?

Charles: Solidarity.

[Charles punches himself in the balls again.]

Derek, concerned: Stop it!  Punching yourself doesn't help me.  Cut it out.

Charles: I just want to demonstrate that I understand what you're going through.  You see, in politics it's important for people to band together, fighting for a common cause and...  Hang on, my balls aren't hurting enough.

[Charles punches himself again.]

[Some people -- men and women in business suits walk by.  Charles yells at them.]

Charles: People in pain here!  You're just ignoring them!  FTA, Frequent Testicular Ache, you assholes!  Don't ignore the truth!  When will you all wake up?

[And he slaps his balls for good measure. The people look startled for a moment, then quickly walk by.]

Charles, shaking his head:  Did you see those idiots, ignoring us? Ignoring the plight of FTA?  It makes me sick.

Derek:  Okay, first -- it's STA -- Spontaneous Testicular Agony.  And look... I'm in pain because of my condition.  I don't punch myself in the balls.  I'm just suffering.  I don't want to suffer.  I want to be free from pain.  You ARE free from pain, but you're deliberately hurting yourself.  Can you see how I'd find that a little insulting?

Charles: I don't understand.

[He punches himself in the balls again.]

Derek: You don't have to punch yourself in the balls to help me.  In fact, if you're not in pain, you're in a better position to help me.  When you're in pain, you're doubled over and moaning.  If you're not in pain, you can actually do stuff.  Petition the government, or help me carry groceries, or whatever.  Understand?

[Charles shakes his head and punches himself in the balls again.]

Charles, in pain, the last one was a little too hard: Solidarity.  Jeeze...  Ow...

[Derek, confused, takes a few steps back.  What is with this guy?  He looks at Charles more closely, as though inspecting him for signs of madness.  Looking down, Derek notices for the first time that there's a bear trap closed around Charles' left foot.  Based on the colour of the wound and the way the blood is all dried, the bear trap has been on the foot for a long time.  And it obviously hurts.  Clearly Charles has been walking around with this massive wound and trap for some time.]

Derek, flatly: I just noticed... You have a bear trap on your left foot.

Charles, reluctantly: Yeah, I do.

Derek: Does it hurt?

Charles: No, not really. [pause]  Well, maybe a little. [pause]  Quite a lot, actually, now that you mention it.

Derek: Shouldn't you get it looked at, or something?

Charles: No, no, no.  It's not a big deal.

[And then he punches himself in the balls again.]

Derek: Wait.  I don’t understand.  You see me in pain.  So you want to be part of the STA cause -- whatever that means.  So now you're punching yourself in the groin.  Meanwhile, you have this bear trap on your foot.  Shouldn't you be dealing with your own pain, instead of punching your balls?

Charles: Oh, the bear trap is no big deal.  Sure, I limp a little. Yeah, my left foot stinks of rot and stuff. But it's not as painful as punching myself in the nuts.

Derek: It looks real bad.  I bet if a doctor fixed it up, you could get better, not be in pain.

Charles: You don't understand.  It's not important.

Derek: Why?

Charles:  It's just my pain.  It's not interesting.  It's not part of a political cause, like your pain.  There are hundreds of thousands of men out there with FTA...

Derek, correcting him: STA.

Charles, quickly: STA -- something could be done about it. Nothing can be done about my stupid pain.

Derek: Well, someone could take the trap off your foot.

Charles: No, no.  You're missing the point.

Derek: What?  Are you afraid of your own pain, of dealing with it?  Is that it?  Is that why you're focusing on my STA and ignoring your own suffering?

Charles rolls his eyes and shakes his head:  Now, listen.  You don't get it at all.  You're starting to become one of those people who victimizes themselves.  Your balls hurt, I'm trying to help you, and you're pushing me away.

Derek: I'm victimizing myself?  You keep punching yourself in the balls!

Charles: I'm doing that to help you!

[He punches himself again.]

Derek: How does that help me?

Charles sighs: You really don't get it.  I thought you'd be more enlightened about this, because of your...  See, your pain is...  It's part of a social problem.  By embracing your pain, I can better understand it and better help you.  It's political.

Derek: Your being doubled over in agony is political?

Charles: Exactly.

Derek: Why doesn't the pain of your foot matter?

Charles: It just doesn't.

Derek:  And your pain isn't political?

Charles: Right!  Now you get it.

[Pause. Derek stares at Charles for a while.]

Derek: I'm going to take the trap off your foot.

Charles, scared: No!

[There is a brief struggle.  Derek tries to pry the trap off but Charles pushes him away.  Derek renews his efforts, knocks Charles to the sidewalk.  The two of them struggle on the ground.]

Charles: No!  Quit it!  Stop!

Derek, triumphantly:  There!

[The trap clatters to the ground, and Derek kicks it away.]

Charles: You bastard!  What did you do that for?

[Derek and Charles slowly get to their feet.]

Derek: You were in pain.  I thought I'd help you.

Charles:  And how does that help me, exactly?

Derek, annoyed: You had a trap on your leg.  I took it off.  What did you expect me to do?  Go out, buy a trap, snap it closed on my left foot, in solidarity?

Charles: Well, that certainly would have made more sense!

Derek, in disbelief: What?

Charles: If you had a trap on your foot too, you'd be showing some understanding of my suffering.  Empathy.  A bond.  A political movement could rise up out of that!  Instead, you just yanked the trap off my leg!

Derek: You really believe this nonsense?

Charles: It's not nonsense.  You just don't understand how politics works.

Derek, with finality: You're a lunatic.

[Derek walks off]

Charles, yelling after him: That's right!  Run away from the man trying to help you with your PTA!  You coward!  Self-victimizing son of a bitch!  Don't you want PTA to be cured?

Derek, from a distance: STA!  STA!

Charles:  STA!  That's what I said!  I tried to help you, and what do you do?  Knock me down and take the bear trap off my leg!  You jerk!  You idiot!  You political know-nothing!

[Derek is long gone.  Charles whimpers a little, feels his leg.  He limps over to where Derek threw the trap on the ground, picks it up.  He looks it over.  With a grunt he pries it open, then he snaps it closed on his leg with a clang and a crunch.]

Charles: Ah.  That's better.


END.