Originally performed at the live reading show How to Kick People
Even without the promise of breasts I took the brochure home with me and perused it. Team In Training was asking volunteers to participate in athletic events. The volunteers would commit to raise money by getting friends, family and coworkers to financially sponsor them and the donations were then given to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society to help find a cure for blood diseases. My Aunt had died of Lymphoma in 2000. I remembered on her deathbed that I had sworn to find a cure for Lymphoma. She said, “Can you do that?” and I said, “Aunt Ginny, I have a Bachelor’s degree in Psychobiology from a small liberal arts college in Pennsylvania. Give me six weeks.” Six weeks turned out to be a somewhat optimistic estimate. Curing Lymphoma proved more difficult than I had first assumed, particularly since I had spent the majority of my college years studying bat foraging behavior and not oncology. Nevertheless, since that day I have committed my life to finding a cure for Lymphoma … that and standup comedy. Some might say that over the past five years I’ve shown greater commitment to standup comedy, while others might argue that my career as a standup and my search for a Lymphoma cure have met with equal success. But my critics and nay-sayers would all soon be silenced because there in my living room, duck sauce dripping from my chin, staring at a gaudy purple brochure that I originally thought might have something to do with pornography, I knew that I had found my answer. Here was my chance to fulfill the oath I had made half a decade earlier. Through this organization I could help find a Lymphoma cure. I called for further information and was invited to the next Team In Training - Leukemia & Lymphoma Society info session in midtown Manhattan. After the session ended I went over to the registration table. I told them, “You can keep your cure for Leukemia. I’m only interested in Lymphoma.” They said, “But they’re both blood diseases.” And I said, “Fine, I’ll do both, but that’ll cost you extra.” They said, “This is a charity organization.” I said, “Were done here.” I signed up for the triathlon being held on the 25th of September and I left that meeting with a sense of determination. The next morning I woke up at 5am and ran until my lungs bled. You might think it ridiculous for a man’s lungs to bleed from running. That’s probably because you’re a pussy and never really pushed yourself hard enough. The next day was cycling. I hired a Puerto Rican bike messenger named Jorge to trail behind me. Every time I started to slow I ordered him to whip me with the heavy chain he used as a bicycle lock. At hit number twenty-seven, or maybe it was twenty-eight, something cracked loudly in my spine. Jorge’s face went pale and his chain arm went limp. I turned and screamed at him, “Don’t you ease up on me goddamnit!” Then came the swimming. I swam until I passed out in the deep end of a Brooklyn public pool. I saw a bright light and there waiting for me was my Aunt Ginny. I asked her, “Can I rest now?” and she said, “Have you found a cure for Lymphoma?” Then I was abruptly pulled away from the light. I awoke to the CPR resuscitation of a young male lifeguard. His lips tasted of chlorine and second chances. As I molded my body into the perfect physical specimen I started to view the rest of humanity with a general disdain. I looked at their soft, pink bodies and asked myself, “Do these people truly deserve my cure for Lymphoma?” But such existential hypotheticals were no longer relevant. The vow had been made, the die cast. With everyday I grew stronger. Pain, at one time a constant companion, had now grown to be a lover. I had the word “determination” tattooed on my right testicle and on the left … “sacrifice.” I was now more machine than man. I bristled with power and was driven by some ancient, instinctual fury. No hurdle was too high, no obstacle could stand in my way, but I found myself asking, “Is that enough?” I’d honed my body into a living weapon capable of cleaving through the hordes of unworthy triathletes, but what about those who were worthy? This was my first triathlon. Some of these people have done a great number of them. Some were professionals that made their living competing in such events. Would I be able to defeat these opponents or would they reach the finish line and subsequently the cure for Lymphoma before me? I decided that I would have to … take it up a notch. It wouldn’t be enough to make myself ready for this race. I would also have to ensure that some of my competitors were not ready. That was a month ago. A lot has happened since then. Forty-seven triathletes have been arrested by Homeland Security and are being held as suspected terrorists. A federal investigation is currently underway to find out how and why so many terrorists infiltrated the Team In Training Organization and Seymour Hersh of the New Yorker, who originally exposed the conspiracy, has been sent to jail for refusing to reveal his mysterious source inside the Team In Training program. Jorge, after six weeks of training with me, grew to enjoy whipping people with his bicycle lock. He ended up leaving his bike messenger job and now works full-time as a male dominatrix. As for me, the race is now less than two months away and my quest continues. I’ve grown a lot over these past couple months both as a triathlete and a human being. I encourage everyone here tonight to join Team In Training and help the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society make the world a better place. Just don’t get in my way. |