The Kidney

When I was an undergraduate at Brooklyn College I used to hang out at a bar called The Jolly Bull Pub. The other regulars included a classmate of mine, a fellow English major, and a toothless old hag barfly. My friend would always flirt with the hag, as a joke, but one night he and the hag were both real drunk, and she ended up going home with him. And even more surprising, it wasn't just a one-night stand–it turned into a hot and heavy affair. This guy had fallen madly in love with the hag, head over heels. They became inseparable. Until she went into the hospital, that is. It turns out she needed an operation, a kidney transplant, and my friend had agreed to be the donor.

The operation was a success, and my friend visited the hag in her hospital room every day. Until one day, when she told him not to return, that she didn't want to see him any more. It was over, she said, she had been leading him on all along, she only wanted him for his kidney. Well, my friend was crushed when he heard this, and he just lost it, completely. He started drinking more and more and stopped going to classes. He’d sit at the Jolly Bull all day, cadging drinks from the other customers. He hardly ever spoke. And when he did speak, it was only to ask for another drink–except, every once in a while he’d begin to chant a single word, over and over and over, like a mantra."Kidney. Kidney. Kidney..."