The Mammogram

(Written in mid-2008)

(SCENE: generic commercial)

NARRATOR: (overly enthusiastic) Not enough space in your body cavity? Tired of hooking and unhooking things every time you want to plug in an extra pancreas? Just want to rearrange in there? Then try our new line of external organ carriers - take the organs you want with you, in whatever you want to take them in - from functional airtight plastic spleen totes to stylish executive leather brain satchels. And for all those surplus organs, stop letting them lie around cluttering the closet - get organized and get in control with the modular in-closet stacking organ bin system! Available now in stores, and at tupperware parties!

(SCENE: the exterior of a hotel. BUSINESSMAN is walking toward the hotel, wheeling a travel organ case and talking on his cell phone.)

BUSINESSMAN: Yeah, I just got in - no, I - yes, it was fine - well, I'm going to go up to my room and unpack everything - hope I remembered the important glands. Then I'm going down to the conference, where I'm gonna check my liver - no, I won't lose the claim ticket again - oh, you packed a spare? -check my liver, as I say, and then get shitfaced, and try and pay one of the waitresses for sex. It's just business, darling, I - you did WHAT with my balls?

(BUSINESSMAN enters the hotel as MR. ZANE and MRS. ZANE, each carrying a large suitcase, come into view. They focus on a cardboard sign which reads "Clinic in Alley" and trudge into the alley to the side of the hotel. In the alley, MRS. ZANE continues out of sight and MR. ZANE stops in front of a lecherous looking homeless man sitting behind a cheap folding table, another cardboard sign taped to it reading "Free Mammograms".)

MR. ZANE: Hello, I'd like a mammogram, please.



DR. SQUALID: (in a gravelly, uninflected voice) Been here before?

MR. ZANE: No.

DR. SQUALID: Fill out some insurance forms?

MR. ZANE: No, thank you.

DR. SQUALID: Wait half an hour in an uncomfortable paper gown that opens at a vulnerable spot in back?

MR. ZANE: Thank you, no, just the mammogram.

DR. SQUALID: Of course. The clinic is free, but there is the matter of my payment.

MR. ZANE: Here you are, two banana schnapps shooters. (hands them over)

DR. SQUALID: Done and done. You can also expect an exorbitant, itemized bill in the mail in a few days.

MR. ZANE: You don't have my address.

DR. SQUALID: Quite right, well, just ignore it then.

MR. ZANE: I would have, anyway.

DR. SQUALID: And we would expect no less of an entity of sir or madam's middling stature. Now, on with the mammogram, eh? Lift up your shirt.

MR. ZANE: (lifts shirt) Only, you see, it's not really for me.

DR. SQUALID: I'm going to have to stop now, because on cursory examination, I would diagnose you as a 'man' - flat-chested, hairy, only two nipples - yes, you see, mostly its women who get mammograms, as they have more in the way of breast tissue...

MR. ZANE: As I'm saying, it really isn't for me, it's -

DR. SQUALID: I mean, of course I could just give em a squeeze, if it'll help you get your jollies, the sign does say "free mammograms", not "free mammograms for females only"...

MR. ZANE: It's for my WIFE!

DR. SQUALID: Your wife?

MR. ZANE: Yes!

DR. SQUALID: You're getting a mammogram for your wife?

MR. ZANE: Exactly!

DR. SQUALID: All right, then - should we wait?

MR. ZANE: For what?

DR. SQUALID: Well, does she want to be here, to watch me give it to you?

MR. ZANE: NO! (DR. SQUALID reaches to grab MR. ZANE'S chest) Stop that!

DR. SQUALID: Look, do you want a mammogram or don't you? Make up your mind!

MR. ZANE: Yes, I want a mammogram! (DR SQUALID reaches for him again) - But not for MY breasts! It's for my wife! It's for my wife's breasts!

DR. SQUALID: OH! Where are they?

MR. ZANE: In here. (lifts the suitcase up onto the table and opens it)

DR. SQUALID: Well, quite the pair, aren't they? Yes, let's just have a... Mmm, yes, feels good - no complaints here, and I don't think your wife has much to worry about either. (they laugh)

MR. ZANE: Thanks, doc, that's a relief.

DR. SQUALID: Why are you getting the mammogram for your wife, though?

MR. ZANE: She hates the squeezing - and it was the only way I could get her to get my prostate checked for me. (a bit further down the alley, MRS. ZANE is consulting another homeless doctor, who's putting lube on the finger of his glove and preparing to insert it into her open suitcase.) Oh - oh, that tickles just looking at it... OH!