Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Dudes of Cancer: Monsieur September

The Benjy

As the story goes, JD had been harassing his younger brother for days and baby Benjamin quietly accepted it. And then, when no one was looking, he grabbed his biggest, baddest toy, and smashed JD over the noggin with it. That was the day the young sociopath who would later be referred to as “The Benjy” was born.

The Benjy strayed down the opposite path his loving parents had chosen for him. Skipping elementary school during the day, he occupied sleazy neighborhoods slinging crack rock. And in the evenings, he shunned his piano teacher and soccer coach to pimp out mostly young women (and some very old men) in the red-light district of Manassas. When his mom or dad drove to pick him up from his lesson or practice, he threatened potential tattletales with his now infamous symbol—inserting his index finger into his rear end (sexual orientation was a gray area for The Benjy). Urban legend has it that children who were shown the symbol twice were never seen again.

Gender roles were similarly confusing to him, as he passed on neighborhood tackle football games in favor of sewing a sarape—sort of like a Mexican cape. He loved that cape. The Benjy’s favorite middle school outfit was Redskins Zubaz pants and his sarape. You would think this would lead to endless teasing, but his anal symbol continued to terrorize would-be hecklers. The Benjy had a free pass to wear spandex in high school, and just in time, too—he would need his delusional super powers to defeat the bone cancer he was diagnosed with at sixteen.

Some say The Benjy’s disease was karma for all those kids who supposedly vanished in his presence (no proof currently exists). Others say that a nine-year-old simply couldn't have handled that much crack cocaine without eventually developing some kind of tumor. Though his doctors and family pleaded with him to undergo traditional cancer treatment, he declined. Instead, he gave his cancer the finger-in-the-butt, and miraculously, it, too, vanished.

The Benjy then opened up a crystal meth lab at a local Red Roof Inn. His goal was not money or a high. He actually desired a second cancer, in order to test his theory that a finger in the ass is the cure-all—just as some people claim extra virgin olive oil or Windex to be. Sure enough, cancer invaded his bone marrow. He had a second battle on his hands.

The Benjy repeatedly showed his cancer the symbol, over and over and over, to no avail. He was crushed, and nearly lost his faith in his superpowers. He began questioning everything—the law of gravity, the potential of his Redskins, and even the popularity of his Zubaz pants.

The Benjy conquered, as he always has, this time by giving his disease the continuous “finger,” so to speak. He is now disease-free, residing in Arlington,VA. Though still crazy as hell, he has abandoned drugs, pimping, and super heroism, trading his cape for Brooks Brothers dress shirts and ties.

Today, he celebrates exactly nine years of freedom from his first cancer. Next year will mark ten years, an achievement worthy of perhaps an out-of-town trip to Vegas or Huntsville, Alabama, an equally fun destination. If said trip is chosen, The Benjy will begin recruiting trip mates in early 2011.
author Benjamin Rubenstein preparing for friend's wedding

4 comments:

Lola said...

*like*

Lola said...

(yay, it works!)

Benjamin Rubenstein said...

It's fun being ridiculous in these stories. I need to do this more often.

Lola said...

Absolutely!