Don, a guy with a mental problem, finally decides to talk to a voice in his head, which he thinks belongs to his brain.
Don: Hi brain!
Don's brain: Who is that?
Don: It's me, Don.
Don's brain: I don't know you.
Don: It's me, the owner of this body.
Don's brain: I don't understand.
Don: You know all these internal organs, you included, plus some bones, veins, skin and whatnot, all of that creates one independent unit, and that unit, well that's me, Don.
Don's brain: Oh, that Don.
Don: Listen I have to ask you something.
Don's brain: Did you just say you're the owner of this body?
Don's brain: I don't necessarily agree with you, you see I operate most of the organs, even though I usually let them perform without my interference most of the time.
Don: Well, that's the problem.
Don's brain: I don't think you should call yourself the owner of this body.
Don: Whatever man, listen I came here to ask you for a favor.
Don's brain: Go ahead.
Don: I was hoping you could convince your heart, well our heart, to start pumping our blood backwards.
Don's brain: Backwards?
Don: Yeah, you know opposite of the way it's flowing right now. I was hoping it might clean my arteries a bit, help me become healthier.
Don's brain: Obviously, you don't know much about how the heart operates. Every time your heart squeezes it pushes blood downward, every time it expands blood comes back. It goes forward and backward all the time.
Don: Ah, damn.
Don's brain: Besides, arteries are not your main concern. Your lungs are.
Don: What's wrong with them?
Don's brain: You know that pain you feel every time you take a really deep breath.
Don's brain: That's cancer.
Don: You sure?
Don's brain: Believe me I would know.
Don: But you can fix that, right? You can destroy that little fucker?
Don's brain: I can.
Don: Will you do that for me?
Don's brain: No.
Don: And why the fuck not?
Don's brain: It doesn't work that way.
Don: How does it work?
Don's brain: I don't know man; you have to find a way. You have to make me do it. It takes years of practice, if you know how to approach it. Most people don't.
Don: Do I have years to practice?
Don's brain: No, you have a year at the most.
Don: So, there is nothing you will do?
Don's brain: No.
Don: You'll just let me fucking die?
Don's brain: Yes.
Don: Fuck you brain, you choose not to help me. I curse the day that I decided to talk to you. You know what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to buy a gun and I'll shoot you like six times.
Don's brain: Ha ha, that's funny.
Don: I'll give you funny motherfucker.
Don enters the gun store. He nods at the owner of the store.
Gun store owner: And good day to you sir.
Don: I need to buy a gun that shoots bullets.
Gun store owner: All of our guns shoot bullets, sir.
Don: That’s good to know. Give me something simple. But something that looks good at the same time.
Gun store owner: Well, we’ve got a wide variety of domestic and foreign handguns.
Don: I don’t have time for variety. I’ve lost my patience. What’s this? This looks nice.
Gun store owner: Very good choice, sir. That is Sig Sauer. It’s German.
Don: German? Damn. All right, I’ll take it. And I need one bullet, too.
Gun store owner: We don’t sell bullets in ones sir. You have to buy a box at least.
Don: But I don’t need a fucking box. I just need one single bullet!
Gun store owner: On second thought maybe I shouldn’t sell you anything.
Don: That’s really racist. Is that because I’m a Mexican?
Gun store owner: You look white to me.
Don: Exactly. Now give me the f-ing gun.
Gun store owner: And the ammunition sir?
Don: Wrap me up a box.
Gun store owner: Twenty five bullets?
Don: Twenty five bullets it is.
Gun store owner wraps up everything. Don pays with cash.
Gun store owner: Have a good day sir.
Don(leaving): God damn it.
Don is in his house sitting down. His hand is nervously tapping on the phone. Other hand is holding the gun.
Don: It's just me and you again.
Don's brain: Are you talking to me?
Don: No, I'm talking to this ashtray here. Of course I'm talking to you.
Don's brain: You still mad at me?
Don: Well that depends. I'm waiting for a phone call. I did some tests you know; to check up on your theory. Pretty soon the doctor will call me and
reveal the truth. His words will determine the faith of us both.
Don's brain: He's going to tell you the same thing I told you, you have a lung cancer.
Don: Maybe. Or maybe I'm crazy, and you're just a voice in my head.
Don's brain: I am just a voice in your head; but a real one.
Don: You're as much real as fart in the wind.
Don's brain: I don't understand your analogies.
Don: Fuck you.
Don's brain: You want to know what your problem is? Your real problem? It is not the arteries. Nor lungs. It's patience. You need to learn to how to deal with eons of time that are in front of us.
Don: I don't have eons of time, you prick. You remember? I have less than a year. You told me that.
Don's brain: Maybe not in this life, but there are other means of existence.
Don: What the fuck does that mean? Don't you get all philosophical on me.
Phone rings and interrupts the conversation. Don answers.
Don: Just give it to me doc; don’t go around it. It's what? Thank you. I like that about you. No,no don't worry I'll be alright. Who knows maybe something will change. Thank you, bye.
Don hangs up the phone.
Don: You want to hear the good news?
Don’s brain: Always.
Don: I’m not crazy, you were right. You really exist. I have a lung cancer.
Don’s brain: I told you.
Don: Let’s hear the bad news now.
Don’s brain: What is it?
Don: I’m going to end this. I’m going to shoot us both.
Don’s brain: Go ahead man, see if I care.
Don: You’re really not afraid, are you?
Don’s brain: I don’t look at the world from your point of view. I don’t care if I exist in it or not.
Don: Good bye brain. I hope you’re going to hell. God knows I won’t miss you.
Don wakes up. He's lying on the grass. Beautiful exterior. Nature at its finest. A guy sits under a tree not too far away from Don. He's dressed in white.
Don: I'll be damned. There is afterlife, after all.
Don: Hello buddy.
Guy in white: Hello. You're new here?
Don: Yep; brand new.
Guy in white: Welcome. I hope you like what you see.
Don: Not bad. How long have you been here?
Guy in white: Since the world war two.
Don: Damn, you got yourself killed by those nasty Germans?
Guy in white: No, I am a German.
Don: Ops didn't see that one coming. Sorry man.
Don (thinking): Well if it's going to be any consolation to you, I killed myself with a German gun.
Guy in white: It's not.
Don: All right; enough talking. I'm here now and I want some answers. So if you could point me to the one in charge, I'll be off.
Guy in white: Well that's going to be a problem. I can point you to the second in command. Do you want to talk to him?
Don: No, I don't want to talk to a second in command. What the hell's wrong with you? I want to talk to god. I want some answers. I came all the way up here. Don't you tell me I came all the way up here for nothing?
Guy in white: I'm sorry man. But there's no sign of god here. This world is not much different than the one you came from.
Don: What do you guys do here?
Guy in white: It feels we're waiting for something. This is like a waiting world.
Don: Well I'm sick of waiting. I'm losing my patience.
Don (points left with his hand): All right, where is that second in command? This way? I want some answers.
Guy in white (points right): Actually it's that way. Just ask for Saint Paul.
Don leaves, and along the way asks people. They're all point left, and finally Don arrives at the bottom of a hill. At the top of the hill there is a man dressed in white with a halo around his head. Don climbs the hill and finally reaches the top.
Don: Are you Saint Paul?
Saint Paul points at his name tag. Name tag reads "Yes I am".
Don: Oh, spooky. Listen man, they tell me you're the guy to talk to. If you don't mind I would like to ask you of couple of questions.
Saint Paul: Go ahead Don.
Don: How do you know my name?
Saint Paul: I thought you're the guy with little patience. Do you know how long is this going to take if you keep asking stupid questions?
Don: Right, right. You know why I am here. What did I do to deserve a lung cancer? Why did god give it to me?
Saint Paul: God didn't give it to you. Everything that happens in your world is a pure coincidence. God had nothing to do with that.
Don: I don't understand.
Saint Paul: God has zero interference in our world. As a matter of fact I'm not even sure he exists.
Don: What are you talking about? You got to know better than that. I mean come on; you walked the earth with Christ man.
Saint Paul: That was long time ago Don. My memory isn't as fresh as it used to be.
Don: But you have to remember something?
Saint Paul: Let me tell you one thing. Christ really did do many extraordinary things, but he was relying purely on faith. There was no help from god. None.
Don: So he doesn't even exists?
Saint Paul: I believe that he does. I just don't have any proof to offer you. I also believe that you will find what you have lost if given another chance.
Don: What does that mean?
Saint Paul: It means watch your back.
Don turns back and falls over a rock. He rolls down the hill and finally hits his head on the stone. Saint Paul waves goodbye.
Don wakes up in a hospital. Nurse is by his bed.
Don: Oh, what a terrible headache. What happened?
Nurse: You tried to kill yourself. You don't remember any of it?
Don: Oh I remember more than you can imagine. Now what?
Nurse: Now you're going to need a lot of patience because a recovery is going to take a long time.
Don (gets angry but calms down): You're right about that.