The Ultimate Pain

Now Playing: Fiction
Topic: Early Stuff - Pre-College

He sat in class, slowly watching the minutes tick by. He was completely oblivious to everything, save the clock.

The teacher was explaining how “t” equaled x over Vo cosine gamma, but he could have been pontificating on how the Easter Bunny was not pink, but purple with green stripes. It was all the same to the student.

From the look on his face, the young man could have been thinking about a date on Friday, detention after school, or even joining the army. He had none of these things on his mind. In fact, the only thing he had on his mind was the clock.

In the primitive part of his mind, he knew –knew– that if he attempted to consciously think of anything else, it would be all over. No way of denying it, no way of helping it, it was something he had to live with. For the moment, anyway.

Every few seconds (years?), his mind would timidly endeavor to venture into a thought, and the pain would hit. It was a hurt which screamed at his essence, one which made itself known throughout his body. It would come searing out of the depths of his viscera, and he would quickly shut down all thought.

It wouldn’t be long now, and relief would come; he would be rid of the pain. Or, rid of the pain today. It would be back some time, and back with a vengeance. The pain now would be a shadow in comparison.

Now, even his thoughtlessness was breaking down as a shield. The ache struck out, flooding his entire body, a dam about to crumble under the extreme pressure of his inner turmoil. He was struggling, fighting his natural reactions, attempting to keep a placid façade. His face contorted slightly into a grimace, his teeth grinding and eyes half closed. He was losing the battle.

Finally the bell rang, echoing through his mind as it echoed through the musty halls, halls which would soon be filled with laughing, crying, yelling, talking and silent students. He would be among them, walking faster than most, his searing pain propelling him forward. If he could not make his destination in the next few seconds, all would be lost.

Weaving, bobbing and shoving his way through the throng, he finally spied it, then smiled with. Relief filled his body, his very soul.

He found himself humming as he entered the men’s restroom.

I wrote this in Tunisia in 1988 or '89; my attempt at humor and passing the time while in class wanting to piss. earthwulf