The Wounded Man

Ughhhhhh... Cursed thieves! And they had to take my clothes too. I hope no one can see me. How am I going to pay for all that gold they stole? This was supposed to be the trip that put me back on my feet.

Blasted sun. They attack me after I pass the shade of the olive orchard. Figures.

Oh, look. It's a priest come to help me. Help me, help me! Over here! And he... walks over to the other side of the road to avoid me. Jerk. Stupid priest and their purity laws. Wait a moment! I'm not dead! I'm not dead! I can't die! I'm too young to die!

[Wiggles fingers and toes.]

There. I'm not going to die. You could still have helped me without needing a ritual cleansing. I'm still healthy. Er, relatively healthy. My rib cage doesn't feel that broken.

A Levite. He'll help me. That's it. Come closer. There you go. Look at me. Don't you feel the least bit sorry for me? And now you'll come closer and... hey! stop that! Don't you dare walk away! Don't you know who I am? I could have owned you in Jerusalem. I was the next big thing. You would have been honoured to wash my feet.

And now, this. When I'm a rich man, I'm going to hire some mercenaries and come back here, and then you'll pay. No one dares mess with me. Even you, Samaritan.

Hey! Back off! I've got nothing you want. I'm naked. You can't steal anything from me. Am I so low that you feel you can walk on the same side of the road as me? Oh, so you want to poke me while I'm down. Quit touching me! I'm a Jew! A great Jew! What are you doing? You're... putting me on your donkey?

What is this? Is this how people become slaves? I almost feel sorry for that Judah Ben-Hur fellow. Don't even think you're taking me without a fight. Take that!

[Weakly rolls off donkey. Samaritan pauses, puts him back, and continues on.]

Sigh. How am I ever supposed to recover from this? My business is ruined. All I had was on that donkey those thieves took. And now I'm going into slavery. Wait, what's this? Oh, he' s stopping at a Jewish inn! Save me! Save me! Yes, oh, yes, thank you, brother! May the Lord shine His face upon you for this!

What?! The Samaritan is paying for my stay in this inn?

[Stunned silence. The man is placed on the best bed in the house. Shortly after the Samaritan leaves, he is moved to the worst bed in the house.]

Hey innkeeper. Yeah, you. Keep ignoring me. I used to be something. Didn't they teach you in Yeshiva to respect the past?

I don't think I can take this. I was going to be great! I was going to be somebody. I don't want to just be some sheep-seller in the temple for the rest of my life.

Ah well. I had my run. The Lord gives, and He taketh away. He can take this too.

[Reaches for nearby sword, and attempts to fall on it. Innkeeper sees him, runs over and pries the hilt from his fingers; then returns to what he was doing. Man lays back down, dejected.]

What meaning does my life have? I am so low on the social scale that if I were to die, they'd throw me into some unmarked grave, forgotten for eternity. The priests, the levites, the merchants, the people who actually mean something in this world, they cross to the other side of the road when they see me coming, and avert their eyes.

I am nothing. I am a commoner. [Shivers in disgust.] I hate commoners. I am an object to be stared at, gawked at, wondered at in amazement. Hey, you, kid staring from around the corner: Boo!

[Child runs away screaming.]

Well, if I have no dignity left, I suppose I can make of it the best that I can, right?

Oh, who am I kidding?

[Crawls under the blankets and fitfully goes to sleep.]