So, you’re still donating blood? Always the good Samaritan, Teal.
Yeah, only it’s not as altruistic any more, Lorry. I’ve gone commercial as a blood donor.
By realizing the true value of my raw materials I’m actually making some decent money while still doing some good in this world.
I thought you get like, a sandwich, a cup of coffee, and one of those badges so you can strut around acting little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.
Very funny, Lorry, but I’m in a project now. I’m on a private donor team. Frankly, I’m earning a full time salary.
That’s awesome? How much you make? Is this something I should be looking into?
Wasn’t it you who wouldn’t dream of giving blood, Lorry? Weren’t you the person who fainted just taking a blood test?
I’ve gotten past that. They can draw all the blood and shit they want now if I can just smoke a joint first.
Thank you, Teal. So, how much money can I expect to make?
Sorry, girl. It ain’t that simple. There’s criteria involved – big time. Chromosome graphing, genetic composites, GDF11 quotas, plasma purity. This is no drop-in shop. Each member of our team was screened from hundreds of potential donors in order to perfectly match our recipient.
You only have one recipient?
Yupp, and in his case the qualifications are even stricter. Our recipient, Mr. B, will only accept blood from females who are extremely fit, extraordinarily healthy – and, how should I put it – attractive in the traditional sense of the word.
You mean everyone has to be beautiful like you, so I wouldn’t qualify?
You said it – not me. And besides, absolutely no drugs whatsoever.
Weed is a drug, Lorry. There are seven of us on the team. Mr. B calls us his Magnificent Seven. He’s such a sweetie. Supplying him with blood is our only duty except for keeping fit, eating healthy and residing in his beautiful house – or should I say houses.
What? You have to live with the guy? Why can’t you just donate at a lab somewhere?
Young blood therapy is one of the most promising breakthroughs in gerontology at the moment, girl. That’s why Google bought Calico.
Never heard of Calico. And I still don’t know why your “team” has to live with this person.
Calico is short for The California Life Company. It was Calico who put me in touch with the professors at Stanford who in turn hooked me up with Mr. B. Mr. B puts us up in very comfortable conditions, feeds us fabulously, and takes us with him on trips in his private jet to the Caribbean and awesome places like that.
Okay, now I get it. The Magnificent Seven, huh? You’re balling this Mr. B, Teal. You guys are his fucking harem.
Only in your dirty little mind, darlin’. Hate to disillusion you but Mr. B is 78 years old.
Come on – those guys are the worst with their pills and shit. How many of your “team” go to bed with him at a time?
One. Once a day. We take turns. I usually do Saturdays.
I thought you said–
We give blood exclusively through end-to-end anastomosis, Lorry, and we do that in Mr. B’s bed. He does like to cuddle during sessions – he’s a very touchy-feely kind of guy – but there is no sex and a nurse is always in attendance.
What in the hell is end-to-end anamosis?
The word is An-as-to-mo-sis, Lorry. End-to-end anastomosis means transferring blood directly from one person’s arteries into another person’s veins, avoiding the need for fibrinolytic or thrombolytic drugs. It’s the original, natural and, by the way, the only truly organic way to give blood.
Eeew. That is so disgusting. I think I’m gonna puke.
Girl needs to smoke a joint even just to talk a little science, huh?
Pseudo-science you mean.
No, kiddo. Young-blood Therapy is for real. This is working. Take your ass off Tinder and Snap for a few minutes and check out what brilliant work scientists like Saul Villeda and Tony Wyss-Coray are doing at Stanford. And our team definitely sees the effect on Mr. B. He’s getting younger every day. There’s no denying it. It’s uncanny. It’s awesome.
Your Mr. B wants to live forever?
No. He’s shooting for 120 which Saul and Tony say should be a cinch the way he is responding to treatment, although many prominent scientists do believe that eventually people could live forever.
If everybody lived forever than either we would run out of room on earth or have to stop having babies. I think it’s a stupid idea.
That’s because you’re poor, darlin’. Surveys show that rich people want to live as long as they can while poor people don’t see the point of it.
Well you’ve got it soft and cozy at least, Teal.
Yeah, but it’s only until I turn 25 and then I need to find another job. 25 and you’re out. It’s in our contract.
That’s a bummer. Mr. B likes ’em young, huh?
Young-blood therapy is exactly what the name implies, Lorry. In truth Mr. B would do even better with children as donors, but there are legal and moral issues involved. Even if he could find what he needs in the Philippines or other places, it’s against his principles. He’s a man of high ethical standards.
The more I think about this the shittier it sounds. I think death is god’s greatest invention. Dust to dust. Out with the old. In with the new, is what I say. Who needs rich assholes like your Mr. B living forever.
I’d appreciate you not talking about him in that tone, Lorry. He’s a wonderful man and extremely successful besides. It goes without saying that if anybody should live longer it should be those who earn the right to do so. Would you prefer that bums like your lazy brother Leroy, or that fat horny dude who works at the Circle K – you remember? The guy who wanted to frisk down Sheena claiming she had shoplifted a pack of gum – is that who you think should be the benefactors of eternal life?
In a free-world democracy everybody has the right to live, Teal. Even my brother and that horny asshole at the Circle K.
The right to live, sure – for a while, but if you really want to put on some serious mileage you are going to need a hell of a lot of dough. At the end of the day everybody can’t have that kind of money. As a matter of fact, according to Saul and Tony, healthcare of the future is going to be so highly individualized and enormously expensive that even if you could afford some Young-blood therapy you would still probably get knocked off by one of those diseases you couldn’t afford treatment for.
So only the extremely rich survive?
Something like that.
Disgusting. A bunch of bloodsucking vampires – that’s what they are.
Ha ha. You’re just jealous.