A New Hope

There was a time when I could do anything or get out of doing anything. I think that time is over now. It used to be my crutch. It was beautiful:

"Hey ck, could you throw this trash in the dumpster?"

Me: "Umm, I would but I'm missing three ribs. You know I had cancer, right?"

Awkward silence. And then they would leave.

I could get into VIP rooms if I wanted to:

"I'm sorry, you can't go backstage, you're not on the list."

Me: "Hey, I've had five surgeries, they took out my gallbladder." I would promptly show them my scars. The bouncer would remove the velvet rope (I really wish I had velvet rope. I would have people carry it around with me everywhere I go. Don't worry - I'll pay them. With backrubs. I give good backrubs. But I would only allow people on the guest list to get through my velvet ropes. How do you get on the guest list? Well, it would be a complicated ranking based on good looks, personality, money, humor and the ability to do a really good cartwheel. That way, only really cool people would hang out with me. I think I could become famous for this. I could market and sell the personal velvet rope - sounds kinky, doesn't it? Well, it's not.) and I would be let in.

But I think my time is fading. People are starting to question the validity of my fragile health. I'm no longer as sickly as I used to be. I can run distances without getting winded, although stairs kill me. I hate stairs (why can't escalators be less expensive? And what the hell's the point of those flat escalators at the airport if people are just going to walk on through them anyways? Doesn't that defeat the point? Those people drive me crazy! Slow down!! I want to scream, but then I would be the crazy one, standing on a moving platform, enjoying the scenery). I can also play many rounds of beer pong without puking. So naturally, people assume that cancer is in my past and I'm "healthy." I guess it's time to move on.

I've contemplated trying to get another disease. Leprosy sounded unique, but I'd like to retain my limbs. Lupus is a joke, no one really knows what it is. Which is sad, because I like that word. I thought maybe alcoholism might work, but I'm sure people would just see me as a drunk. And I don't want to be associated with that word. But I think I could use glaucoma. I mean that's perfect, right? I could lose some of my vision and still get out of loads of work:

"Hey ck, could you take the trash out to the dumpster?"

Me: "Sorry, man. I have this disease called glaucoma. Ever heard of it? Yeah, thought so. Do it yourself."

I could get a chauffeur to drive me everywhere for free because I'm partially blind. I would wear an eye patch and make people feel awkward when they make some pirate joke and I tell them I have glaucoma and I've been wallowing in depression for the past year. The benefits are too numerous.

I just need to find a way to get the disease and go from there. I'll figure it out, but right now I'm too lazy. But for now, I think I'll stick to making fun of cancer and getting a laugh from people:

It's so funny because it's not true. And yes, I'm a heartless ass.