Time Is Fleeting.
Here's more leukemia shit. And it's Bradgenta too... I honestly came up with this idea while trying to write a Forbidden Fruit-themed parody of Last Friday Night.
But this one's a little different. I'll let y'all see for yourselves...
Also, the nurse is based on Minnie from The Help.
"Lung cancer? That's impossible. I've smoked a total of three cigarettes and one joint. In my life. There has to be some mistake..."
"I'm sorry, Mr Majors. There's no mistake. Would you like to hear a list of treatment options?"
"Please..."
"Well, for you, chemotherapy would be the best option, the most effective at least, radiation would be less debilitating but chemo is almost 98% surefire, I mean, in your case-"
Brad began to zone out as the young woman across the desk ran her mouth about treatment options for the cancer that his body had somehow developed. Suddenly, his almost perfect world came crashing down in under five minutes.
Brad ran a hand through his hair, "So... when do I start treatment?"
"Tomorrow. We'll send you an email concerning treatment times and what medications you'll be on."
"Alright... thank you..."
...
"Cancer?" Janet squeaked as Brad stood in front of her, after he had explained the situation.
"That's the diagnosis."
"... My God, Brad, you kind of blindsided me..."
"Janet, are you okay?"
"No, Brad! You have lung cancer, do you know what that means?"
"Janet, I'm going to have treatment, I'll be fine, I promise you." Brad gently kissed her fiancee on the cheek, "I'm going to bed now."
...
The treatment room was a wide white venue that smelled vaguely of vomit and rubbing alcohol. Brad sat down next to a tall Polynesian-looking boy who was a having a loud and seemingly sexual conversation with a girl over FaceTime on his iPhone, a nurse stuck in a few wires and Brad waited.
After about thirty minutes, after Brad had zoned out once again and focused every last ounce of attention he had into creating a convoluted backstory for every person who passed by the treatment room, he noticed the newer patient who was sitting next to him,
It was a woman, she was short, delicate but still curvy body, with long red curls that seemed like they would fall out any second, she was pale, with heavy eye makeup and bright red lipstick. She seemed to be young, the oldest she could possibly be was about 29, and it looked like she had once been happy, probably before she got sick, there seemed to be a little spark of optimism left in her frail body.
Most of all, she seemed startlingly familiar.
Brad looked back at his lap when she coughed violently, holding a few tissues over her mouth, they began to turn red.
"What're you in for?" Brad inquired, she looked at him. Her pupils grew to the size of quarters, she turned her head,
"The free drinks." she replied softly.
"Oh yeah." Brad tittered, "Happy hour..." The woman picked up an emesis basin and began tying her hair up, as if she was waiting for the nausea to kick in. "I'm in for lung cancer, even though I've only smoked four times in my entire existence, weird, huh?"
The woman's upper lip curled in pain and she looked back at Brad, "Listen, you clearly don't remember me, so I think it's best we don't talk at all."
"Remember-?"
"Just... just stop, please..." The woman's machine beeped, a nurse came over and detached the IV from her wrist,
"Alright, honey, you outta here, is Columbia pickin' you up?"
"Yeah, she's bringing the car around."
"That some good news, suga', see you tomorrow."
"Bye." The woman whispered, standing up slowly, almost weakly, a reminder that it wasn't any average conversation. Brad tried not to make it obvious that he was admiring her ass as she left the room. The nurse glanced at him,
"What you lookin' at?"
"Oh... uh, nothing..."
"Please, chaayyyl, I know what you lookin' at. I can tell you ain't in here for prostate cancer, neither." the nurse giggled, "She sure is a looker, ain't she?"
"Well, uh, I'm engaged." Brad covered, finally thinking of Janet and trying to erase the feeling of turned-on-ness from his mind,
"Mmmm-hm. I hope she gotta man in her life too. She gonna need someone otha' than that drunk-ass bitch Columbia and that boy who dress like some... hoochy down on th' corner." Brad's machine beeped, "Ooh lawdy, you done, suga', all through your first day, you did pretty good, Imma see you tomorrow."
Brad stood up. And left thinking of the woman who had been sitting next to him.
"Janet, I'm home."
"Oh, hey, how'd it go?"
"Pretty well, I didn't throw up, which is apparently what chemo makes most people do." Brad sat down at the kitchen table and watched Janet make dinner for a few seconds before blurting out, "Do we know anyone named Columbia?"
Janet turned around, "You mean other than that atrocious dog-whistle whore from the Sex Castle three months ago... No, nobody."
"What about someone with long red hair and some kind of cancer? A woman, like, our age."
Janet looked hard at Brad, "Jesus, what is in those IVs? You sound like you're on crack..."
"I guess the medication may be screwing up my mind." Brad thought out loud. Janet gave him a come-hither look,
"Well, that's not all that can screw up your mind, sweetheart." she whispered.
And within a fraction of a second, Janet had successfully removed all her clothes.