by Stage-4 Philly…
My dad died from cancer. My two uncles died from cancer. My granddad, too. So you can imagine my annoyance when I started feeling tired all the time, then coughing and wheezing and spitting up blood. No, sir. I wasn’t getting cancer, too. Not me.
In fact, it was right then and there I decided: I kick cancer’s ass! Still, my wife insisted I go to the doctor
I hate going to the doctor. In my opinion, it’s doctors who give people cancer in the first place. Seriously. Without doctors, there wouldn’t even be cancer. But I love my wife, and I agreed to go.
So yesterday found me at the hospital, in the office of some know-it-all cancer specialist. The only thing this guy was a specialist at was working on his handicap. Fucking doctors.
This asshole put me through a whole battery of tests. What the hell does that mean, anyway: battery of tests? Why not just tell it like it is: a long series of uncomfortable, expensive, unnecessary procedures? Putting lipstick on this pig wasn’t going to make it any prettier.
They got me on a treadmill, put me into a contraption that looks like a coffin, even hooked me up to the most expensive piece of hardware in the whole place: the machine that goes Ping.
After a whole day of prodding and probing, finally they let me put my clothes back on and there I was back in the doctor’s office. I had just one thing to say to him. “Don’t you dare tell me I have cancer. I kick cancer’s ass!”
“I see,” said Dr. Huxtable.
If he’s such a great doctor, I thought, then why doesn’t he have any hair? Why is he fat and why does he look like he could keel over at any moment? Ever think about that?
“Well, Mr. Brown,” said Dr. Jekyll, “I regret to say, you have cancer.”
That was it. I got up out of my chair, walked on over to the other side of the desk, grabbed Dr. Blowme by his lapels, bitch-slapped him and threw him to the ground.
As he was lying there on the floor, begging and pleading like a little girl, I shouted, “I told you, you sunuvabitch: I kick cancer’s ass!” I then proceeded to beat him within an inch of his life.
Fucking doctors. Didn’t I tell you? I kick cancer’s ass!!!
I Kick Cancer’s Ass is the latest in the Flashbytes series from worst-selling author Philip Loyd. This one, begun as just a joke at first and a sequel to Hooray for Hemorrhoids, now takes on a much more immediate and realistic tone.
About the Author
Philip Loyd loves fat chicks and cheap beer, though not necessarily in that order. Loyd has worked for Forbes and McGraw Hill, each time running for his life as if waking up from a nightmare. He dreams of one day moving to Hollywood and winning a Razzie. Loyd lives in Dumbass, Texas. PhilipLoyd.com
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