I work with a guy named Todd who has a big tumor on his head. Sorry, had a big tumor on his head.
When I first saw it, I did what all hosers do. I said, “Hey guy, what the fuck is on your head, eh?” Nobody had asked him that before and he’d had it for so long, he forgot it was there. After a moment of repose, he said, “This reminds me why I’m lucky to be alive.” Apparently, Todd got off the train in a bad part of Brooklyn one night and some kids smashed him on the head with a pipe. They didn’t knock him out and he managed to get away but he could have been killed. He’s had the bump ever since. “That makes no sense,” I said, “If it was permanent, it would be a dent not a lump.” He disagreed.
The issue was still unresolved when I went to sign his copy of my book so I wrote the above caption in it. He didn’t laugh. I hurt his feelings. That night, he was looking in the mirror and he gave it some thought. “Maybe it would be a dent” he probably said to himself. The next day, he went to the doctor and asked about it. The doctor nearly had a heart attack and rushed him into surgery straight away. It wasn’t a “bump.” IT WAS A FUCKING TUMOR! The tumor hadn’t spread much because the bone slows it down or something but once they got him under, they removed everything, including a big chunk of his skull. He has a fucking plate stuck in there now. He wouldn’t let me tell this story until he got the tests back from his oncologist because it’s not funny to have cancer but today the word came in that he is 100% cancer free!
He asked me what he could do to repay me and I asked for $40,0000. He refused, so I asked him to kill someone for me. That also got a “no” so he bought me a bottle of nice bourbon. What a dick.
I realize this is a stupid and -for a minute there potentially very sad – story but I actually think there is a message here that is quite profound. When we’re all guarded about what we say, cancer grows. When we’re bombastic and free, the cancer is exposed. “Let a thousand flowers bloom!”