Man, sometimes these college creative writing classes make me wish I’d been taken hostage by Somali pirates, offended to within an inch of my life, and saved by Seal Team Six.
That would put the razzle in my creative writing dazzle.
Let’s see; what have I got? Malignant cancer at twenty-six. Blah. Writing about cancer around here is the equivalent of writing yet another drink-drank-drunk tale of giggly good times and party trouble—mostly party trouble. Cancer is so pass'.