chapter 3: just one more problem…well, TU-MOR

so this is definitely not what i expected.  my night was supposed to end like it always does:  three or four playmates piled onto a shrine to the drunken stupor that led us to the rooftop pool in the first place.  oh wait, that’s the pain medicine talking.  not really, because my head STILL HURTS.  –even after the butt-shot of Dilaudid (capitalized because it’s not only a trademarked product but also a character in this screenplay of my life at this point), my head remained a malady-marred mess.  but at least it was now manageable.  and so there i lay:  in a bed of managed pain, looking around, bewildered by the night’s turn of events.  one thing i will say, though:  NICE ROOM.  hardwood floors.  a deluxe vanity.  fancy bathroom.  not too shabby for a boy from bessemer, alabama.  oh wait, i forgot:  i have a BRAIN TUMOR.  okay, shabby indeed.  still, if you’ve got to have a potentially deadly growth in your head, nice flooring

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