Netscape

Cancer is cruel bitch, they say.

He never really believed in that aphorism, for he had no reason to. That is, until, the stomach cramp, and the week long diagnosis, which left a hole in his pocket, and a tumour in his gastric mucosa. He had had full years go by faster than that week. He believed in karma, and was hence at a loss as to how a fate as forbidding as this could lie in wait for him.

‘The cause has been diagnosed to be Helicobacter Pylori. It looks to be a diffuse adenocarcinoma.’

He never really believed in that aphorism, for he had no reason to. That is, until, the stomach cramp, and the week long diagnosisor to geography. Yet, the malady plaguing him was not the square root of pi or the name of the capital of Burkinafaso. And as with most people on the end of fateful adversities, a question badgered him beyond doubt. ‘Why me?’. A question asked by Jesus to Jews, from Galileo to Hawking, from Him to him.

After much deliberation and a jog down monetary lane, he sat down staring at his ink-fresh bucket list and a bucket of hot wings. Hell, if he had to go out, why not with a bang? Or in this case, a week’s worth laxatives.

‘-Settle dry-cleaner dues,

-Have McDonald’s make me the biggest Mac ever

-Fly to Milan to see lingerie models live

-Write a will

…

-Punch the diagnostician in the face

-Donate to charity

-Join Twitter’.

Of all the inked compost on the piece of paper, only one thing stood out for the ailing 27 year old. As a money man, he knew how to make lots of it. And in his profession, to give it away, meant that your eyes were bigger than your brains, or that you wanted people to know that you were a bigger prick than Kanye West.

So, a sudden bout of altruism, combined with the memory of his wife of four days yelling

‘ Money is your first wife. Go to hell. And take that bank of yours with you.’

(oddly ominous, seeing that Lehmann Brothers tanked merely 36 hours later), drew him to the second but last scribble on the list. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’ll give his money away, and spend the rest of his days waiting for death, and he’ll take that commie bastard down with him. He did want a Big Mac, though.

‘We thank you for your generous donation. Would you like to mentioned in our monthly newsletter, Mr…’

‘Anonymous, please. Completely anonymous. Helping people with money is all that I have done in my life. Cant see why I should blow my trumpet another day’s work.’

‘Philanthropist, eh?’

‘No, banker’.

He did join twitter, though. He gave every last penny of his away, cancelled all his bank accounts, gave up his social security and enrolled himself in a community hospice. All he had was his father’s watch and a cell-phone. He wanted to be the first person on earth tweeting a live countdown to his death.

So he waited. A week passed, so did a lot of bowels and gas, but no conspicuous development came his way. An apple a day, drove his patience away. Twitter kept him busy though. Reaching 470,856 followers in a week-and-a-half’s time was impressive. He achieved this Lindsay Lohan- Upskirt feat by harping about being on the death-bed, sending out moral epiphanies and cursing Oreo for his cavities. A cyber warfare on the consumer cookie industry, and three weeks later, he managed to shut down Oreo.

1,024,576 followers. Every day, he would flood netspace with wailings of his looming closure.

‘Am I speaking to Mr…’

‘Didn’t I tell you never to contact me again. Do you have a worse bulletin to give me? Did my dog die in the kennel? Did Lady GaGa come up with another song? Did they put a ban on cigarettes?’

‘Sorry sir, but on the contrary, we had some wonderful news. It seems as though, due to an unfortunate typographical error, one of our employees had switched reports. Your stomach is absolutely fine, with no trace of cancer. It would behoove you to know that we have wired the money for your tests back to your bank account. Think of this as a way to show remorse for the mental and emotional discomfort caused to you. Also, we have terminated the service of …’

Never had anyone had to disappoint a million people by saying he wasn’t dying. Never had anyone had the cruelty to take back money donated to charity. Never had anyone had to face forgoing all assets to a foundation trust which was revealed to be a scam, IRS digesting every penny of their equity and farting out laminated summons to all investors and donors.

So, he had to do a few things which would upset a few people. So what? He was a grown man and he could face adversities. So he took what he thought was the best way out. A rope with noose at the end, a chair, and a ceiling fan.

Cancer is a cruel bitch, they say.

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