Cancer Tiger

I don’t like how society has removed so many of the quick ways to die.  What I mean is, at an earlier point in history you’d enjoy this little blog, then probably catch an arrow to the chest because some group of strangers decided they want your internet connection.

Point is, death sucked, but you didn’t always see it coming.  You ended on a high note.  I prefer that, I think a good death should surprising… and really embarrassing, with just a hint of “what the fuck?!”  Basically, I want people to feel bad for me, but be super happy they remembered their cameras that day.

Now, thanks to people smarter than us, we all live happy, little lives so we can die of cancer. Oh sorry.  Yeah, it’s definitely going to be cancer.  I mean, have you looked?  There’s a cancer for every thing in you.  So even if you dodge 99% of them, you just live long enough to catch that last one.  You’re likely ripe with a bunch right now, when was the last time you had all of your organs checked?  

There’s hope.  We’ve put years of research into learning what causes it — but turns out it’s everything!  Oh, and anything.  Yes, especially anything.

When we’re all in that giant cancer ward together, can I suggest we release just one live tiger to roams the halls?  He’ll be well fed, so he’s never going to eat all of us, but a least there still one last chance for a good death.  Get this, we name the tiger “Cancer”.  That way, as far as anyone’s concerned, we all died of cancer.  

But we’ll know.

Everyone in that ward will talk about how I got the worst cancer.  

"Holy shit, did you hear?  A 400 pound cancer just — ripped Steve apart!  Threw him  around his hospital room for a few hours like a rag doll!  Made a real mess of the place.

I’m pretty sure his last words were ‘I regret asking for this!’

You can’t even blame it.  Loose near all those people? It’s a wild cancer, what did you think was going to happen?”

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