Just Another Cancer Patient

8 •Lacey•

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Not edited. 97 views and 15 votes as of 8/23/15.

•kaylee•

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I grumble and look at the clock. 9:02 a.m. I was confined in the walls of the room for the next week because of the yummy goodness war I 'enforced'. Unless of course I had to pee or go eat.

But of course, it was all worth it since I completed two of my bucket list items at once.

"I got you something." Zayn says opening the door at 9:14 after I glumly thought about how I couldn't even go to the gameroom. It's been a while since I talked to Troy.

He happily bounces in the room. Almost dancing. Now I may not be smart but he was acting to happy. Like someone had skittles injected in his veins. There was only one explanation.

Fairy God Parents! Joking. Or am I?

"You got laid." I stated without question.

"Bingo Lace!" He gives me an air high five.

I smirk. "Was he good?"

He starts choking.

"He wasn't good! I means there no dude. She was great!" He struggles.

"Could've fooled me." I smile and take whatever he has out of his hands. Crayons.

"You brought me crayons. How thoughtful of you. There will always be a piece of my soul connected to this beloved box of colored wax sticks." My sarcasm coats every word.

"You stupid ferret! It's for your bucket list." He says opening the hospital room window.

Oh. That makes sense.

"Thank you slave."

"Your wish is my command, master." He grins wiggling his eyebrows.

"You perverted pig!" I scream throwing a box of tissues at his head I had at my bedside.

"And why are you even opening the window. There's nature out there, tubby." I add.

"I know that Lace but I have no idea how burnt crayons smell so we need fresh air. Could you imagine the news headline being 'Two Mentally Challenged Teens Die By Burnt Wax Fumes'? I need to die a noble death like saving a Hooters waitress from the burning restaurant." He says while setting the stuff up from the Walmart bag he bought.

I snort. "You'll probably die by tripping over a crack in the side walk and choke on a donut you were eating or something. Oh and candles are made of wax FYI and we burn them all the time."

He glares at me.

So after he sets up an easel and I reluctantly get out of my bed to tape the crayons to the top of a piece of white print paper, he looks in the Walmart bag one last time.

Then he pulls out one of those cool fire tool things.

"Woah! I've always wanted one of those!" I do a little happy dance.

"A fire-gun-thinga-majig?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah. Who wouldn't want to burn things?" I grin taking it out of his hands and pushing down the button.

Fortunately for me and unfortunately for him, he was standing a bit to close to it and I think I may have burned his eye out.

He jumps back screaming and trips over the love seat I have in my room.