Dear Wiz,
I have to say that this training is really starting to work it's magic!
I mean, by golly, I think I'm starting to get some muscles! Hoorah!
And I can do a push up!
A stink'in push up!
I think I have reached a new part of my puny existence as a human. Not to mention I can really start to impress some of the ladies at my new school. I mean, I don't think you can even understand my giddiness about how I don't have noodle arms anymore!
It's the bomb! Wait, scratch that... da bomb!
And it's all thinks to you Wiz!
But I have to be a downer now Wiz and address your issue.
I love training I really do, but you look sick.
And not the good kind of sick when someone says, "Oh man that was sick!"
I mean the kind of sick that puts a loved one into the hospital.
I mean a dangerous kind of sick.
Wiz, you just don't look so good. I love training with you after school and you helping with some of my homework, but your face is pale all of the time and your cough is getting worse and worse.
Your walk is also getting terrible. I mean you have to use a cane now and you're just weak all of the time. You can't really stand up for five minutes to train me before you have to sit down.
And I know you wanted to hide yourself from me, the sick parts so you still look tough. I know you don't want to worry me. But Wiz you have to understand that I want to help you.
You're like my family.
And I worry about you. A lot more than usual now especially.
Please don't get worse.
Tell me what you need.
-Billy
YOU ARE READING
Yours Truly
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