I beat Cancer ... I hope :)

Who Princess wrote:

I guess it takes really badass drugs to kick cancer's ass. Unfortunately it sounds like it's kicking your ass too. :shock:
Yeah, and "call your doctor right away" if you can get to the phone while you're in acute respiratory distress. :wtf: :crazy:

PJ_ROCKS wrote:

Halifax2TheMax wrote:

Do you need a flask? Or is drinking before Noon frowned upon in your parts?

and the answer is, it does not matter what time it is!!!

Halifax2TheMax wrote:

Scene:
A saloon in a vastly remote location along the wilds of the Great Salt Lake. Wide rough hewn clapboards side the establishment, keeping the constant wind in check, while inside, stuffed animal heads decorate the walls, including deer, bear, mountain lion, jackelope and bighorn sheep, even the bartender’s trusty Lab, killed defending his owner while being attacked by an onerary and determined ram. Christmas lights behind the bar, sawdust on the floor, tobacco signs advertising smokes and chew and a jukebox in the corner loaded mostly with country and western, with a few rock n roll signatures thrown in for the out of Towner’s, round out the establishment. Three roughnecks sit comfortably around a small cocktail table in rickety Windsor chairs, easy with the history and age of the place, as well as relaxed in leaning back in precarious abandonment of the unstable furniture in which they rest their achy bones and ease their minds. Half full pint glasses, empty beer bottles and several shot glasses per participant litter the table.
Roughneck 1: “Have you heard of that badass down Salt Lake way?”
Roughneck 2: “Yea I reckon some.”
Roughneck 3: “No, I ain’t, figurin’ there ain’t been a bad ass since ole Mitt ran.”
Roughneck 1: “Well, shit, there’s this guy Rob, down Salt Lake way, who is one serious badass.”
Roughneck 3: “Yea? How so?”
Roughneck 1: “Well, for one, he’s kickin’ the shit out of some affliction called cancer. Thought it had him but woes no.”
Roughneck 3: “Ah shit, having cancer don’t make no one a badass. Salt Lake is full of fairies.”
Roughneck 2: “Damn right, having no cancer don’t make you no badass, ‘specially comin’ from Salt Lake.”
Roughneck 1: “Well let me tell you, this guy Rob, he’s one serious badass mother fucker and you know why?”
Roughneck 2 & 3 (in unison): “Why don’t you tell me and keep me from comin’ out of my suspense and burstin’ my brain?”
Roughneck 1: “Lemme tell you, this guy Rob, down Salt Lake way, is such a bad ass, he can live without his spleen! And damn, that ain’t never been done before.”
Roughneck 3: “No shit?”
Roughneck 1: “ Yea, and not only that, but when he has trouble breathing, you know like when you have too many smokes or bong hits and he’s in respiratory distress, you know what he does, huh you know?”
Roughneck 2: “Breaths in and outta a paper bag?”
Roughneck 3: “Pukes?”
Roughneck 1: “Hell no’s, he swims underwater in the Great Salt Lake for a mile and a half and then turns around and swims back to where he started, like that Olypimad fellow, Mikeal Phelps.”
Roughneck 3: “No shit?”
Roughneck 1: “Yea, really. But that ain’t what makes him so badass. What does, see, is he’s a San Francisco Giants fan and a firefightin’ guy. And he climbs heights in the freezing winter with blowing snow and ice and shit to get the satellite dish to operate the TV so he can watch his ‘boys play football.”
Roughneck 2: “Oh, sweet baby Joseph Smith Bob, naw, naw, for the sweet love of all my wives, why you bringin’ San Francisco into it? And that city of sin?”
Roughneck 1: “I’ll tell you why! ‘Cuz it takes one serious badass mofo to a) move from the City of Sin, after a 25 year career as a firefighter, burning down firehouses and eatin’ bad food an’ all, an’ seeing all that you see in that there career, an’ savin’ all those who you might frown upon or encourage to jump, see, an’ then move to the button down state o’ Utah, with its magic underwear an’ all, Salt Lake of all places and still root for your San Francisco Giants, I know, I know, San Franny ain’t been the same since the ’05 earthquake, but still this guy, Rob, he’s seriously badass.”
Roughneck 3: “I still don’t see it.”
Roughneck 1: “Have you ever seen his fairy room? Or see him drink Newport Storm? Or a ‘gansett Porter? Or get high in a tree?”
Roughneck 3: “I reckon not.”
Roughneck 1: “Well, his fairy room, with all due respect, is totally devoted to his Giants, seats from the ol’ Candlestick, jerseys, baseball cards, photos, ticket stubs, World Series memorabilia, we’re talkin’ this room sweats devotion. And pride. And he moved it from Sin City to Salt Lake, with permission mind you, but damn. That’s badass. And you know what else?”
Roughneck 2: “What else is there? I mean, besides kickin’ some cancer’s ass, an’ all?”
Roughneck 1: “He’s married. To a gal named Codie. And he and she are kickin ass. In a day and age of walkin’ away, when all you might do is want to, and carry it out, kick the dog, Gracie, a beautiful retriever, as old as the Sawtooths but loyal as ever, this guy Rob is laughin’ and lovin’ and keepin’ on keepin’ on and goin’ to shows and football games and travelin’ far an wide and and keeping those docs on their toes and bein’ an inspiration and all. I’m tellin’ you, he’s one badass. So what if he gets the chillies and wears a snuggy while on the couch?”
Roughneck 2 and 3 (in unison): “yea, I reckon’.”
Scene:
They down their last shots. Bar lights come up, the bartender gives last call, folks begin to shuffle toward the door. Yellow Ledbetter comes on the jukebox. The three roughnecks smile and start to sing along.
Roughneck 1: “But you really know what makes him a badass?”
Roughneck 2 and 3 (in unison): “Why don’t you keep my brain from being perplexed and let me in on your secret?”
Roughneck 1: “He waves from the porch.”

To be continued…………………