Terrence the Tumor

The only thing that made me special was a growth that found a pocket in my body.

Ironically, I can seldom find a pocket or bag or crevice to store my possessions in. Oh well. Forever lost.

Poignant maybe.

Terrence grew as I did. Less so though.

But nevertheless he or she did what I did.

When I burped. Terry burped. When I laughed Terry laughed. You get the idea.

I guess Terry and I had always known each other, except we didn’t.

Until, unnaturally, our lives were thrusted upon one another. It was when the dick decided to latch on to my right lung. Don’t blame him or her. I wouldn’t have minded so much except for the fact it impacted on my survival. Two will enter, but one will leave. Gladiator style. There was no question. I would come out on top.

So I thought.

Old Tezza-bear put up a fight in the end.

But, slowly and extensive surgery later, we (I) won.

That crisp Tokyo eve, I bid adieu to T-bone Mac Daddy Tanty-Loins.

12cm in diameter with an unnervingly green interior.

I am at a loss.

Literally.

Terry.

You were my opus.

My tumor.

My everything.