Scorched Redemption

Chen moved through the apocalyptic remains of Taipei, a city shattered by nuclear fallout. The streets, once bustling with life, now lay in ruins, suffocating under a blanket of radioactive dust and despair. Every breath Chen took was heavy with the stench of decay; every step reminded him of what had been lost.

A gruff voice sliced through the silence. "Looking for help, tough guy?"

Mei-Ling materialized from the shadows, her leather attire marked with the scars of survival. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, missed nothing.

"My sister was taken," Chen said, his voice barely above a whisper, strained with grief and fatigue. "I need someone with guts to get her back."

Mei-Ling’s laugh was short and humorless. "Rescues aren’t cheap."

Chen’s hand trembled as he handed over the last of his barter chips. In this new world, everything had a price, especially trust.

They navigated through the skeletal remains of buildings, their steps cautious and quiet. Mei-Ling briefed Chen as they moved, her voice a low murmur. "Wu Xing controls the trade here, deals in flesh and fear. We’ll pose as buyers to get in."

Surrounded by the remnants of the city, Chen was haunted by memories of his sister, Li Na. Her laughter seemed to echo around him, a cruel reminder of the joy that had been stolen from them.

They arrived at Wu Xing’s den, a fortress crafted from the ruins, radiating danger. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of iron and fear. The corridor was lined with cages, each a symbol of desperate despair. Chen's heart raced when he saw Li Na. Her eyes, once vibrant, now held a vacant stare.

"Stay focused," Mei-Ling whispered, sensing his rage. "Don’t let anger fuck us up."

Their cover was blown under the harsh glare of a spotlight. Chen’s first instinct was to fight, to tear down the entire vile empire with his bare hands. He surged forward, propelled by fury, his weapon cutting a swath through the guards.

Mei-Ling fought beside him, her movements precise and deadly. Together, they carved a path to Wu Xing, the tyrant waiting in the heart of his dominion.

The battle was brutal, each blow exchanged with fatal intent. Chen’s resolve hardened with every strike, his fear transformed into steely determination.

As Wu Xing fell, the oppressive air lifted slightly, the shadow of his reign ending in a spray of blood.

Chen rushed to Li Na’s side. Her body was frail, her spirit seemingly crushed, but at his touch, something flickered in her gaze. "Free... we... free," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread of sound.

Her words, simple yet profound, pierced Chen’s heart. They spoke of release, not just from physical chains but from the fear that had gripped them all.

As they fled the collapsing compound, Mei-Ling supporting Li Na, Chen felt a surge of resolve. The world outside was unforgiving, a landscape scarred by violence and loss. But as long as they had each other, as long as there was a will to fight, there was hope. Chen looked back once, not to gaze upon his past conquests, but to envision a future where such fortresses of despair no longer stood.

In the end, it wasn’t just about survival. It was about reclaiming the humanity they had almost forgotten. As they disappeared into the murky twilight, the first drops of rain began to fall, washing away the soot and ash, perhaps, one day, even the memories of their pain.

A Slice of Taipei Nightlife: Neon, Scooters, and Unexpected Turns

 “God damn it, you almost hit me," Chuck muttered under his breath as a wildly weaving scooter grazed his arm, the driver's betel nut-laced breath leaving a bitter trail. Horns blared all around him at the congested Taipei intersection. 

Neon signs flickered from the infinite array of shops lining Zhongshan Road - a full-sensory assault of sights, sounds and smells so distinct from the vast, hushed plains of his Iowa youth. Mom-and-pop stalls overflowed with indecipherable knickknacks that Chuck couldn't fathom anyone wanting.  

Sipping his Taiwan Beer, he made his way down the cramped sidewalks toward the night's usual destination - Rik's Pub & Grub. The raucous laughter and clinking glasses offered a familiar oasis for the city's rootless expatriate crowd each Friday night.

"If it isn't my favorite American farmboy!" Rick's jovial voice boomed as Chuck entered the smoky dive bar. "When're you gonna  finally ask one of these sweet thangs out for a spin?" He jerked his thumb teasingly toward a table of giggling Taiwanese women.

Chuck forced a half-smile, dodging the attempt at humor. It'd been over five years since his last date - a fact which stung more than he cared to admit some nights.

The normal commotion of expat revelers filtered in, but two voices rose above the din. Elaine and Jack, the self-dubbed "dynamic duo", were back from their latest globe-trotting escapades.  

"Chucky boy!" Elaine flung a tanned arm around Chuck's shoulders, warm beers clinking together. "You won't believe the trip we just had..." Her voice dripped with delight as she and the boisterous Australian launched into a vivid retelling. 

Tales of trekking through remote Lao villages, witnessing gorgeous sunrises, stuffing themselves with exotic delicacies - their words painted a portrait of unparalleled adventure that Chuck's stagnant life could never match. He felt a strange mix of awe and envy as Elaine's green eyes danced.

There were hints their journey was more than just wild trekking; the two shared coded glances and  pauses indicative of Deeper happenings left unspoken. But Chuck didn't pry. He had learned long ago to never question where their travels took them - or how they bankrolled these endless wanderings.  

"You're coming with us to the east coast in a few weeks," Jack interjected, tone brokering no argument. "Hualien, Taitung - it's gonna be epically sick, mate. No excuses this time."

One week later, Chuck found himself tucked away in a dingy Chenggong kitchen, downing potent snake blood wine amid the Raucous festivities. Caught up in Jack and Elaine's free-spirited embrace of life, he felt more alive than he had in ages.

Until everything went terribly, horrifically wrong.

Stepping outside for a breath of fresh air, Chuck returned to a ghastly sight - a man from their group lying motionless, a pool of blood slowly spreading from his skull. Elaine and Jack crouched beside the body, faces drained of color.

"We didn't do it!" Jack immediately sputtered as the police swarmed in, eyes wide with unmistakable panic. "You gotta believe us, man!"  

The dead man was Ming-Hui, a wealthy tycoon. And Chuck was being targeted as the prime suspect.

"Don't move, foreign scum," an officer barked gruffly, shoving Chuck against the wall as metal cuffs dug into his wrists. He was whisked off to an interrogation nightmare that spanned days.

"Where were you when the murder happened?" The grizzled detective Lee spat each question through clenched teeth, pacing the dingy room in spirals. Chuck pleaded his innocence, sweat drenching his brow, but Lee remained unmoved.

"I don't believe your lies," he snarled, slamming calloused hands on the table. "Filthy expats like you think you can waltz in and do whatever you want and get away with it.."

Time blurred together as the accusations mounted, despair swallowing Chuck. This cop seemed determined to make an example of him, the "ugly American", no matter what truths came to light.   

When all appeared lost, security footage from the owner’s of the house of the party surfaced - grainy footage capturing Jack and Elaine's frantic exit from the kitchen, hands stained crimson. A deeper investigation revealed the brutal reality.  

Ming-Hui was not only a wealthy tycoon, but also a powerful cartel leader who employed Jack and Elaine as specialized drug mules. They had taken a staggering bribe from a rival syndicate to carry out the cold-blooded hit on their boss.

Thoroughly shaken by his biased rush to judgement, Lee grudgingly exonerated Chuck. The same cop who had leveled threats of lifelong imprisonment shockingly became the regretful vessel for proving the Iowa native's innocence amid the sordid drug underworld.

Finally freed, Chuck returned home with his spirit weighed down by injustice and disillusionment.  But a promise to a philosophical Taiwanese met while in jail who had confessed to Chuck that he had spent most of his life in and out of jail gave him purpose: "Make every day count, for those who cannot." 

Drawing strength from those words, Chuck established a non-profit supporting those wrongfully accused abroad - a dire need made even more palpable by his own traumatic derailment. When hopelessness creeped in, he remembered the borrowed wisdom that selflessness can be the purest path forward.

Life's unpredictable brutalities had transformed Chuck. But they also fortified his resolve to fight for truth and human dignity, no matter how harsh the circumstances. If he could find light after being battered by such darkness, perhaps there was hope for others too.

Mischief in Taipei: Unmanned Troubles

 

The Epic Taipei Culinary Carnival

At the heart of Taipei's annual food festival, the air buzzed not just with the scents of stinky tofu and sweet pineapple cakes but with anticipation and laughter. Liang and Chen, both university students with a knack for technology and mischief, wandered through the vibrant stalls, their senses assaulted by the mix of sizzling woks, hawkers' calls, and music blaring from speakers.

The Mischief Begins: Drone in Action

Liang carried his latest gadget—a sophisticated drone rigged with a mechanism to drop water balloons, aiming for some harmless festival chaos. "Watch this," he whispered, his fingers dancing over the drone's remote control. They stood in a less crowded corner, a perfect testing ground. Strings of lanterns cast a warm glow over the area. With a sly grin, Liang launched the drone into the air, and moments later, a couple squealed as a water balloon burst overhead, drenching them unexpectedly.

 Escalating the Prank: Chaos Unleashed

Chen doubled over with laughter, drawing stares from nearby vendors. "Do it again! But let's go bigger!" Emboldened by their initial success, they maneuvered the drone towards a more populated area near the main stage, where a band played traditional folk tunes. Liang targeted a secluded VIP tent at the festival's edge, mistaking it for a group of high-spirited partygoers.

 Unintended Consequences: The Taiwanese Underworld Upset

As the drone hovered unseen above the tent, a silent blip in a festive crow, Liang's gaze fell on a middle-aged woman eating a skewer of candied fruits. Her face bore the weary resignation of someone who had seen too much, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere. With a pang of hesitation, he glanced at Chen, who nodded eagerly, oblivious to Liang's doubts. Liang pressed the release, and a cluster of water balloons plunged down, their descent marked by the shadows they cast on the canvas below. Inside the tent, however, was not a party but a clandestine meeting of Taipei's most feared underworld figures, led by Boss Wu. Maps and plans lay on the table before them, marking territories and new ventures. As the balloons exploded, drenching the mobsters and their documents, confusion turned to fury.

 A Mistake Realized: The Aftermath of a Prank Gone Wrong

"What the hell?!" Boss Wu roared, standing up abruptly. A former street thug who had clawed his way to the top through sheer brutality, he was a stocky man with a bald head that now shone wetly under the tent lights. His beady eyes, hardened by a lifetime of violence, scanned the area for threats as his underlings scrambled around, some trying to salvage the wet papers, others peering outside for an assailant. Unaware of the havoc unleashed, Liang watched with a sinking feeling as Chen erupted into hysterics. "Chen, I think we made a mistake..." he began, but his friend was too consumed by laughter to hear him.

The Confrontation: Facing the Consequences

A sudden, sharp buzz from the drone controller caught their attention. The screen flickered and went black—signal lost. "Shoot, I think it crashed," Liang muttered, his amusement turning to dread. "We need to get it back," Chen said, suddenly serious as he realized the potential implications. They darted towards the tent, weaving through the crowd. Liang's mind raced – a frantic patchwork of code ideas to remotely wipe the drone's data flickered through his thoughts, but each solution seemed more hopeless than the last. Meanwhile, Boss Wu's men discovered the crashed drone, its camera blinking innocently as it recorded.

Redemption or Ruin: A New Alliance Forms
"Boss, it's a drone. Probably just some dumb kids' idea of a joke," one of the underlings suggested, holding up the dripping machine. Boss Wu snatched it from the man's hands, his face contorting with rage as he recognized the drone's make—the same tech-savvy street punks who had humiliated him a few months ago. "A joke?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Last time it was a joke, we had half the Dongmen territory laughing at us for weeks while those punks leaked footage of..." He didn't finish, his furious gaze sweeping the tent. As Liang and Chen approached, they saw
 two large men stepping out, fists clenched.

A New Beginning: The Weight of Choices

The drone dangled from one man's hand. Realizing the gravity of their mistake, they halted, exchanging a glance of horror. "Let's just leave it. Bad idea," Chen murmured, pulling at Liang's arm. But it was too late. Another mobster pointed straight at them. "There! Those two punks!" The crowd parted, and suddenly Liang and Chen found themselves seized by Wu's men, struggling against iron grips as they were dragged before the furious Boss. "Explain this!" Boss Wu demanded, spittle flying from his lips as he shoved the drone into Liang's face. Droplets of water stained Liang's cheeks, but he stayed silent, paralyzed with fear.

A Plea for Mercy: Negotiating with the Underworld

Chen, the braver of the two, stepped forward. "We're sorry. It was just supposed to be fun. We didn't know this was...you." His voice trembled, but he held Boss Wu's glare. Boss Wu laughed, a harsh bark that sent chills down Liang's spine. "Thought my meeting was a festival, did you? Let me enlighten you..." He leaned in, his putrid breath hot on their faces. "I'm the boss around here. I make the rules, and anyone who crosses me..." His eyes narrowed meaningfully.

 Turning Point: An Offer They Can't Refuse

One of Wu's men tapped rapidly on a laptop, scanning the drone's footage. "It's recorded, Boss. Got everything." Silence hung heavy as a guillotine's blade. Liang felt his heart pounding in his ears, each ragged breath torturous as he waited for the axe to fall. Then, a tremulous voice—his own. "I can help you." Boss Wu raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Oh? And why would I want anything from some snot-nosed punk who just soaked me in water?" 

 Liang's Redemption: Proving His Worth

"Because I'm good," Liang stated, trying to inject confidence into his tone. "I mean, really good with tech. Better than your guys, I'd bet." He swallowed hard, pushing past his fear. "I can make sure nothing like this happens again. Enhance all your security, cover your tracks. Make it completely hacker-proof." Boss Wu considered this, snapping his fingers at one of his men who began pulling up files on a tablet. As images of sophisticated encryption code flickered across the screen, Boss Wu grunted. "Could be useful..."

High Stakes: A New Role in the Underworld

He fixed Liang with a piercing stare. "You got one chance, punk. Screw this up, and it'll be more than just water you're soaked in." Liang nodded, his throat tight. Chen watched, brow furrowed with worry, as they were led to a small room crammed with high-tech surveillance equipment. Liang's eyes widened at the opportunity laid before him. He worked swiftly, his mind whirring as he mapped out new protocols—complex encryption matrixes, multi-layered firewalls, dummy traps for tracers. He intercepted incoming video feeds, rerouting them through "ghost" servers before they hit the main system.

A New Beginning: Securing the Future

He explained each step to Boss Wu's dubious tech team, displaying a depth of knowledge that slowly earned their grudging respect, and even a hint of awe. Hours passed as Liang implemented the last of his enhancements, fine-tuning the systems. He leaned back, fixing Boss Wu with an expectant look. "Try it now. Anything going in or out, you'll know—source, location, everything. And good luck trying to hack it." Sure enough, as Boss Wu's team ran test breaches, every single one was detected and neutralized within seconds, with automatic alerts and backtraces.

 Unexpected Outcomes: Walking a Tightrope

For the first time that night, Boss Wu's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Not bad, kid." He glanced at the incriminating drone footage that was now under impenetrable encryption. "Consider your slate cleaned, for this stunt anyway." His eyes hardened. "But you're on my radar now, punk. Make one wrong move, and all that fancy coding won't save you from ending up in the river." With a curt nod, he dismissed them.

Reflections: The Weight of Consequences

As Liang and Chen emerged from the tent into the night, the festival laughter rang hollow. They walked in silence back through the vibrant stalls, the joyous music and delicious aromas now seeming discordant against the gravity of what had just transpired. "Never again, Liang. No more pranks," Chen muttered as they passed a stall selling lanterns, their warm glow casting flickering shadows across his troubled face. "This went way too far."

 A New Chapter: Liang's Moral Dilemma

Liang nodded in solemn agreement, the weight of the night's events settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. "You're right. Let's just stick to the labs from now on." His mind still buzzed with the thrill of coding under pressure, the rush of putting his skills to the ultimate test. But that thrill was tainted by a nagging unease, a sense that he had peered into a world better left unexplored. They parted ways at the metro station, each lost in their own troubled thoughts about the fine line between games and deadly reality. 

As Liang rode the train back to his apartment, the city lights blurred past the window like a flickering reminder of how easily a spark of mischief could ignite into an inferno. Back in his room, Liang powered down his computer, the code from earlier already fading from his mind as he wrestled with bigger ethical quandaries. What did it say about him that he had impressed one of the city's most dangerous criminals? Was protecting the innocent always worth coding for crooks? He knew one thing for certain - in Taipei's shadowy underworld, there were always bigger games being played, with higher stakes than a few water balloons. And now, like it or not, he was a player too. As he lay awake that night, Liang couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a dark new chapter in his life. One where talent and morality didn't always align.

How America’s Newest Progressive Religion Was Born & Its 9 Advantages

 A  white unemployed man named Thad , who describes his own political beliefs as very progressive- transformed his life last month. He went from a pot-smoking loser, to the father of an extremely progressive religion. This change came after a realization that how he won a video game could make him filthy rich.

The dramatic reform began on a Friday afternoon,  in San Francisco. Thad was on a 13 hour bender of marijuana edibles and X-Box. He was losing 3-2 at Fifa Soccer as Team USA, to team France.  In a desperate attempt to make a comeback, Thad dropped to his hands and knees. He incoherently mumbled a prayer, "I really wanna win. Come on, Man. "

After the prayer, the game quickly swung in Thad's favor. First, he was awarded a phantom penalty kick which tied up the game during the final minute. With one second on the clock, his opponent kicked the ball into his own net to put him ahead, 4-3.

The incoherent mumbling coupled  with the random, "Come on, Man ," sparked an idea. This reminded him of a man that was very nearly his own God and savior, the great Joe Biden. 

From there, he thought of the best possible way to turn this into a money-making opportunity.  It clicked. He could start a religion called the Joe Biden Movement or JBM.

In  one month,  the movement  gained  all but one of San Francisco‘s 873, 324 residents as followers on Tik-Tok. Fox News interviewed the one remaining S.F. resident who is not yet  a Tik～Tok follower or a  JBM follor. His name is  Wilbur.  He told Fox News correspondent Tucker Carlson,

"Do I look dumber than a kid licking an electrical socket to you? 

"No Sir, you don’t look anything like the Establishment. Please, go on."

"Tik-Tok only has 2 things. "

"First thing  is idiots  who have never left their mom's basement talking  about why America is broken," 

"Second thing  is girls dancing in front of their bathroom mirror ?"

Tucker laughed. 

"Only a tool would watch that, Tucker？“

Word of an old white man daring to say that Tik-Tok was not a viable source of information consumption for the entire planet got back to Thad. This infuriated him so much that he started a hash tag that is now going viral, #cancelwilbur.

After the Hashtag was started, one of Wilbur's teachers from forty years back came out with a shocking revelation.It was truly horrifying.  Wilbur once showed a bad attitude during a lesson on Square Dancing in P.E. Class.

A month passed quicker than a socket licker could fail the Science exam,  and the JBM is on pace to surpass Christianity as the most popular Religion in America.  From this writer's perspective,  these are the nine advantages of the JBM.

1.）Say Goodbye To Easter Sunday Mass, & Hello to Free Crack

Easter in the Catholic religion is all about God's son, Jesus, and his incredible journey where he died for our sins on the cross.  The leader of the JBM decided in true Progressive spirit to honor the most terrible man alive, the big guy's son, Hunter Biden.

While Jesus valued love and forgiveness,  Hunter has also lead a tirelessly passionate and devout life in chasing after the thing most valuable to him, Crack .

 

Thad  brokered a deal as shady as some of Hunter's deals with Ukranian oil companies. Now,  the crack dealers  have agreed to offer all products free of charge to JBM followers.

2.）Hunter's Doctrine

From the Koran to the Bible, all religions seem to have left behind some dusty old book for its followers to guide their lives The leader determined that this new religion also needed a Good Book. He is calling it Hunter‘s Doctrine.

In a very progressive move even for Thad , he chose twelve of Hunter‘s disciples to record his most prominent teachings while writing the book. His chosen disciples happened to be twelve of Hunter's favorite prostitutes. 

The most popular section to date is how to get your elderly father to wire you tens of thousands of dollars for Crack. (READ MORE)

3.）Automatic Admittance Into Heaven For HyperOsmiacs  

We have all seen the big guy’s off-the-charts-creepy hairsniffing escapades.  Thad declared that Joe does this because he is affected by a rare condition of called hyperosmia.

Hyperosmia is a condition where people have the ability to pick up the subtlest of odors. The JBM Leader has declared that JB sniffs hair creepier than a child molester drives a van through the park, because he is doing God‘s work. 

Hyperosmia sufferers have been granted automatic admittance into the pearly gates of Heaven since the big guy suffered so much scrutiny throughout his political career  just for doing God‘s work. 

If you suffer from this condition,  you can get as creepy as you like. So, sniff up the perfumes and lady farts however much you want, because you got a guaranteed pass to Heaven

4.）Simplification  of  the prayer system

JBM followers don't need to worry about time-consuming Christian prayers such as the Hail Mary. Whether you are looking for a large bribe from the Chinese government,  or forgiveness for millions of dollars in tax fraud JBM followers only need to cross their cross their hands and say, " I need ____ Come on, Man,"The movement urges followers to say your prayers before 8 p.m., because that's when the Big Guy hits the rack.

Many of the very progressives are very happy about this time-saving component of the religion. After a school shooting, now they can save 9 characters on their tweets by writing,  "COME ON MAN," instead of , “Thought and prayers.“

5.Only One Commandment-  Catholic School attendees may forgo the need to spend countless hours of  tediously memorizing all ten commandments during the beginnings of their religious studies. The JBM  has streamlined this process into one easy to remember commandment. It makes it even easier to remember because it is the one thing the Big Guy does best, "Blame thy neighbor for EVERY THING." 

For example,  a man in San Francisco didn't show up for his daughter's dance recital that she so vehemently demanded that he not skip out on. He came home later that night to see his beautiful daughter Alexa crying hysterically at the door. He only needed to think what did Biden do when gas prices hit record prices. "Oh, he blamed oil companies.  Got it. I can blame her mother. " Problem solved!

6.）Less scary Hell Forget about all that talk of burning in hell for eternity just because you said a few curse words. In the JB religion,  you only have to fear being forced to face off against JB's biggest enemy - stairs. That's right. Hell in the JB Religion is an eternal walk up stairs. For you hikers out there, feel free to curse, cheat,  and steal, all you want with only an eternity of stairs climbing to pay for your sins.

7. ）The Confession Secret- They don't tell you this until after you have been formally accepted into the religion.  This religion has a very progressive ideology for its Confession policy. 

First of all, you don’t need to drive down to your local murthy-smelling booth on Saturday morning.  

Now, you can just hop on zoom, and they have a Zoom background of Joe creepily whiffing up a young 12 year old's hair just to remind you that not even the big guy is perfect.

Next, instead of spending several hours on a Saturday  waiting to tell the priest about all your pre-marital sex, drug use, and excessive porn-binging, you can simply just pick your most heinous sin, and make a promise to the priest  to turn in your gas-guzzling vehicle to go electric in exchange for making this sin.

For each additional sin, you can be forgiven by calling up friends and pestering them into making a promise to get an electric car. The best part about this is, since Joey B. never delivers on a promise, you don't need to either. 

If you simply agree that you will one day do the exchange, as the great JB would say, "You're good, Man.“

8.)The Abolishment Of The Sin Of Anger- 

The Bible says in Ephesians 4:26-27, "Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil. Allowing the seed of anger to fester within us is giving the devil a foothold in our relationships."

After JB's incoherent rant about how angry he is that Americans are complaining about not being able to buy food and gas, VPT got JB to ink an executive order that abolished anger as a sin.  For added drama, Biden kicked over the garbage can as he left the oval office after signing. 

9..Priests - All Priests must fail a public speaking test before being ordained as Priests. in the JBM,  incoherent public speakers just like the big guy himself.  And since the only commandment in the JB Religion is to blame thy neighbor for EVERY THING, it's really easy to just blame their poorly delivered sermons whenever you commit a sin.

Well, there ya have it. Religion is now as simple as blaming your neighbor for everything and a couple of  other random tasks. Even better, very progressive Thad stole 50 percent of the collection jar. So, now he is already a millionaire. 

My Secret Weapon: Cancer Came, It Saw, I won

The Worst Headache Ever!

 Do you know those headaches you get when you lick the ice cream way too fast; even though your Mom warned you ahead of time not to do it? I got one of those headaches one day, and it didn’t go away for three years. The worst part was that I didn’t even have any ice cream on the first day that I got the headache. 

Three long days went by. After watching enough movies that even a little kid could get sick of watching movies, I was still crying away, about how bad my head hurt. Finally, Mom grabbed her keys on one Friday morning.

“Billy,  we’re going to see Doctor Tommy. Get your shoes on.” 

“Can we take Lucy with us?”

“Billy,  Doctor Tommy doesn’t let dogs inside his office. This is the last time I’m gonna tell you. Get your shoes on.”

We could have seen a million and ten cars on the way to the doctor with a sign on the side of their car that said, “Look out the window, Billy, and we’ll give you four million bags of M&M’s,” I still wouldn’t have gotten a single piece of free candy on the way to Dr. Tommy’s office.

After we got there, Nurse Brenda took my mom and I into the patient’s room. The place looked like the time my art teacher made us all draw a bunch of pictures about how to not get sick. 

Drawing a bunch of stupid pictures  in Mrs. Zamaddux’s room would have been way better than what I was about to go through. 

 Nurse Brenda said, “ Dr. Tommy will be here in just a few minutes.”  

From what my mom tells me, I cried even louder while we were waiting, than the time my little sister Olivia bawled when I socked her in the belly after she beat me at some stupid Hula Hoop game. 

Dr. Timmy finally came in. 

“Hey Billy. What’s the matter, Bud?”

“My eyes hurt, my head hurts.”

Then, I started to cry some more. 

After I finally stopped crying, he did his usual thing. He looked in between my ears, and down my throat, and a bunch of other stuff. After that,  he told me to sleep a lot, drink a bunch of water, and he gave me the pink medicine that he always used to give me. This medicine was more reliable than John Graden’s throws to Marco Rivera. Only this time, the medicine didn’t work.

Bulls Go Up, Chickens Go Down!

Well. If my body was a quarterback, it threw an interception to what would be the meanest cornerback in the NFL. However, this CB did not wear a jersey, and only lived inside some people’s bodies. Its name was Cancer. On November 11, 2018, I was diagnosed with Brain Cancer. 

For my whole life before I got cancer, my dad used to tell my sister Olivia and I at least once a week, “Ya ‘ see kids. If you plop a bull and a chicken right in the middle of a mountain, the bull will keep charging up the hill, and the chicken will go back down. The bottom of the mountain is no place to be either, kids. The view is uglier than the view from the bottom of Olivia’s room when she doesn’t throw her clothes in the hamper. So, I can only pray that I am raising a pair of bulls.” 

On the day that they told me that I had cancer,  I knew from the second the words came out of Dr. Tommy’s mouth that I had to Bull Up, I had to win!.

My Two Secret Weapons

Eventually,  I thought of two things that could give me the strength and the courage to  Bull Up. The first one came to me as easy as beating my sister at basketball. This weapon was watching John Graden throw touchdown passes. No matter how sick I felt, I spent at least two hours every day watching his highlights on ESPN. For me, his ESPN clips felt better than the time our football team won the Pee-Wee Championship.

The other thing that helped me Bull Up was playing for my own football team. Over the last three years of getting all these cancer treatments, it didn’t matter how many times that I threw up the night before, or how dizzy I felt even just minutes before the game; I still went to almost every practice, and 100 % of my games.  At the end of every practice or game, Coach Thomas would lead all the kids in a prayer to ask God to keep giving his little warrior , Bodacious, the power to fight on,  (READ HERE ABOUT BODACIOUS) Bodacious was the name Coach Thomas gave me.

I won 

Now, I’m going to mash up a bowl of truth.

Two days before John Graden threw six touchdowns to help the San Diego JackRabbits win the 2021 Super Bowl, I was as close to death as John Graden was to winning the league MVP during his rookie season.

One morning after one of my treatments, things got extremely scary. I had stopped breathing, This meant all the nurses and all the doctors in the entire hospital had to come into my room to help save me. 

I’m not sure if it were a couple of minutes or a couple of hours later, but I was plopped down on my bed in the position of an angel, with a football in his hand. The ball was actually in my hand, Truth Mash.  That was when my mom, dad, and sister tip-toed into the room like they were looking at a ghost.  Later on, Olivia said that the beeping machines were driving her crazy, but she could forgive me because I almost died.  

All three of them crowded around my bed, and held onto my hand.  Then, my eyes opened up. I said, “Is the JackRabbits game on yet?”

My dad just grabbed my head and said, “Two more days buddy. Two more days. Through all of this,you’ve never been a chicken. I’m proud of you buddy. Keep fighting. Bull up!” 

After that, my mom and my sister started to cry; even though Olivia will never admit to it. I still remember her weeping. 

I really do believe that the only reason that I was able to keep fighting was because I didn’t want to miss that game. And, guess what, two days later, The Jack Rabbits won the game. It was mostly due to the fact that Graden threw six touchdown passes!

The Real WIn- Getting Out Of The Hospital

Two days after the San Diego Jack Fires won the big game, the doctors at the San Diego County Children’s hospital declared that I was starting to improve, a lot. So, they took me to do a special procedure to look at my brain. 

When the doctor came into my hospital room after the procedure, his feet shuffled as he stood in front of my bed. He looked down at the floor. I could hear the beeping machines coming from a ton of directions. 

He popped his head up. He looked at my mom, my dad, my sister, and my nurses. Then, he opened up the envelope he was holding in his hand, with a picture of my brain.

“You know what this is, Billy?”

“A picture that says I don’t have Brain Cancer anymore? At least, I hope.”

“It is, Congratulations!”

The doctor turned to my mom and dad.

“This boy fights like a bull. I have never seen a recovery so fast, in my 27 years of treating patients with cancer.” 

On the way home,  I said to my mom and dad, “What can we do to celebrate that I beat cancer?” They both said together, “Anything, of course. “ 

“Really? Like go to the San Diego Jack Rabbits Home Opener Next Year?”

My sister rolled her eyes since she hated football. But, my dad gave my mom his credit card so she could order the tickets before we even got home. 

Sign It Up!

The day before the game finally arrived. My sister Olivia had an idea. “Hey, how about you make one of those signs that we see fans holding up on TV sometimes?”

“What should I put on it?”

She said, “I don’t know. How about John Graden Helped Me NOT DIE?”

“Shut up, Stupid!”

After we argued about who is dumber, we settled on, “John Graden Helped Me Beat Brain Cancer.” 

Dad drove us to the game the next morning.The game  started off kind of slow and boring. There were only like a couple of touchdowns during the first couple of hours of the game. But, the big moment eventually came in the fourth quarter. 

“Here’s the snap. “

“Graden!”

“Looking left.”

“Dodges the sack.” 

“He’s got a man.”

….

“It’s Rivera!”

“He’s off to the races.”

“Touch down, San Diego!!”

I don’t actually know if that was what the announcer said. But, it had to sound something pretty similar to that. I do know what happened at Jack Ryan Stadium, and it was freaking awesome.  

After the touchdown, John Graden ran past the end zone, and right for the seats. He just so happened to be running towards the same seats that we were sitting in.  

Olivia took off my JackRabbits hat, and slapped me right across the noggin, "Put up your sign."

“John Graden Helped Me Beat Brain Cancer.”  

I never thought John Graden would see the sign, or anything like that when Olivia told me to make the sign.

But,  there he was,  my hero, the quarterback for the San Diego JackRabbits.

Graden put his hand up for a high-five.

 Even though I was higher up than him, he didn't do that stupid thing my dad used to do when I was real short  when he gives me a high-five.  My dad used to put his hand up and make me think that I would be able to jump up and touch his hand. At the last freaking second, he pulled  his hand away. 

After we high-fived,  he looked at me and said,  “I'm really glad to meet you,  Kid. You are the true hero.”

I tried to act as cool as I could. But, I felt like I had just floated away, up into heaven.  

To be honest,  now I feel like it was kind of worth it to have had all those needles stuck inside me for the last three years, since now I know what it feels like to have the greatest quarterback of all time call me HIS hero.

Follow-Up

Based on a true story about a remarkable hero named Noah Reed's interaction with NFL Legend, Tom Brady. Learn more HERE