The Worms Gave Me Cancer

By Asche Keegan

Author's Note: This was just me messing around with a creative writing assignment! xD Enjoy!

Eying the cigarette box in my pocket in distaste, the doctor informed me it would only be a routine checkup—nothing more than a casual vitals test, an uncomfortable examination, and a brief nasal scan.

I’ve seen this all before of course; they had the same tortuous tricks in Vietnam. They locked me in a white metal room and watched as I slowly went mad, rocking myself to sleep in a dazed stupor. Sometimes, they would pull me out, grabbing my arm and strapping me to their operating table. There, they cut me open and pulled out my organs, injecting me with noxious chemicals and irrepressible diseases. They made us eat worms, forcing them down our throats until we choked on our own spit. Once, someone asked to see my scars, and I told him the Vietnamese were tricky that way- they knew how to operate without leaving a trace of their work behind them. Yet now as if called to life by memory, I could feel the chemicals they put into my body once more churning, ready to finish what they started. However, while the nurses poked and prodded and patronized me, I confronted the traumas of my past and sat completely still through the awakening of old nightmares.

The next thing I knew, they were asking for an MRI, another one of their high end medical procedures designed to take all your money to tell you you’re going to die.

“It’s the cigarettes, good man,” the doctor said, once more staring at my pocket. “I’ve told you that you should have quit when you had the chance.”

Twenty years ago, I had gathered with my other friends behind the school, one of us staged at the corner as a lookout for the teachers. Browning had unearthed a stack of crushed cigarettes from his backpack, tossing each of us one.

“Those cause cancer, you know?” I had said it as a question, nervous and trying to fit in.

“Whoever told you that was a moron,” Browning replied, snapping on the lighter and gesturing toward me. “Light ‘em up.”

So here I tell the doctor what Browning told me, and in return the man shakes his head and faces the ground. “You likely have stage 4 lung cancer,” he says, and the words hit the ground between us.

I think about for a minute before I nod. “Makes sense. It wasn’t the cigarettes, my friend,” I say, mimicking his jovial tone. “It was the worms who gave it to me.”

“You’ve never even been to Vietnam,” the doctor replied, exasperated. He had heard this tale a good many times, for it explained every malady of my body—especially as I was an incredibly healthy person before I left the country.

“You weren’t there; it was a despicable place,” I say, before lighting a cigarette and leaving the flabbergasted doctor alone in the room behind me.

2 Comments

woman holding baby while walking on dock

Disclaimer:

This is not my own work, but rather a close-imitation writing exercise based on Jamaica Kincaid's short story, "Girl." The purpose of the exercise is to mimic the writing style of another author and simply replace key words and phrases with your own! I did this for my creative writing class - which I love - and liked it enough to share it here. Nevertheless, I would still count this as a journaling entry, though I suggest you read the original first. :) Enjoy!

What My Mother Taught Me (Close Imitation Exercise)

By Asche Keegan

Order your textbooks on Monday and line them up against the wall; pack your book collection on Tuesday and put the boxes in the van; don’t check your phone; carry a pencil and a pen; forget about your friends after you take off; when taking notes to help you study, be sure that they aren’t scribbled over, because that way they won’t be legible after class; make toast when the cafeteria is closed; is it true that you socialize more than you study?; always spend your time in such a way that it won’t hurt your grades; On Sundays, try to act like an adult and not like the kid you’re so bent on remaining; don’t slouch when you’re talking to me; you shouldn’t speak when I’m talking, not even to give clarifications; don’t eat wheat – indigestion will follow you; but I don’t talk when you’re talking, and I never slouch; this is how to write a sentence; this is how to write an essay for the sentence you have just written; this is how to edit an essay so you can submit it on time and to prevent yourself from looking like the irresponsible kid you’re so bent on remaining; this is how you stay up late for hours every night so that you get all good grades; this is how you eat plenty of protein and vegetables so that you get all good grades; this is how you make pizza– far from my room, because the smell makes me sick; when you are teaching others, make sure they get plenty of sleep or else they won’t understand you when you are teaching it; this is how you multiply; this is how you divide; this is how you do a geometric proof; this is how you write a story you won’t like too much; this is how you write a story you don’t like at all; this is how to ruin a story you like completely; this is how you study during the day; this is how you study during the weekend; this is how you study during the weekend with a holiday; this is how you study during the night; this is how you study while you eat;

[...]

This is how to make the benchmark; always double-check your work to make sure it’s good; but what if I run out of time on the test?; you mean to say that you’re really going to be the type of kid that will run out of time on the test?