Who Would Win in a Fight Against Josh Sundquist and Me?
Author's note: The character described in this multi-part story is my creation and should not be interpreted as the actual public figure. Although most of the events are fictional, the helpful and motivating aspects of his character are real, and for that I am grateful to have received his guidance.
Read this first:
Who Would Win in a Fight between Josh Sundquist and Me?
I followed Josh Sundquist to a bar near his residence in Clarendon. Though unsure if my south Arlington status would be accepted there, I desired his wisdom on life and love. I was diagnosed with Ewing’s during the age of invincibility, leading to the highest probability of survival. But Sundquist was diagnosed at the beginning of his genital phase. The probability of survival was lowest then, but if the boy killed the cancer, then the hormonal surge would elicit certain brain cell receptors to unlock in the shape of seahorses, which the Old Testament refers to as God’s Brain.
Full of vodka and questions, I sat down with my former opponent. “I’m grateful for your time, but why bother with a cheater like me?”
“I understand how the red of desire can become a black shadow that disrupts one’s moral compass. It happened to me years ago when I couldn't afford Vidal Sassoon's perfect hairspray. We just have to grow from our mistakes.”
My eyes twinkled from his forgiveness. I will never cheat again unless it is in Grand Theft Auto.
I asked Sundquist about love, as I’d been frustrated by my single-digit message return rate on OkCupid and being not quite good enough for the ladyfriends I grew fond of. I need a competitive advantage there so I will not reveal his secrets to you, but just know that his seahorse-shaped receptors will serve me well.
The reason I cheated against Sundquist in our fight was that I was jealous of his crutches. I am blessed that my cancer did not require limb amputation like his did, so I do not envy that he requires crutches. But he seems so accepting of them.
Since finishing physical therapy after my cancer surgery, I was able to walk short distances—like under a mile—pain-free, except for a few temporary occasions. That is mind-boggling when looking at my CT scan. Even my surgeon was amazed. He used to photograph me stretching and record me walking to show his students. Few things evoked more pride than being my famous surgeon’s star patient.
Months ago I began feeling pain when walking. Like previous incidents of hip pain, I figured it would go away. It has not, and I no longer believe it will.
“I don’t think about my missing leg that much,” Sundquist said. “I walk several miles a day to my girlfriend’s house using the crutches, and dance. So long as I can do those two things, I’m cool.”
A lightbulb went off in my head, as if my own brain cell receptors unlocked (though not the sexual prowess ones). I never used to consider a walking tool so long as I could walk freely. This made me normal; not disabled; better than non-walkers. That unethical mindset was necessary for my Superman Complex.
But I also limited my movement to maintain my ability to walk for as long as possible. Everyone’s body breaks down no matter if he’s an athlete, cancer survivor with a dead and basically free-floating hip joint, or plebeian. In that sense I considered my self-imposed limitation normal.
But it stymied me. I would sometimes decline activities that required more than three miles of walking. I would not consider trips to walk-heavy destinations like Europe. This didn't bother me—much like the limitations caused by my milk allergy, I blindly accepted my walking restriction.
Sundquist shared his crutching videos with me, which opened up a new world. I knew Europe was on a map, but now I can see it. I decided to voluntarily use crutches for occasions of my choosing, such as the mile between my house and the metro, or venturing around new cities. I can’t wait to use the Walk Easy folding forearm crutches that I ordered.
With vodka, a new perspective and an abrupt lifestyle change on the horizon, seahorse receptors flowed through me and I evoked a lightbulb in Sundquist’s head. “If we combine my left leg and your left hip, we can create a whole superperson.” I chose my words carefully before continuing, honing in on my thought. I envisioned our limb pieces locking together, creating God’s Appendage.
I didn’t need to say another word because Sundquist sensed my thought. I looked deep into his eyes and we both smiled. It was our duty; we had no choice even if we wanted one.
“We can only be one!” he shouted. “We will fight all willing opponents, cheaters or not!”
“Yes!” I said. “To spread our collective wisdom for the betterment of humanity, right?”
“Nah…let’s just get more Facebook Likes.”
Sundquist (the mostly fictional one I created here and not the real one…at least probably not) and I are officially accepting tag-team opponent requests. Do you have a celebrity tag-team suggestion? Comment on this blog, Twitter or Facebook to enter your team for consideration in our epic tag-team match.
…to be continued, if somebody actually suggests viable opponents, and I actually feel like writing a fictional story about our fight, or if we actually fight said opponents.