Two Weeks
Zach Claywell
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Have you?”
“Well…no. No I haven’t.”
“Give it to me straight, Doc.”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks?!”
“Two weeks.”
“To live?”
“Yes.”
“What should I do?”
“Well, go do the things you always wanted to, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Like what?”
“Reconcile with lost loves…go on a road trip. That sort of thing. Very heartwarming stuff.”
“Well, I could always tell Timmy he was adopted.”
“I’m sure you could.”
“I promised I would only do that on my deathbed. But I suppose that’s where I am, huh?”
“I suppose.”
“Wow. I never thought I’d live to see the day I died.”
**************
“Timmy, I have something to tell you.”
“Yes Mom?”
“Well…this is going to be very difficult.”
“Ok”
“Timmy, I have two weeks to live and you’re adopted.”
“What?!”
“Wait…’what’ to which?”
“What to both!”
“Oh, well…yes.”
“Who are my real parents?”
“I have two weeks to live, Timmy.”
“Right, I know but…sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“So…my real parents.”
“Oh yeah. We found you on our doorstep with a little note that said, ‘Take care of our lil Timmy’.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say!”
“Hold on, the phone. Hello? Yes this is Mrs. Johnsen. What do you mean spell it? J-O-H-N-S-E-N. Yes. What’s that? No, there’s only one O. Two weeks to live. You mean I don’t?? You mean…yes? It’s okay Doc.”
“What was that?”
“Timmy! Great news! I don’t have two weeks to live!”
“Oh.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Am I still adopted?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”