So I’m sitting beside my brave, undaunted wife getting her monthly chemo to combat her relentless breast cancer when I notice on my iPhone an email from BookLife.
It says entries for the 2018 BookLife Prize of $5,000 must be in by August 31. Hmmm, not that far away, I thought. Better hurry.
Then I notice the six categories for submissions:
Romance/Erotica; Mystery/Thriller; Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror; General Fiction; Memoir/Autobiography; and Middle-Grade /YA.
Naturally this caught my attention as I’m an author and my latest book, “Is there enough Brady in Trump to win the inSUPERable BOWL?” is available on Amazon. But which category would it fit under?
So I thought I’d lighten the somber mood in the chemo room and enliven the atmosphere with a little infusion of humor. Some badly needed levity.
I ask my sweetheart Angela which category I should submit by book under. And just for fun, I read off each of the categories loud enough for all her glum cancer comrades to hear and maybe get a chuckle.
One of the gray-haired senior patients seated nearby suggests I submit it under “science fiction, fantasy, horror!”
The remarks evokes laughter for it seems that’s what she thinks of the Trump Administration.
“No,” said a pretty young girl waiting patiently nearby for her grandmother to finish her chemo treatment. She suggests smugly . . .
Sorry Mr. President, but that got an even bigger laugh in the chemo room that day.
So at least for a few funny seconds on that fateful day when Manafort was found guilty and Cohen pleaded guilty, at least you made a few patients forget their cancer’s callousness . . . and laugh.
That’s a good thing, Mr. President!
But now maybe The White House needs chemo?