The doctor told me that I suffered from

The doctor told me that I suffered from "severely worrisome amounts of gangsta," known most commonly by the endearing term swag. I asked how much longer I had to live when he
looked at me with one of the saddest expressions I had ever seen before. "I'm sorry," he responded "there isn't much time left for you." It felt as though my world had collapsed
Then the my world literally collapsed, or at lest the floor did.
As I fell, my limbs flailed madly, searching for something to grab onto that would at least slow me down.
My face was being cut my small vines that hit my face as I continued to fall. The vines were to small to hold onto. My hope was slowly slipping away.
Like the vines, I too began to theater at the core of my being. As blood ran down my face puddling in my collar bone, I was slipping away, both physically and (far worse mentally.
The groundlings pointed, laughed, and threw rotten oranges at me. This was far too much drama! With the last of my strength, I grasped one of the vines & swung myself over their
heads, grabbing the rotten oranges caked on my and tossing them back down at the groundlings. I landed on the other side of the crowd. They ran at me, shouting, but I was too fast.
Finally I lay down, panting & laughing. The groundlings piled on me, laughing & singing. It was the cutest scene you can imagine, until their combined weight crushed me to death.

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