Boring afternoon

The thing is like this. That afternoon, the cancer cells in my throat suddenly accelerated and spread. It felt like someone had stuffed a nose in my throat. Now it has developed into something as hard as a shot. I spread out my mobile phone, wallet, and watch in front of my eyes. Say to them: here it is. Death is coming soon. Come to a sad farewell background music. At this moment Raymond Carver suddenly kicked in the door. He slapped me twice without knowing it, and then left in a hurry. At that moment, I felt suddenly hungry. I opened the wallet and counted the banknotes in it. I called the 24-hour McDonald's and ordered lunch. Then stare at the time on the watch like a dementia patient. My heart is full of sin, and I hope that the car on the road will not kill the food delivery person too easily, which will affect my long-delayed lunch.
This idiotic thought lasted about 10 minutes. Those extreme desires soon became boring again. At this time, there was a biography of Jim Morrison that I had read a long time ago on the table. The main singer of the door on the cover stared at the camera very handsomely, staring at me. Gradually, I was roasted by his scorching eyes. I went back to the time when the damn cancer cells and shots filled the throat. So, without thinking, I locked the takeaway boy and the hunger pang out of his mouth unintentionally. This recurring plot with roughly the same content finally made me bored.
I vaguely remember that the day when this tangled thought finally came to an end, my prostatitis made me feel no pain and numbness. Urine leaked from the corners of the white linen shorts, drop by drop, and fell on the ground. Formed into a block of transparent lenses of different sizes. I looked at myself through the mirror. A mutilated elephant full of teeth and hair. Every part of the limbs, unknowingly, turned into withered trunks of equal proportions of fat and thin. I'm still very thankful that I didn't seek death like the American when I was 27. Nor did he live beyond 67 with boring pain.
That was the last afternoon of my life. There is no pain, no sorrow. Like every sunny afternoon that is happening in this world, it is sunny, quiet, and boring.

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