Many fluids exit the suburban loser's body over the course of his cancer. There are the tears, but also the sweat he gets when he waits for the chemotherapy treatment because it hurts in a weird way when they zap his brain despite the little mesh thing they put on his head. There is the shit that flows from his ass like a river and when he doesn't have time to position himself over the toilet correctly it spills down the side and his wife or youngest son have to clean it up with paper towel and windex. One time his youngest son puked doing it and had to clean that up, too. He needs to pee constantly, and when his eldest son flies home to see him for the first time, he has to hold the pee jug up to the suburban loser's penis, pressing it firmly against the tip so nothing squirts out, and he has to pull his underpants back up and gently lower him back down into the easy chair by the TV when he’s done. The strangest thing is that whenever anyone leaves the house to run to the store or walk the dog around the block, the suburban loser always has to pee as soon as they leave. He tries to hold it as long as he can, but it isn't long before he says fuck it and calls someone on their phone because they don't have cancer and he does and he can't walk anymore and needs their help to pee so they need to come home immediately. Once, they came back from the pharmacy to see the suburban loser in his easy chair, his sweatpants dark with urine and an angry look on his face. He rolls out of bed at some point one night and everyone just lets him lie there because the position he fell into on the floor seems to put him to sleep and he’d already been up for about two days straight at this point and was starting to babble incoherently. Green bile keeps coming out of his mouth as he lies there, pooling around his head like a lake of snot. His wife and two sons think it might have just been the bang bang shrimp he ate the night before upsetting his stomach, but later that day the hospital says actually it was something else. A pair of workers bring a hospice bed into the living room, and that's where the suburban loser spends the rest of his life. He doesn’t talk anymore, so whenever he opens his mouth the only thing that comes out is a white foam. His wife sits by the bed with a turkey baster she uses to suck up the foam from his lips every few minutes and uses a cotton swab to clean out his nostrils. The whole time, she talks to the suburban loser. Thank you for giving me such a good life with such good memories, she says. Me and your sons are going to miss you so much. You're saying goodbye too early. I want you to stay here and get better. Why is this happening to you? I don’t know what to do. But you're going to be my person in heaven from now on. I love you.