A parody based on The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. Augustus Waters did write something for Hazel Grace, Okay! Have a glimpse. The sun comes up and the sun goes down, then does it again, and again- the same old round. The wind blows south, the wind blows north. Around and around and around it blows, blowing this way, then that- the whirling, erratic wind. — Ecclesiastes 1:5,6 Hi Hazel! I bet you are glad to read this letter from me. Sweet surprise, huh? Though I’m not that smart to make up terms like ‘our triumphantly digitized contemporaneity’; with my meager intellectual capacities I manage to come out with the idea of a secretive letter. I exceed the expectations, don’t I? By the time you get to read this letter, things must have gone real bad. I made Nurse Alison promised not to say anything about this letter until the end is nigh. Cancer perks? Nope, I believe it’s my beautiful face and my hot bod, they are inspiringly blinding. I really hope she will need to wait so long that she has to give it to her children or grandchildren to pass it to you. I’m imagining an Alison Jr. giving some worn out papers to an old beautiful nagger who have a dozen of grandchildren. (Six boys, six girls. Some love basketball, some hate it.) Without any teeth to brush, but dentures to soak in some unknown germ-killing chemical. When I first saw you at the support group I was overjoyed. Isaac did tell me about you on and off, however you are really something. The beautiful you, who walk lightly, lightly upon the earth. One who speaks beautifully and suffers beautifully. Oh! Zip it, Hazel Grace Lancaster. Stop denying me the simple pleasure of saying true things. Don’t kill my vibe. Especially now that I am no longer suffering from personhood and you are about to join me eternally. Come, Hazel! Come to me running without the cannula and Philip for lullaby. I have the stars for your tasting. Get your copy today. Okay?