Rejected Pitches for NBC’s Three Wishes: Hodgkin’s Lymphoma Division
Dear Three Wishes,
I was just a normal kid last spring. School was almost done for the year, my baseball team was ranked second in the state, and I was working my first part-time job, as a dish pig, down at Kelsey’s.
Then I got the news.
I’d been sick on and off for what felt like months, and the doctors had ordered a barrage of testing. Their results were conclusive: I had Hodgkin’s lymphoma. And, since their testing had gotten backed up in the bureaucratic quagmire of the county’s medical laboratories, the cancer was well along by the time I found out about it, and I was given six months to live.
Now, my time’s almost up. Three Wishes, I have only one wish, and I’m hoping you can help make it a reality.
All I want before my time is up is a balls-out sex party with gravy boats of Peruvian coke as appetizers and the girls from Coyote Ugly as the main course.
Can you help make my dream a reality?
Sincerely yours,
Tim Toole
Spokane, Washington
* * *
Dear Three Wishes,
I’m almost dead.
Even though Hodgkin’s lymphoma, which I have, is treatable with today’s medical technologies, I cannot afford those technologies.
Sirs, my finances are so grim that my reply to “Would you like to super-size that?” is along the lines of “What, you got 39 cents for me?”
Anyway.
You know Soleil Moon Frye? Punky Brewster? Yeah. I’d like to commend her role in 1994’s Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings, where she gave a convincing performance as “Marcie.” (No last name.)
I’d like to thank her, all right. With my homemade tower of power.
Thanks,
Ron Walnuts
Los Angeles, California
* * *
Dear Three Wishes,
Most people think, “Hey, I’ll never get cancer. Cancer is a disease for smokers and atheists.”
Most people are wrong.
I’m not ready to go yet. I’ve only been to Disneyland once (and I didn’t even get to ride Splash Mountain because they were having “technical difficulties” that day), I still haven’t learned how to drive stick, and I’m 12 credits short of my generalist degree (with a concentration in anthro—don’t really like anthro, but feh—what’re you gonna do … ) from Central Connecticut State University.
Anyway, it’s the bottom of the ninth, and Hodgkin’s lymphoma has the bases loaded with nobody out. Ichiro at the plate with a 3-and-0 count against a peanut-vendor-turned-pitcher whose fastball musters a commendable 47 miles per hour if the winds are right.
Look, guys. Here’s my wish: I’ve always wanted a pet moose.
But not any moose.
The biggest moose in the world.
Cheers,
Spencer Hutchinson
Central Connecticut