A heartworming story about the power of the human spirit and the true meaning of friendship.

Startling student loan statistics are a quick Google search away, but millions of Americans can assure you of the problem by simply citing their own numbers. Emerging author of Hum A Radiant Sickness, Patrick Crawford Bryant, decided to take a stand against this $1.3 trillion dollar crisis. With a humbling gesture, he pledged to contribute all proceeds of his work to help pay down America’s student debt, starting with his closest friends. Though the odds were stacked against him—after all, who the hell reads fiction anymore?—he succeeded.

Initial Sales Were Low

With minimal fanfare, Bryant released his debut novel in late March, 2017. Trailing a spray of fire, polka music and confetti, he ran naked down King Street, launching copies of his novel at pedestrians with a modded vacuum cleaner serving as an air cannon. Streaking with such amazing speed, he hardly noticed the sneers on the faces of the books’ recipients, and he certainly forgot to collect payment. But what a riot anyway! He continued to launch books through car windows, into bars and restaurants, popping a few into the gaping mouths of tourists, even disarming a police officer or two who had until then been minding their business ogling all the beautiful young women strutting up and down the street.

Needless to say, sales did not pan out as the author had hoped. But he refused to abide the plague of debt tormenting his friends and the rest of the country.

All Successful Businesses Know When To Pivot

What else could he do? In a back alley, Bryant exchanged his machinery, novels and nakedness with a homeless man for his ragged clothing, styrofoam change-collecting cup and cardboard signage. As the bum tramped away firing novels at feral cats and up ladies’ skirts, Bryant found a high-traffic street corner and began to belt out the national anthem. Impassioned and alive with the American dream, he lured in a large crowd, who took out their cell phones and filmed him sweating profusely, pointing with terror at his bulging neck veins, giggling as he farted with the effort of a high note, etc. After a few hours of this incredible patriotic busking, he had made about $3.50 in loose change—hey, that’s worth the sale of one novel right there! But he knew it was taking too long. There had to be a better way.

To the Casino!—Or Something Like It

Like a flash of lightning snapping off Benjamin Franklin’s toupee, a real stroke of genius came to him. With the right game and a little luck, he could invest his coinage and come away with some major profit. Bidding farewell to the crowd with a deep bow and a heel click, he skipped down the street to his friend’s apartment who always hosted a poker game on Friday nights. Seeing his frenzied and dirtied state when he showed up, the players all took pity on him, allowing him to go all-in on a pot with his meager $2.50 (he was hungry and had to buy a hotdog from a street vendor on the way), though it already contained a whopping $150 and a few other items including a rusty butterfly knife, a coupon for a free spa treatment, and a glass eye!

To his surprise and glee, they even let him deal! Careful to tuck away a pair of aces in his sleeve before the flop, he knew he was bound to win and get one step closer to helping them all pay off their student debt. With the river dealt, it was time to raise. He was out of cash, so he offered to write a love poem for the victor, guaranteeing lyricism and romance with enough potency to woo any Victoria’s Secret model or NFL Football player, whatever they were into. All bets called, the game came down to Bryant and the pirate who wasn’t yet ready to part with his glass eye. It was time for the reveal—and for a little sleight of hand, of course.

Carefully removing the aces from his sleeve, Bryant grinned from ear to ear. Unfortunately for him, however, he was wearing a t-shirt. His cheat was as clear as the little orb that stared up at him from the pile of cash on the table.

You’ve Got to Fight for What You Believe In

Bryant knew damn well what was about to happen, so he went ahead and started it off. With one hand, he lunged for the butterfly knife in the pot and scooped up the rest with the other, quickly stuffing the bills down his pants for safe keeping. By the time he leapt on the table to kick his opponent’s teeth in, the pirate had already whispered a secret command to his pet parrot, who unknown to the author was just about test the meddle of his underwear, flying up from behind to give him a massive wedgie.

Though the pain was wildfire and his voice rose two octaves in pitch, our hero did not give up. With an Oompa Loompa roar, shouting “HOW ELSE WILL YOU PAY YOUR DEBT???”, he flicked open the knife, which sung a brief aria as it flew through the air and pierced the pirate’s good eye. Beneath a spurt of blood and a hail of criticism, “Dude, uncool!”, Bryant dug in, ready for the brawl.

With intermixed hummings of the Rocky theme song and cries of “I’m doing this for you!” he incapacitated the rest of his friends and bolted for the door.

Hard Work Pays Off

His bruised and swelling knuckles, his throbbing pulse, his pubic hairs standing on end with the pure energy of the fight—they all assured him of the righteousness of his work. As he examined the glass eye and took a moment to thank the beauty of the moonlight reflecting off of its imperfections, two large men approached him, adorning thick shades and slick black suits.

“We saw what you did in there and have to say we’re impressed.” With enormous arms crossed, the other nodded his head. “We have a job for you. A prize fight. You don’t seem like the type to throw a match, but that’s not what we want. We’re going to bet on you, and you’re going to take us to cash heaven.”

“Amen. Let’s do it.”

As he sat in the back of their van, with the bag tied over his head—he knew these things had to be done a certain way—he continued to think of his friends and how happy they would all be when he raised enough money to free them of their debt. A few preemptive tears of joy even found their way rolling down his cheek. When the men pulled him out though, he was quick to assure them that it was only sweat, and that he was ready for one hell of a fight.

“Fight? What fight? Did you really think we’d bet on a pipsqueak like you? You’re kidnapped, and you’re working for us now.”

Fair enough. As long as he would make a paycheck, it would be worth it. He could save up and accomplish his goal.

Go Where the Wind Takes You

They sat him down and removed the bag from his head to reveal a small cubicle area that was made to look like a young woman’s bedroom. In the corner of the room was a camera pointing toward the bed.

“You will begin shortly,” they told him, and left the room.

Soon after, a gorgeous woman with extraordinarily long hair came in, batting her beautiful eyelashes at him. “You ready?” she asked—“Oh no! What are you doing?”

She tsked, shook her head, sat down on the bed and handed him a hairbrush. “Here. Just brush my hair, silly. Don’t worry, we’ll both get paid.”

He took up the brush and did his due diligence, staring intently and lustily into the camera as he managed to straighten and work into tantalizing alignment all of her curls and strays.

“Excellent, excellent. Here’s your cut.”

One million dollars! Wow! That should cover both of my friends’ debt!

Never Give Up

When we asked the author about his generosity, he stated: “For students and recent graduates, looking ahead can be overwhelming. But we mustn’t give in. Where there’s a drought in certainty, security and fulfillment, there’s a building torrent of human spirit. We should laugh at the absurdity of our situation, laugh and laugh, but never give up.”

Needless to say, April Fools. But supporting quality works of fiction is no joke. Don’t let this happen to an author near you. Buy Hum A Radiant Sickness today!

Novel Synopsis

Conor Fallow sees his massive student loan debt as a barrier preventing him from achieving something meaningful with his life. As his senior year is coming to a close, however, he’s adopted an escapist attitude—picking up self-destructive habits and doing his best to ignore his future. While on a nightly walk filled with alcohol and malpracticed meditation, Conor runs into an old friend, Luce, who invites him to take part in a strange urban rite. Their guides, Jim-Jam and No Name explain that the aesthetic of the scene, looking out from a particular point atop a parking garage, is so intense that it creates a powerful psychedelic effect. Conor is skeptical but is willing to try it. To his surprise, and horror, looking out at the city does have a profound effect on his psyche…

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