Monkey from Wii Party

Snails from Psychonauts

Tokomon from Digimon Story CyberSleuth

Chumly from Free Realms

(9/11) “Our mother came to the hospital maybe twice. I was getting on her, hard. I’d say: ‘You need to fucking be with her. I’ll pay for the uber. Just go.’ But she had no clue. She kept saying: ‘Calm down, Anthony. She’s going to be fine.’ It’s like: ‘No she’s fucking not.’ At one point G was doing chemo, physical therapy, and radiation. She was exhausted all the time. But she never complained, not once. We made it to two Knicks games. And a Cher concert. Then in March they let her come home for a few months, and that’s when the pandemic hit. This fucking virus. My sister’s life is dwindling down, and we couldn’t even leave the apartment. My friends were too scared to come over, which I get. But I’m sitting in this fucking box watching my sister die. It was super depressing, but every day we found something to laugh about. G was the ultimate troll. She had something to say every time I dressed up for a selfie. Every time I did a ‘live.’ There was a lot Netflix. And a lot of snacks. We never talked about death, not once. I told myself: ‘If she brings it up,’ we’ll talk about it.’ But she never did. It was always about winning with us. G was never going to say: ‘I might lose, Anthony.’ Never. Never. One time G was on the phone with her college counselor. She’s sitting right next to me, and she says: ‘I’m coming back to school next spring. Worst case scenario, I’ll be in a wheelchair.” By that time she couldn’t even use the bathroom by herself. She’s swollen from all the steroids. Don’t get me wrong: the hope was real, but c’mon. She knew she wasn’t ever going back to school. That was for me. She was saying that for me. Sometime in May things got too tough at home, and we had to bring her back to the hospital. Then on June 18th the doctors brought me into a room. They were crying, I was crying. Everyone was hysterical. ‘We recommend stopping chemo,’ they said. They told me that she probably wouldn’t make it another week after that. G’s 21st birthday was still two months away, on August 19th. So I made a deal with her. I said: ‘Hey G, for your birthday I’m going to take you to a pub. And we’re going to drink a beer together.’ And she’s like: ‘OK, Ant. Bet.’”

(10/11) “We made it until her birthday. And that was a big deal. G never said it, but getting there was a big deal. This kid had looked death in the eye at the age of ten. She should have been gone. But she became an adult. And maybe that was our gift. Maybe the whole time, that was our gift. Her birthday wasn’t exactly how we planned. She was too sick to leave the hospital. But I brought a beer to her room. I’m not going to say she drank the whole thing, but we had a ‘cheers.’ And she loved that. The next day she took a really big drop. On Friday I wrote my final update on social media. I said: ‘There’s still zero quit in her, I know it.’ Afterwards one of my best friend’s mom sent me a message. She said: ‘I love you baby boy, but let her go.’ I didn’t take that too well. I was like: ‘What the fuck does that mean?’ But at 8 pm that night I got a call from the doctors, and they said: ‘You should probably come now.’ When I got there G’s eyes were wide open. I leaned over her bed, and said: ‘G, you need to rest. It’s time to stop fighting.’ And she kinda nodded. That night five of my friends came to the hospital to be with me. We sat around G’s bed until 1:30 in the morning, just talking. G wasn’t saying anything. But her eyes were open. So I started to think: ‘Fuck it. She’s going to make it another week.’ Because that’s what G does. She doesn’t quit. I left the room for a minute. Just a minute, to go downstairs and get a little air. But when I came back her room was filled up with doctors and nurses. My friend Elgin grabbed me and said: ‘I’m so sorry.’ And I’m like sorry for what? Sorry for what? Sorry for what? It wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to be there. I was gonna hold her hand. I was gonna tell her ‘I love you. We always said ‘I love you.’ Every night before bed, every drop off, every time we hung up the phone. Always. And I was supposed to say it one last time, but I didn’t. It really fucked me up. Bad, for a long time. But my therapist told me that G would have never died in front of me. She said: ‘That night you gave each other your two greatest acts of love. You told her to stop fighting. And she kept fighting until you left the room.”

(11/11) “She’s in my dreams six nights a week. Usually we’re just chilling: in the car, or watching tv on the couch. I’ll be like: ‘What’s up G?’ And she’ll be like: ‘What’s up Ant?’ Afterwards I’ll wake up, and lie in bed for a bit. Not believing that I just woke up. Then I’ll play ‘Time after Time,’ and that’s when the tears come out hard. The place is a little cleaner now, I will say that. That’s the only thing we ever bickered about. I’m not saying G was dirty, if she’s listening. But messy. She was messy. So the place is cleaner now. But I’m struggling man. I’m struggling. I still have The Knicks. And I’ve got great friends, but they’ve all got wives and kids. I will say that things have been much better with my mom lately. But most of the time it’s just me in the crib. I don’t know what to do with myself. Sometimes I’ll drive to the hospital and just sit in the parking lot. That was my identity: G and Ant. Ant and G. That’s all gone now. It was real man, this was real. I’ve never had kids, so I don’t know what that feels like. But I think I kinda do, you know? I’ll never have another love like G, ever. And that’s OK. I’m OK with that. On my last birthday G was super sick, but she organized a party at the hospital. It was supposed to be a surprise, but she accidentally added me to the Facebook invite. All day Iong I was getting notifications: the cake just arrived, the balloons just arrived. It was hilarious. But I never told her I knew. When I walked in the room, I acted completely surprised. All my friends were there. There was a Knicks cake. Knicks decorations. And there was G, with the biggest smile on her face. She was holding a ‘Happy Birthday Anthony’ sign that she’d made in the hospital art program. She was so freaking proud of herself. For so much of our lives I’d been doing everything, but this was something she put together. This was all her. And she was so freaking happy. That day she gave me my final birthday card. I’ve got it hanging on the fridge right now. It’s half-orange, half-blue. On the top she wrote: ‘You saved my life so many times. I can’t thank you enough.’ Then at the bottom, she signed it: ‘Love always. Your biggest fan, Gianna.”

Cow from Field Day

Bowser from Super Mario 64

some more delightful video titles from robin seplut (creator of two little kittens on a walk no bib no crib no problem)