The Fault in Our Pants: A Parody of “The Fault in Our Stars”

The day before we left for Amsterdam, I went back to Support Group for the first time since meeting Augustus. Our house was having its annual pest spray by the exterminator, so I unfortunately had to leave the house and go somewhere.

When I got to the meeting, I spotted Isaac and sat down next to him. “Hey Isaac, it’s Support Group Hazel,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Hazel!” he said. “Cannot wait for our trip to Tokyo!”

“Me neither,” I said. “I’ve been spending hours practicing my Japanese. Check it out.” I took out my phone and played an mp3 of a woman speaking fluent Japanese.

“Amazing!” Isaac said. “I’d ask what else is new with you, but I already know, ‘cause Augustus never. Talks. About. Anything. Else.”

When a guy spends most of his time thinking about a girl, it’s a real turnoff. But Augustus rejected convention, and instead of spending most of his time thinking about me, he spent all his time thinking about me. It was hot.

“Okay folks, circle up!” said Patrick, and he began the meeting. I, meanwhile, began my own personal texting meeting. My meeting was rudely interrupted, however, when Patrick said my name.

“Hazel, we heard about your recent trip to the hospital,” Patrick said. “On behalf of the group, I just want to say we hope you get better soon.”

This type of sentiment expressed toward cancer patients drove me crazy. Why does everyone think that cancer patients want to “get better”? How do you even know we’d like “getting better”? Maybe “getting better” is actually getting worse. Ever think of that?

After Support Group, I stopped off at Isaac’s house to have lunch. When we were done eating our sandwiches, Isaac asked if I wanted to play a video game with him. I thought this was an odd request, but then Isaac added that they now had video games for blind people, which sounded intriguing. “Sure,” I said, “let’s do it.”

He turned on the TV and a computer attached to it. The TV screen remained black, but a deep voice spoke from it.

DECEPTION, the voice said. One player or two?

“Two,” Isaac said.

Players one and two, identify yourself.

“Isaac,” Isaac said.

“Hazel,” I said.

Let the game begin.

The voice began telling us what was happening.

You awake in a dark empty room, approximately twenty feet square.

“Is there a light switch?” Isaac said.

Yes.

“Turn on light switch,” Isaac said.

Nothing changes, because you can’t see.

Isaac turned to me. “Try something,” he said.

“Um,” I said, “are there any doors?”

Yes, there is one door.

“Open door,” I said.

You open the door to reveal a monster. If you could see it, you’d think it was really scary.

“Run away from door,” Isaac said.

You start running backwards, but you trip on a bench and fall, because you can’t see.

We played for a while, and then I told Isaac I needed to head home.

Because I had a trip to pack for.