Paul Rust is dying.

This morning, my mother was in a local shoe store during "Ridiculous Days" (LeMars' downtown sales extravaganza that has prices so low, they are positively... RIDICULOUS!). A man came up to her and... well, this is how the dialogue went...

MAN: How's Paul?
MY MOM: He's good.
MAN: Really? He's good?
MY MOM: Yes.
MAN: Because someone told me he was ill. And there's a benefit being held for him.

Yes. I am dying.

Actually, this benefit is the one I mentioned in the last blog. I'm setting it up to raise money for my movie. However, once this entered LeMars' small-town rumor mill, it soon became that I was dying a slow and painful death and I needed money for hospital costs. I wonder what disease I have.

Mind you, I'm not angered by this. I love the rumor mill. It has brought me much happiness throughout the years. Every person I look at in LeMars, I get to have a sordid story. It's great.

The funny part about all this though is... I found out that I really am dying. Seriously. Yesterday, the doctor told me I have cancer.

And AIDS.

And Reyes Syndrome.

Seriously.