Quincy Rhoads is a native Tennesseean and sells T-shirts to angsty scenesters at his local mall. "La La" is his first non-vampire related story to be published.

Lil' Wayne sat in the cold doctor's office, his bare thighs resting against the rough butcher's paper stretched over the examining table. He felt vulnerable without his jewelry, only his tattoos and hospital gown covering him. He thumbed through a tattered old copy of Highlights for Kids as a way to stay calm. He was the greatest rapper in the world; he had a new double-platinum album in stores. He was "the shit. Get the fuck up out his toilet," so to speak. Why was he scared? How could a test be so bad? After all, the doctor said it was probably nothing, just a precaution. Nonetheless, he was terrified. What would Jay-Z say if he found out? Or T-Pain? Or his mother?

He heard the click of the door handle and a doctor walked in.

"Mr. Carter?"

"Call me Wayne."

"We've gotten the results back. It's malignant."

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