Read My Best Friend's Bucket List: Volume One for Free Online Page A

engaged.” I
said and sat on the couch, looked at the ceiling.
    “ What the fuck? Why did
she fuck you then?” Dick asked.
    “ One last hurrah I
suppose.”
    “ That's fucked up. She
should know better. At least you got some.”
    “ At least I did. I'll see
ya in the morning,” I stretched out on the couch, pulling the
blankets on me, “I'm gonna hit the hay.”
    “ Good night,
man.”
    “ Night.” I replied. Dick
shut off the lights and retreated to his room. I fell back asleep
immediately.
    I'm standing in a graveyard, the Autumn wind
blows leaves around me. I'm dressed in a charcoal colored suit.
There is a rotted dozen roses in my fist. I stand before an open
grave. Only inside the open coffin, is me. I'm looking down on
myself.
    Lorrie and Dick stare down at my corpse. I
try to yell at them, to tell them I'm not really dead. I walk
toward them and stop. There faces are grim. I reach out to grab
Lorrie's arm, my hand goes through, like I'm air. I'm wind.
    The wind blows and with it comes the scent
of pancakes and frying bacon. I shiver and look in the direction of
the scent. My dad stands at a kitchen stove. He's cooking up
pancakes and bacon. There is a long bloody slash on his throat,
below his chin, strings of meaty flesh blow in the wind. Blood
drips from the wound onto the bacon and pancakes.
    “ Dad.” I say. He looks at
me and smiles. “You're bleeding all over the breakfast.”
    Dad laughs, then says, “Join me. It's fun.
Even the food tastes saltier.”
    I say, “I can't. I have unfinished
business.”
    “ Oh yeah? What's that?” Dad
asks. He smiles smugly.
    “ There's this
girl...she...I don't know. She makes me feel real, like I matter.
You probably don't get it.” I say.
    “ I get it, Son. YOU don't
get it.” Dad says.
    “ What don't I get?” I say.
The pancakes soak up the thick sticky throat blood. The blood burns
in the frying bacon pan.
    Dad says, “She will never love you.” He
pauses. “But you know that don't you?”
    I say, “Anything is possible, right?” But I
don't believe it.
    Dad says, “Will animals ever speak fluent
English? Will men ever stop killing each other? Will we ever stop
wanting things we can't ever have? Is the whole world doomed?”
    “ I don't have those
answers.” I say.
    “ And that is why you need
to except your fate, Tucker.” He says.
    “ What's that?” I
say.
    “ You will die trying to
convince Lorrie Lovitt that she should love you.” Dad says. He
takes a bite of blood soaked pancakes, he chews, bits fall out of
the slit in his throat.
    I shiver violently and...
    I woke up shaking. The
sliding glass door that lead to the second story balcony of our
apartment, that door at the foot of the couch, it was open. Cold
early Autumn air wafted through. I smelled pancakes and
bacon for real.
    Irritation mixed with overwhelming dark
depression settled over me. The skies outside were cloaked in dark
gray scattered clouds. The sun was their bitch. My stomach and
throat burned, head in agonizing pain. I needed a drink.
    I turned away from the now
closed sliding glass door. The scene that played out in front of me
was almost as bad as the pointless omelet scene from Spider-man 3. The scene
where Harry and Mary Jane did the Twist while making omelets for
lunch.
    Lorrie and Dick were cooking up pancakes and
bacon. They worked in unison like a well oiled machine. Lorrie had
changed and looked fresh as a daisy. Dick seemed very rested also.
The two flipped pancakes and fed each other piping hot bacon.
    Good for them, they will be too preoccupied
to notice I woke up, I will just return to bed.
    “ TUCK! YOU'RE UP, MAN!” It
was the voice of Dick, my brother from another mother.
    “ HEY, TUCK!” The voice of
Lorrie Lovitt squeaked.
    “ Fuck.” I whispered and
laid back down anyway. The bacon smell forced a growl from my
liquor sodden stomach. I thought of my dream and immediately
decided against solid food for that day.
    Walking past the love birds, I