My Best Friend's Bucket List: Volume One (15 page)

Milton hired a couple of Rednecks to kidnap
me and take me to an undisclosed location, so that he may torture
me or something to that effect. It didn't really matter to me. I
had had sharp knives to my wrists on many drunken occasions. I was
not afraid to die, nor did I feel like I deserved to live any
specific allotted time.

Dick was already dead. I had blown my shot
with Lorrie Lovitt. We kissed and now she knew she loved me. But I
sent her away and told her I needed space. Now I was in this
situation and wanted nothing but for Milton and his Rednecks to
kill me.

There was the sound of pacing in the room.
The feeling of heat radiated from somewhere. A fireplace maybe?
There was a very woodsy smell in the air. We were probably in the
mountains. Milton had said he wanted a place where no one would
hear me scream. Assuming of course, I even felt like screaming. At
the time apathy bled through me.

“
Where do you want us when you take off the blindfold?” Asked
a Redneck voice.

“
Just stick around, I'm still figuring how I'm gonna do
this.”

“
Is he even awake?” Asked a different Redneck
voice.

“
I don't know! You guys shut the fuck up and let me think!”
Milton screamed.

“
Why you so nervous? You never killed a man before?” A Redneck
said.

“
Of course not you idiot. I'm an EMT. I save lives.” Was
Milton's reply.

“
Shit don't get all salty, I was just wonderin'.”

I cleared my throat, loud and obvious. The
room fell to deadly silence.

“
Excuse me,” I said. “Can we get this shit over
with?”

“
Get what over with?!” Milton asked, rage in his
voice.

“
My execution. You brought me here to kill me, right?” I said,
thick sarcasm in my words.

“
You shut the fuck up,Tuck Sawyer! Just close your mouth, I'm
in control now!” Milton screamed, he seemed very on
edge.

“
Oh, I see. This is about control to you?” I asked.

I heard fast footfalls coming at me, I
braced myself, eyes squeezed tight under the blindfold. My head
jerked back, pain exploded again, a blunt object smacked my
forehead. Warm blood trickled down my nose, past my lips, onto the
lap of my jeans.

I wanted to shout
profanities, but for some reason something inside me forbid it,
instead I laughed hysterically. Like Brad Pitt in
Fight Club.
Is that why
I laughed? Because I'd seen someone do it in a movie? Do I really
not care? Or is some force just taking over and refusing to let me
be a pussy right now?

“
STOP LAUGHING!” Milton shouted. I laughed harder.

“
You finally are starting to get it?” I said, then spit blood
from my lips.

“
What are you talking about?” Milton asked, calmer, he
breathed heavy.

“
Anybody can get pushed to the point of insanity. Anyone can
get fed up to a point where they will take a life.”

“
Is that why you tried to kill me? Lorrie pushed you to the
point of insanity?”

I laughed again, “I didn't try to kill you.
I was going to kill you, then I decided not to. Not the same as
trying, I could have done it easy. Lorrie didn't drive me to
anything, I felt you were an equation that needed to be erased from
the proverbial chalk board.”

“
You don't fucking make sense, man! You piss me off so bad. I
already know what the deal was, you wanted me out of the picture
because Lorrie is falling in love with me.” Milton said. I growled
and fought against the nylon ropes.

“
FUCK YOU! Lorrie has higher standards, FUCK FACE!” Spittle
shot from my mouth. I wanted to break the ropes and stab him to
death this time. I had to calm myself. Yelling wasn't going to fix
anything. “Lorrie doesn't love you, that's the only way I can put
it.”

“
But she will.” Came the chillingly calm response, “With you
out of the way, she will run into my arms.”

“
But you can't kill me. You're a
hero
, Milton, you
save lives
.” I wasn't
begging or pleading, I was egging him on.

“
We'll see about that fucker.” He said to me, “Take off his
blindfold and load the rifle.” Milton said to the Rednecks. I
couldn't help but smile. It was time for my curtain call. Lorrie
Lovitt the angel. The chest nut eyed anime queen. The apple of my
sodden eyes.

The world suddenly became bright. The
blindfold fell from my eyes to the floor. The cabin was small and
had the vibe of a Pepperidge Farm cookie bag. The walls looked like
real wood, the floors too. The interior itself was colorful and
surreal. It was out of a Disney cartoon.

It took me a full five minutes to place
it.

A beefy fat Redneck in bib overalls stood
next to Milton. Another beefy fat Redneck stood beside me. Milton
wore his EMT uniform. He had sweated through the shirt and his
homo-erotic emo hair was visibly soiled.

The Redneck to my right sized me up. He
stared at my eyes, then walked back to join his buddy, he seemed
bothered by something. The other Redneck handed Milton the rifle.
The same rifle that had already left several divots in my face.

Milton did not look intimidating holding a
rifle. He looked the way I imagined Betty Boop would look if she
clutched a rifle. Just not scary. Maybe it was the cabin we were
in.

I didn't know what to
think when I realized the cabin we were in had been showcased on
the
Food Network
on a program called
Unwrapped.
For a split second I
questioned whether or not severe blood loss had occurred and now
this was a hallucination.

The candy colored rainbow sofas was
oversized. The rugs were of splashed jaw breaker colors. The lamps
and lighting fixtures were all different bright colors and looked
edible.

This was a Willy Wonka wet dream.

The clock and phone were sixties retro,
turquoise. Coffee tables and metal chairs were all retro. The pit
of the fireplace was a clowns mouth, the mantle and above made up
the eyes and big red nose.

“
Look's like this is where you die, Tuck Sawyer.” Milton said
dramatically. I could see it in his eyes, he also loved Lorrie
Lovitt and maybe, just maybe, he might actually kill me. And to be
killed in this cabin, by this loser, over a girl that loves
me.
For some reason,
right then, it made me want to live.

“
You're going to kill me here? In this place? How the hell did
you break into the Johnson Jelly Bean Cabin?” The second I asked
the question I knew the answer. I laughed at my own ignorance. The
last name on Milton's shirt, Johnson. “You are an heir to the
Johnson Jelly Bean company? You gotta be fucking kidding
me.”

“
Shut up, Tuck!” Milton cried.

“
Doesn't the fucking FBI have this place bugged or something?
I heard that a year ago on the news.”

“
WHAT?” One of the Rednecks said, nervously.

“
SHUT UP, TUCK!” Milton cried out.

“
You didn't tell your buddies here about your dad and
granddaddy? Shady characters.” I said and whistled. “Out here in
these very woods, is where they allegedly killed the head of
Crimson Candy Enterprises. What was his name?”

“
I'LL KILL YOU! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Milton wailed.

“
Ted something, Theodore a rather...”

“
YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!”

“
There was a law suit over the Johnson Jelly Bean Clown. He
held a striking resemblance to the Crimson Candy Clown.” I was
talking to the Rednecks, who were visibly terrified now. “Oh, yeah.
The FBI came down here to investigate. They claimed The Johnson
Family had ties with the Russian mob.” I paused for effect. Milton
was livid and almost to the point of tears. “So maybe you are a
killer, just like your daddy and grandpa.” I said, tied to a chair
with a bloody face. “Why you chose to save lives when they were so
adamant on hurting others, I will never know.”

“
I FUCKING HATE YOU.” Milton said.

“
Then pull THE FUCKING TRIGGER.” I yelled, mockingly. Milton
did something then I will never forget. He set down the rifle. He
spit on the wood floor. Went over to a black gym bag that I guess
had been there the whole time.

He's going to torture me, I thought. The bag
was full of tools to do such things. Razors and pliers. Salt and
lemon juice.

But no. Milton pulled out a cream colored
folder. He opened it. The Rednecks were dead silent as they watched
events I'm sure they didn't see coming unfold in front of them. The
shit that was going down was all kinds of personal.

“
You think you know what the fuck is going on in my life? You
think you know my family?” Milton paused, I assumed for effect,
“I'm not like them. I save people.”

“
Pussy. Just FUCKING KILL ME.” I said. The Rednecks looked
back and forth at us as we each took turns speaking.

“
I'm a pussy?” Milton said. A stupid question really. “Let's
see what I have here,” He consulted papers in his hands. “Tucker
Eugene Sawyer. Attempted suicide at age twelve. Admitted to a
psychiatric hospital for three days.”

I didn't see this coming. I hoped my poker
face would hold up.

“
So what?” I said.

“
You have an issue with your mommy, Tuck?” Oh, fuck, I
thought. “Because it says here on three separate accounts, you
tried to attack your mom with a, wait, I'm familiar with this,
a
large kitchen knife
. All three times you were under sixteen.”

“
So the fuck what?” I said, a little too defensive.

“
At age seventeen you burned down the boys bathroom at school,
you were removed from the premises and expelled. That same year the
school investigated you on accusations that you exposed your
erect genitals
to a
group of girls.”

“
Boys will be boys.” I said through grit teeth, squeezing
against the nylon bounds.

“
Hmm, let's see. Oh, this is gold. Hospitalized for seventeen
days at age twenty three. You tried to kill yourself in the
bathroom of a girl that dumped you! Seriously!” Milton broke into
genuine laughter. The Rednecks joined in.

“
Look, she didn't love me, fuck head. I had nothing to live
for.” I said, but the laughter just increased.

“
But now you have things to live for, dude.” Said the voice of
Dick Pickett, the ghost of my dead best friend and brother from
another mother. He sat Indian style at my feet, in the middle of an
intense game of
Jenga
with himself, he looked up. “Get out of this shit and go love
Lorrie you moron.”

“
Dude, fuck you, I just want to die and convince this faggot
Milton to kill me.” I said to Dick. I noticed the silence
immediately. When I looked up the three men stared at me. The
Redneck that had sized me up and seemed scared earlier
nodded.

“
Who the fuck are you talking too?” Asked the scared
Redneck.

“
No one.” I said poorly. He looked at his buddy and
Milton.

“
I knew this guy was trouble. He's fuckin' nuts and look at
the size of him. We just gotta get rid of him. He looks the type to
hold a grudge.” The scared one continued.

“
He ain't gonna do shit.” Said his Redneck buddy.

Milton smiled, “No, Tuck is going to be just
fine. He's going to kill himself.” Then he pulled my kitchen knife
from the gym bag. He took the knife I almost killed him with from
my home. “I'm going to give you this, you know what to do with
it.”

“
Dude, please don't.” Dick said as he carefully removed
a
Jenga
block
from the center.

“
What the fuck do I have to live for?” I said. Dick looked up,
his eyes said Lorrie Lovitt, his eyes said, the Bucket
List.

“
My point exactly.” Said Milton. He handed one of the Rednecks
the rifle. He and the other Redneck came from behind me, they
untied me. The other Redneck slapped a handcuff of my left wrist.
They set me on the floor, then my left wrist was cuffed to my left
ankle.

Milton handed me the knife. He smiled.

“
Slit your left wrist. Or he will shoot you.” Milton said, the
scared Redneck had the rifle on my head. It didn't really matter. I
put the knife to my wrist, the blade was cold, but I knew soon it
would burn against my skin.

“
Dude, please, Don't.” Dick said as he pulled another
Jenga
block, too close
to the center, the knife at the same time made contact with my
wrist.