 
MY BEST FRIEND'S BUCKET LIST

Volume 1.

a novella

by

Shane Grey

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Shane Grey

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

This novella is dedicated to Brenda Bryan, if not for her existence, none of this would exist.
CHAPTER 1

ME AND DICK MEET LORRIE LOVITT

(Six months before his death)

It was 2:46am and I was very close to giving up on finding the perfect porn clip to gratify myself to. I had work the next day at 3pm but sleep was the last thing on my mind. I had gone to Xhamster.com, Hardsextube.com, even dusted off Pornhub.com one of the first tube sites I had ever encountered.

I shut the lap top, rubbed my eyes, grabbed the car keys. A drive would ease the mind. Nothing ever went wrong while going for a little drive, I thought. The night was slightly cool despite the triple digit heat we had been having. It was 3am, exactly.

I pulled out onto the main street and headed south, windows down, cool air on my face, through my hair. The local college station played some classical guitar concerto. The guitar peaceful and surreal. The idea that I had to return to work that day vanished. Dealing with the hard headed, sometimes violent customers, vanished. I was one with the world around me, the Universe even.

Once again, I had the thought, the same as always on nights like these.

Just keep driving. Don't stop until you're sleepy Then stop at a cheap motel and sleep. Only to arise again, continue down the road headed, Nowhere. That's where I want to be, Nowhere.

My train of thought came to a crashing halt with the shriek of a woman. I opened my eyes in time to avoid hitting a homeless lady pushing an empty shopping cart. I hollered my apology out the window of the moving vehicle, hoping she could hear me.

Looking back I don't think the car was that close to hitting her. I imagine the blaring of some classical guitar concerto, screaming out of a speeding '79 Mercury Zephyr at 3 in the morning, probably spooked her as she to walked a crosswalk illegally.

The fantasy of kissing this city goodbye and French kissing my current life behind evaporated back into the apathy that was the current life I was leading. The sodium lights that lit up the overpass of the train tracks made everything look like bad tint on an old television. I breathed in the city air and realized if I had a pistol and a suit, I would be living in some Noir Film. The setting would be that I'm a private detective.

I'm a private detective, investigating the murder of a prostitute. I was hired by her twin sister who was the original target. I pass shitty hole in the wall bars, streetwalkers give the old evil eye. I think, it's been a long time since a belt of scotch, on the rocks of course. Because I'm fat paid, the best in the business. Just me, the cool city streets, and my case of the murdered twin prostitute.

That fantasy was slapped away by the vibrations of my Blackberry. I sped up to avoid a camera ticket on a yellow light, I made it, barely. Like we all do, I'm sure. Reaching deep into my jean pocket, I pulled out the phone. It was an Incoming Phone Call From, Dick. Though the screen read, Auntie Fucker.

"Yeh." I said into the phone.

"Hey, where you at?" Dick said.

"This ain't some ghetto phone commercial. What do you want?" I said.

"Are you as bored as I am?"

"You know I am." I replied.

"How fast can you get to downtown Chino?" Dick said.

"Kinda just down the street from there. Where you at?"

"This ain't a shitty cell phone commercial. I'm at the 24 hour McDonald's. Across the street from-"

"I know where it is. See ya in five." I said.

One thing you should know about me, I love fast food. I could eat it everyday and more so. Though I went to the gym 4 nights a week, it didn't matter. My diet consisted of: Water(H20), Mountain Dew Pitch Black(the best soda ever), Fast food(McDonald's, In-n-out, Tommy's Original Chili Burgers, Del Taco and Taco Bell). I had muscle, but still had body fat. But I was not gross looking. Women and girls called me handsome frequently. It's hard to describe so I will just say, Kevin James meets Johnny Cash, with less belly than Kevin James. Google the names if you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about.

Now, Dick, looked like a ridiculously tall, Paul Walker. Google him of you don't know what I mean. Women loved a really tall Paul Walker versus a stocky Johnny Cash.

The sad part was I had had more sexual partners in my life versus Dick's 15 sexual partners. All of his were fat, because he loved that. Dick loved large women. I preferred mine, petite and sweet.

The irony of it always killed me. A tall skinny guy loving large women. A stocky, chubby guy loving small petite women. But we never fought over girls. We had our preferences and even though most of the women I fell for relationship-wise always tried to be with Dick, he refused, and the fatties that tried to hit me up, I turned them over to Dick. It worked, somehow it worked until that night.

I pulled into a random parking space of the McDonald's. Dick sat on a grassy area, leaning against a large palm tree, California rocks.

Turning the car off, which was always a risk, I got out and headed toward him. His head was down and he seemed in very bad spirits.

"Hey, what's up, man?" I said and attempted to sit down next to him, Indian style. I fell on my ass, legs slightly crossed, ready to listen. "You awright?"

"Nah. I guess not." Dick replied, seemingly devastated. His gaze straight ahead.

"What happened?" I asked as gentle as could be mustered.

"Where were you right now when I called you?" He asked, darkly.

"Driving, man."

"Driving where?" Dick said. For some reason his tone gave me chills.

"Honestly, dude, Nowhere." I said.

"Yeah. Where might that be?" He said, a hostility in his voice. My temper reacted.

"I was just driving, hoping, like an idiot, to drive off to Nowhere." Now I was hopeless. I wanted to cry as I looked up. The sodium lamps in the parking lot didn't unleash the same power as the ones on the overpass. Dick looked at me, pure sadness behind his eyes.

"I'm down if you are." He said.

"Huh?" I said.

"I'm sick of it, TUCK! Sick of the rejection! Let's just fuckin' go. I wanna go!" Dick's eyes were red and he seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Take deep, controlled, breathes." He complied. Calming finally. I said calmly, "What happened?"

"I was set to meet a girl here. She was dynamite. Big thighs, ass, belly. We had been talking for a month. A car pulled up, it was the car she told me she would be in. I saw the car and got out of my car." Dick paused here to reminisce. "The driver, I'm sure was her, took one look at me, shook her head embarrassed and fled."

I thought about it, "Why would she flee in embarrassment?"

"Because, I told her, I looked like you. Stocky and big."

"I told you a thousand times to be honest. Big girls appreciate that."

"I know but I'm scared of rejection. Big chicks, most of them anyway, don't want to be with me." Dick said. He was right. It was hard for a big girl to be comfortable with someone who was fit and in shape. The truth was if Dick and I had ever engaged in fisticuffs or some struggle, he would perish. That didn't matter to most women, they wanted what looked good.

They were as bad as men.

But chubby girls were real and down to earth. Also most of them harbored insecurities and being with someone in shape was hard for them.

I loaded a heart broken Dick into my car. My own lack of a love life was becoming a weight on my shoulders as well. I could relate to the situation.

I drove north on the main street. My head full of the fantasy to driving far off, driving to Nowhere. I think we both had enough money to make it work for a week. Then we could get jobs at whatever place we ran out of cash in.

"DUDE! WATCH OUT!" Broke my concentration, yelled by Dick, I slammed the breaks to a halt. We were stopped in front of a Sloppy Deb's Food and Gas.

"Why the fuck did I just come to a screeching halt?"

"Because I need things. Jerky, drinks, candy. It was just a long way until next stop."

"Whatever, dude." I pulled into the parking lot of Sloppy Deb's. Right there under the fluorescent lighting was the most stunning girl I had ever seen. Not Scarlett Johansson stunning nor Kate Middleton stunning. But like some Anime character that had escaped from animation into the real world(not the MTV variety either, real reality). She was mighty slender, one would not think she was fit as a fiddle, but just plain slim. Her eyes were of glowing chestnuts. Her skin of the smoothest milk. She had to be some part of the Asian variety. But it was very faint in her looks. She had long toast brown hair.

I didn't lose my stare at her until Dick's shouts were loud enough and the crashing sound of my car going into a newspaper dispenser at thirty miles per hour shook me. My forehead smacked in the steering wheel on impact. I slammed the brakes, threw the car into park, everything was hazy.

The Zephyr was fine, so was Dick, his head and neck were fine. The newspaper dispenser had met its match. The chestnut eyed angel sprinted to the drivers side.

"Oh my god, are you OK?" She said. I was hazily locked in her gaze, her eyes burning me deeply like a thousand suns, light tears formed behind my eyes.

"We're good, ma'am." Dick said. "This car is pure American steel."

Her eyes left mine to travel toward the eyes of the voice in the car. She locked eyes with Dick, while my eyes were still locked on to hers, I felt my heart explode. The look in her eyes crushed me like the smallest insect in a stomping contest.

"Oh, hi," The angel blushed a deep crimson, her eyes still on Dick's. "I didn't see you sitting there. I thought there was only one guy..." Her sentence trailed off. She fluffed her hair nervously and smiled a smile that I swore would've killed me if my heart hadn't already been broken so many times.

I wanted to vomit. My fucking head was killing me. I forced my eyes away from hers, as hard as it was, forcing myself to look at the busted up dispenser. Suddenly I was a third wheel.

"Hey, back away from the car, I need to back up off the sidewalk." I said acidly at the angel. More hostility than I meant.

"Don't be rude." Dick said.

"Fuck you." Was my reply to him. "Sloppy Deb is probably calling the fucking cops as we speak."

"No she isn't." Said chestnut eyes.

"How do you know?" Inquired Dick.

"'Cause she's my mom, she hates the cops."

"Well how do you like that?" I said as sarcastic and irritatingly as I could. Popped the Zephyr into reverse, drove off the sidewalk, slammed it in park, pushed aside the sinking feeling in my stomach, got out and fought hard not to make eye contact with the chestnut angel.

Inside the store I apologized to Sloppy Deb. Chestnut introduced herself to us.

"I'm Lorrie Lovitt." She said. My heart hammered at her awesome name.

"Dick Pickett." Said Dick and they shook hands. Now it was my turn.

"Lorrie Lovitt, it's nice to meet you, Tuck Sawyer." I said charmingly, trying to convince her I wasn't a total cock.

"It's nice to meet you both." Lorrie said, her eyes piercing me, they made me ill in a good way. "Excuse me, but I have to get back to trying to change the flat on our car."

"OK." Dick said, but there was something behind his eyes, he bee-lined it to the beef jerky. I rushed after him.

"Dude, that chick is fucking hot." I said.

"Yeah, she is." Dick said, his eyes on dried meat, "She's totally into me."

I felt even more sick now and threatened even.

"Yeah, what makes you think that?" I asked.

"It's obvious, man." And it really was. It still made me furious.

"Yeah, well she's too skinny for you."

"I know." He said, still not looking up.

"So, I'm going to go help her change that tire. Then she will see that I'm the man for her."

"You sure your head is OK?" Dick finally looked up at me. "You have a pretty big shiner on your forehead. You'll definitely look like the elephant man tomorrow." He turned back to the jerky. He was in full snack mode. The guy could pack away junk food like a depraved teenager, he never gained a pound.

"I'm fine, Dick." I said, feeling irritable as ever.

"Where the hell did the hostility come from?" It was still kinda funny to me that after all these years he could tell when I was saying his name or actually calling him a penis.

"I'm good. You're just being paranoid." I played it off.

"OK." Dick said nonchalantly. He was trying to smell the jerky through its plastic confines.

Outside I found Lorrie staring at a jack and the flat tire. She looked perplexed as all hell.

"Hey, I figured you could use a hand, you know, to help." My sentences were off, being around her alone made me scared, like a fucking kitten.

"Sure, eh, you know how to-"

"Oh, yeah, I done it many times." I said obviously nervous. She smiled and it made everything fine. I changed the tire, she watched, impressed. It didn't take long. When I was done I put the jack back in her trunk. She smiled big and googly eyed at me. My soul melted. I could live off of her smile.

"Hey. What'd I miss?" Came the voice of Dick. He was chomping on jerky, still looking handsome as fuck, chewing with a Academy Award Winning grin.

"I just changed her tire." I said proudly. But when I looked at Lorrie her stare was burnt on Dick's body and his grin.

"Good job, man." He said to me.

"I'm sure you could've have done it too." Lorrie said, blushing again.

"Not likely, he doesn't have the upper body strength." I added.

"It's true." Dick confirmed, sucking down a bottle of Mountain Dew, before tearing open a large bag of Peanut M&M's.

"You look like you could handle any task." Lorrie said. I was getting fed up.

"You think your mom will let me wash up." I asked Lorrie.

"Huh?" She looked at me, her concentration broken. "Yeah sure, Chuck."

"It's Tuck." She didn't hear me. She was engaged in conversation with Dick. I looked at the two, they seemed made for each other. It wasn't fair. I sighed loudly, looked at an imaginary watch. They didn't take the bait.

I went in the store, explained why the wash up was necessary, Sloppy Deb was nice about it. She showed me to the restroom. Inside the small one seater, I stared at the mirror.

My shoulders were bulky, my biceps mighty, triceps protruding. Even my chest was coming in nicely. It just didn't make sense. Then I saw the reflection of my forehead, it looked like shit. Like I had gone twelve rounds with Rocky.

I wanted to be at home on my bed(on Dick's couch)listening to The Cure or Death Cab. I wanted 13 beers. The urge to shake Lorrie Lovitt out of her lust was pulsating in every muscle. I shook my head, washed up.

Outside. Lorrie leaned on her car, Dick had his mouth on hers. They were in full embrace, tongues deep in each others mouths. I didn't want them to notice me as I crept to the side of the building to puke my fucking guts out. It was a success. But it did little to rest the dark cloud that had formed in my soul.

I guess they heard me. Dick was at my side when I finished. Lorrie stood next to him.

"Dude, you alright?" He asked.

"Yeh. I just gotta get outta here, get home and rest." I said. Staggering slightly as I stood straight.

"Oh my god, do you, like, want some Pepto or Seven-up? My mom won't charge you." Lorrie said, sympathy in her soft voice. I ignored the offer.

I stumbled to the Zephyr, realizing I suddenly felt really dizzy, the world went black before I could get to the drivers side door. The last thing I remembered, hitting the asphalt cheek first, it didn't hurt. I welcomed the cold hard pavement.

"TUCK!" I heard Dick shout.

"OH MY GOD!" Shouted Lorrie, "MOM, call the ambulance!"

Then everything was silent as I fell into darkness.
CHAPTER 2

I Was Technically NOT In A Coma

(Dick disappears, I claim to have a black belt)

I am sleeping in her bed. Last night I solved the case of the dead twin prostitute. The big sister claimed she watched a movie the night her sister was murdered. But masturbated to a woman on screen. She watched pornography. The perpetrator snuck in through the window unnoticed, crept upstairs, slit the throat of her twin, while down stairs she ejaculated all over the pleather couch.

I traced the knife left at the scene to Barney's Fine Cutlery. A cutlery store owned by the dead twin's ex-lover Barney Hiller. The knife used in the killing wasn't even on shelves yet. Meaning only one person had access to such a weapon, Barney. He killed the twin because she left him and went back to the life of prostitution.

I awake in the living twins bed, her name is Lorrie, she has beautiful chestnut eyes.

"You really are the best private dick in town, thank you for solving the case."

"No, thank you for solving my dick, you got a mouth like a vacuum cleaner, doll face." And it's true, she is so untouched and fresh. Like a porcelain doll.

"Why don't you rest. Lie back down and close your eyes. I'll make us some tea and toast with jam."

I lie back, close my eyes. What an easy case. Cut and dry. No other possibilities. Of course unless...Wait...No that would be absurd. Unless for some reason the living twin went to Barney's under the guise of her sister, slept with him or used her vacuum cleaner skills, lifted the knife, came home and slit her sisters throat.

Nah, she wouldn't do that.

A cool blade rests on my throat. I open my eyes to see two fiery chestnuts meet my gaze.

"You didn't figure it out until now, did you?"

"Uh uh."

"Now it seem it's too late, huh?"

"Uh huh."

"Take a small sip so you don't choke, Tom! TOM!" The living twin said, her voice concerned, her facial expressions grief stricken.

"What's going on?" Came the strong male voice. But only the living twin and I are in the black and white colored room. WAIT A MINUTE. WHY THE HELL IS THE WORLD BLACK AND WHITE?

Everything goes dark. I hear voices in a far away place.

"He said he wanted a drink, then something about knives and female ejaculation."

"He has a crazy imagination."

"Tom," Came the soft voice, "Drink some water."

"It's not Tom, It's Tuck." The male voice said and laughed lightly.

"The last name throws me off, you know, Tom Sawyer."

TOM SAWYER? TUCK SAWYER! THAT'S ME!

My eyes shot open, Lorrie Lovitt and my best friend Dick Pickett stood over me. Lorrie and her chestnut brown eyes flickered in the gloom of the hospital room.

"Fuck." I said and tried to sit up. I blushed a deep red, realizing I wasn't wearing underwear or any clothing outside of a paper thin gown.

"Don't get up dude, you have a concussion." Dick said. He placed a light restraining hand on my shoulder.

"I have work. What time is it?" I asked noticing that Dick and Lorrie looked very sleep deprived. The thick curtains of the room hid any conditions outside.

"It's about 1:30." Lorrie said.

"That doesn't make sense, I picked Dick up at around 3am. How could it be 1:30am?" I was going insane and backwards in time.

"It's not, man, it's 1:34pm. I already called your work and told them you were in the hospital, you're covered."

"Thanks, man." I felt a warm tinge for my best friend, he had my back and was taking care of me. I had been an asshole about the whole Lorrie situation. So what? The two were in love. Dick deserved to be happy. My own feelings were not important.

"Do you think you can go get the thing I got for Tuck out of the car?" He said to Lorrie.

"Of course." She said, taking the keys from him, kissing him on the cheek, then leaving. Dick looked at me with concern.

"I'm gonna be fine, man." I said.

"I know. But I don't know about me. This thing with Lorrie, I don't know about it."

"What the hell do you mean, don't know about it? You two are the perfect specimen." I said and meant it but still somehow tasted acid.

"You know how I feel about certain body types and we...well, we tried IT." Dick said. My head still hurt, I was trying to fathom what he meant.

"You tried what?"

"You know, to, like, DO IT. And I had some problems."

"I WAS IN A COMA AND YOU GUYS WERE TRYING TO FUCK?!" I couldn't believe it. The nerve of those two.

"You weren't in a coma, dude. Don't be all dramatic, you were just unconscious and the doctor wouldn't let us see you, so we found a store room and-"

"WHOA. Okay, I get it. What was the problem?"

"Her body. It's just so small and you can feel bones and muscle. It's weird. I'm not used to it. I tried to focus on fleshy parts, but it wasn't helping."

"What excuse did you use?" I asked.

"The fact that my best friend is in the hospital and that we were in a hospital store room. Maybe I can get it up at some point, but I might have to tell her the truth, that I'm not physically attracted to her."

There was a slight THUMP sound from behind Dick. The sound was Lorrie Lovitt dropping a paper bag. She had heard the last part of his confession. Tears streamed down her cheeks and plastic bottles of Limited Edition Mountain Dew Pitch Black spilled out of the bag, rolling around in different directions, everything was still accept for those bottles, they seemed on a mission to all go separate directions.

"Is that true?" Was all she could say, her mouth quivering, her hands shaking. Her pale face turning beet red at an alarming rate.

"Yeah, kinda." Dick said. His face unreadable. Lorrie bolted down the hall away from the doorway.

"Shit." Dick muttered under his breath.

"Hey, Auntie-fucker, hand me bottle of Dew and fucking go after her, would ya?" I said.

I was watching Law and Order: SVU. I watched it and got slightly involved. Then realized that even though I loved Law and Order: SVU and Fairly Odd Parents. I chose Fairly Odd Parents to be the most pleasant. I tried to down the bottle of Mountain Dew Pitch Black before any of the staff noticed, a couple nurses had peeked in and I managed to shield the bottle with the bed sheet.

I clicked the giant 80's looking remote, conveniently attached to an even more 80's looking cord, I stopped on Mad Men. Realizing it was a repeat from season 2, still unable to change it, chugging the remainder of the Dew Black. Someone cleared their throat loudly and suggestively. It was a not-so-happy looking nurse. Her brows furrowed, arms crossed.

"Just what do you think you doin'?" She said.

"What you don't like Mad Men? Seriously? It's TV's most watched drama that's not on TNT." I smiled at the sarcastic joke the nurse apparently didn't get.

"You got a concussion, you can't be drinkin' pop. 'Specially Mountain Dew Pitch Black. That ain't gonna do you no good."

"You want one?" I offered attempting some type of peace offering.

"I'm tellin' the doctor." She said shuffling off.

I sat up in bed. Retrieved my clothes from a clear hospital bag hanging from a hook, I assumed was for hanging bags. I dressed quickly. It felt good to have underwear on. I cracked another Dew Black and quickly laced my Chuck's(Converse All-Stars some of you may call them).

I was about to AWOL from a hospital against medical advice. But someone had to intervene with the whole Lorrie and Dick situation. The hope in me was that he had gone after her. One would think one could assess the probables of merely walking with a concussion. That I could not.

I stood up fast, as usual, almost went face first into the empty bed next to mine. The caffeine was kicking in but not fast enough. I felt drunk and something like Thorazine was in my system. Pocketing the Dew Black bottles, as much my pockets would allow, I stumbled down the busy hospital corridor trying to be inconspicuous.

Stumbling here and there. I more than likely looked drunker than a skunk on a Sunday. Which made sense in my mind at the time. Chugging the Dew Black, burped, stumbled along. The elevators and stairwell were just a few feet away. I was going to make it, I was going to escape from the hospital! My mind flashed to Lorrie Lovitt and her teary eyes, I knew in that moment I was escaping for her. Not Dick. My best friend. But to see Lorrie Lovitt smile again, no red face, no tears.

"THAT'S HIM RIGHT THERE! THE ONE WITH THE LIMP AND SODA POP!" I heard the voice of the upset nurse.

"SIR, HOLD IT! SIR, YOU ARE IN NO CONDITION TO LEAVE THE PREMISES AT THIS TIME!" I heard a stern male voice shout. I was at the stairwell door. I turned to them, they were behind me, far enough away.

"Stay back or I'll break out my black belt karate, motherfuckers!" I shouted quickly throwing the empty Dew bottle in their direction. I opened the door to the stairwell, hopped the steps three at a time, no doubt I would face plant at some point.

The overhead speakers screamed out, "CODE GRAY TO THE STAIRWELL, CODE GRAY TO THE STAIRWELL, CODE GRAY, STAIRWELL."

I didn't know what the fuck that meant but it made me hop faster. I made a fast decision to descend all the way to the service exit. The doors used by the cooks, bedmakers, and maintenance crew. The very last door on ground level.

I made it to the bottom.

The door read: Level 1. It looked locked tight. I smashed my shoulder into it. The door shot open, smacking against the outside wall of the building. There was a loud feminine shriek. The smell of cigarette smoke hit my nostrils. The cold air chilled my piping hot skin. It was clearly fucking Winter out here.

Alone smoking a cigarette, Lorrie Lovitt crouched against the speckled wall. The door slamming open had shaken her. She looked up at me, her eyes re-piercing my soul, she stood up fast.

"Oh my god. What the hell are you doing out of bed and dressed with soda in your pockets?"

"I'm escaping, duh." I tried to make a joke.

"Fucking you and Dick just turn everything into a joke. You need serious medical attention and here you are ready to run from something you need. Why are you two so self destructive?" She wasn't really asking, the whole time she stared me in the eyes, it hurt me.

"Smoking is also self destructive. Looks like you just took a big bite of hypocrite pie."

"Whatever. You need to get back in bed."

"You know where my Zephyr is?" I asked ignoring her talk of me going to bed.

"Your what?"

"My car."

"Yeah. I have it."

"Okay, let's go." I started walking toward the back parking lot.

"Whoa, I don't think so, Tuck."

"Hey, you called me, Tuck." Fireworks went off in my stomach.

"That's your name, duh." She said making my same joke, it made me smile. "Don't try to change the subject, I'm taking you back in there." Lorrie placed a light restraining hand on my arm. Her hand was soft and surprisingly warm. I wanted to kiss her, but forced it out of my head, this made me squeeze my eyes shut. "Oh my god, are you OK?" She asked putting her other cooler hand on my forehead. It smelled like exotic flowers and cigarettes. Greatest smell ever.

"I'm fine. Where's Dick?" I asked.

"He ran off, I don't know. He had his car, I drove yours here. I was being stubborn and told him to leave me alone. And he did something no guy has ever done before."

"What?" I was scared of what idiotic thing it could've been.

"He listened. He left me alone." Lorrie was saddened and it hurt me to see her that way. She looked up at me. "Hand over the soda, I told Dick not to bring you that junk. Let's get you back inside, back in bed."

"Not a good plan. I just threatened the admitting doctor with karate. We gotta hit the road Miss Lovitt." I said and shot her my ace-up-the-sleeve grin. She smiled and I think...blushed a little?

"You're not a charming as you think." She said with a curious grin. "Fine. But I'm driving."

"Fine by me. And yes, I'm pretty damn charming." I said. Followed Lorrie Lovitt to the Zephyr. We sped off into the afternoon to find Dick.

We pulled into the parking lot of Johnny Basil's Pizza. Dick's car was nowhere in sight. Lorrie's hair shined in the light of the early evening. We had drove hours from that far hospital to be back in the Inland Empire. The sun wasn't quite settling down, but on its way.

I literally had to put the pain and devastation I had from Lorrie Lovitt's innocence on hold. Suck it up and swallow down. I would have rather died than been this close to a woman I was falling in love with.

Lorrie had a certain away about life. Like everything was going to be gravy. No matter what happened, things would be alright. She went on long runs for fun! She volunteered at the V.A. Hospital, for free! I didn't know all this at this point in the story, so I will shut up now.

I smelled pepperoni pizza, salivated, then wanted to tackle Lorrie and force her to confess how she felt about me. The feeling I had was that Lorrie Lovitt could fall in love with me.

Johnny Basil's Pizza was where Dick delivered pizza's part time. But I knew he was not there, immediately. I let Lorrie lead us in. The place was owned by Johnny Basil, go figure. It was odd for a sit down place like it to deliver, but anyone in their zone got to have the best pizza in the world brought to them. The place was dark and set a relaxing mood that made you wanna guzzle beer and wine, then gorge on pizza or calzone, put some Dean Martin on the jukebox and relax.

There was a large indoor fountain in the center of the restaurant. The fountain was a custom job. It depicted a large pizza pie on a pedestal, water streams shot out of the pepperoni. The smell in the air was always of cooking food, fresh cool water, and the tart smell of wine. Johnny only had three delivery guys and they had to split up days. The other two guys that weren't Dick were Nico and Lorenzo, Johnny's nephews.

Nico was on duty that day. He looked like a 23 year old Joe Pesci. His hair was always in full pomade and he only wore button down shirts with slacks. His shoes were shinier than most Catholics virginity. Nico always chewed gum and talked like everyone in the room knew what was going on. There was no such thing as an inside joke to Nico Saucony.

Nico suffered a shake down at the hands of the petite angel Lorrie Lovitt. For some reason she had trouble believing that he had no info on Dick's whereabouts.

Three of us stood in the corner near the jukebox. Lorrie conducted the following interrogation.

Lorrie: "You seen Dick around here today?"

Nico: "Nah. He's off."

Lorrie: "You sure about that?"

Nico: "Positive. I put it on my Mama's secret sauce recipe."

Lorrie: "Does Dick ever swing by on his days off?"

Nico: "If he does hes got Tuck with him. They drink themselves stupid, scare off the customers, gorge on calzone. In fact, Johnny said he don't want Tuck hanging around here no more."

Me: "Sorry, Nico, just let Johnny know I was escorting this lady here."

Nico to Me: "Awright, but he ain't gonna like it."

Me: "I can handle Johnny."

Lorrie: "Has Dick tried to contact you today? Text? Email?"

Nico: "No texts. I don't have email."

Lorrie: "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Basil."

Nico: "It's not Basil. It's Saucony."

Lorrie: "Thank you, Mr. Saucony, you may want to consider getting an email address."

After that Lorrie shook down the bartender, a cat named Miles, he didn't know where Dick was nor had he seen him. I wasn't worried but Lorrie had this fire behind her eyes. Like she felt that she had been the one who fucked it up. I wanted to hold her. Of course I did not.

We got back into the Zephyr. Lorrie behind the wheel, me stepping all over months of fast food trash and Mountain Dew Pitch Black bottles. Out of my peripherals I saw Lorrie turn to me.

"Sorry I went all Law and Order in there. I guess I can get a little whacky when I'm determined. It just doesn't make sense that Dick would disappear. You sure you called your guys' place?"

"I'm positive. He's probably just cruising around."

"I should've never taken him to McDonald's to pick up his car." She said aloud to no one in particular.

"Is your car still at Deb's?" I asked.

"Yep."

"Let's go get your car then go back to the apartment and wait for Dick." I suggested.

"You can't drive concussion boy, forget it." Lorrie rolled her eyes and I could see real agitation setting in. She was still more precious than any woman I had ever seen.

I stared at the glove box. Realized I hadn't been in the glove box for sometime. Opened it, rummaged through it. We stayed in park, car off. Nothing new or interesting was in the box.

Then I saw a neon blue card. The card was a V.I.P. Pass from Lou's Chubby Chaser Lounge. A strip club featuring thick, chubby, and large women. I had taken Dick there 3 months earlier. He became a regular after that. I remembered it as one of our greater bonding moments. We had a real "Guys Night." The girls weren't half bad either, the smaller chubby ones anyway.

So I realized that's where Dick was. But I had Lorrie Lovitt with me. Bringing her there would probably only make things worse. She already knew Dick had physical attraction issues with her. I thought if I could ditch her, then I could step out and hit Lou's and have a talk with Dick. A plan already formed in my head.

"Look, why don't we just go back to our place and wait out Dick. After the concussion wears off I'll drive you to your car. But that probably won't be necessary, because Dick will be back. I have ice cold beer or warm bourbon if you like." I said gently.

"Bourbon sounds awesome." Lorrie said. The sleep showing in her eyes. "You better not be trying to seduce me or get me drunk, something like that. With enough bourbon and the night I've had, it just might work." She said starting the car. Slightly flirtatious? Joking? Either way my loins responded to that smile and comment of hers. I had to take a deep breathe and think about baseball.

We pulled out onto the main street and headed toward me and Dick's apartment.
CHAPTER 3

I Get Lorrie Lovitt Drunk and Learn a Few Things from My Uncle

(Cynthia Garcia, The Lorrie Lovitt Mixtape Playlist)

Lorrie Lovitt downed a third finger of bourbon on the rocks(that means ice). She was already hazy eyed and her size was the problem. Lorrie was more than likely legally drunk. Her slender and fit body soaked up the liquor like a sponge.

I sat next to her nibbling on Nacho Cheese Doritos and sipping Mountain Dew Pitch Black. I managed to convince Lorrie there was Yager in the Dew. Death Cab For Cutie's song Lack Of Color played in the background as the booze coursed through her thin veins.

"Did you call him again?" Lorrie asked.

The defeat behind her eyes angered me. But Dick could not be at fault for this. The whole situation had run into overdrive. It was 6:34 p.m. This fiasco started at 3 a.m.

"Yeah. His phone is either off or dead." I said.

It was partly true. Lorrie stared straight ahead at the blank TV screen, I stared at her, trying to soak in her looks and energy. Because she had alcohol in her system, my staring was not creepy.

Keep in mind, creepy or weird, is only decided by those who witness what chicks consider "creepy or weird."

"You should lie down." I suggested.

Lorrie looked at me. Her eyes were glazed over.

"You want to join me?" She said. Yeah she was drunk.

"I can't. I have work to do on the computer." I said, coldly.

"But you make me feel good, Tuck. You make me feel the way Dick does, but in a different way." Lorrie said. Before laying her head on my chest.

Was I Edward or Jacob in this situation? Google the names together if you have been living under a rock.

I cringed. My chest hurt. I wanted my headphones. Dick was my best friend. I couldn't touch her, she was Dick's and she really didn't want me. The part where she didn't want me, that part killed me the worst, I kept a straight face. Years practicing being a man kept my face hard, strong.

"Yeah, well, I'm here to make you feel comfortable." I said.

"You make me feel sexy." Lorrie said. This made me feel guilty. It scared me. I was not sexy to her, not her type at all, it sucked. But she was buzzed and headed down a drunk tunnel.

"You could use another hit of bourbon." I said. Taking her glass, I went into the kitchen, made her another drink.

"Dick'll be home soon, huh?"

"Yeh." I said. Pouring her three fingers of bourbon on the rocks.

I brought her the drink. She sat blankly on the couch. Friday I'm In Love by The Cure played out loud. My computer played it loud for Her.

For the next few minutes I had a fantasy that Lorrie and I were berry picking. She smiled, I loved her to death, I knew she wouldn't love me the way women were supposed to. I could not shake her of Dick.

"Just lie back, take a nap." I suggested.

"I'm just really worried." Lorrie slurred. I took the empty glass from her.

"You've only known Dick for almost 24 hours. I've known him for years, he's fine, trust me." I said. Lorrie's eyes were now fighting the heaviness of her eyelids.

"Maybe I can lie down for just a minute." She said. I stood up allowing her to stretch out on the couch. Innocence by The Airborne Toxic Event was playing. The first line was totally how I felt for Lorrie Lovitt.

"I lost my innocence today I could feel her in my bones..."

Staring at a now sleeping Lorrie Lovitt, the two eyeballs in my skull suddenly burned, I'm sorry to report, but I cried like a school girl with a skinned knee. It was then that I decided to do two things.

  1. Arrange a Lorrie Lovitt Playlist Mixtape.

  2. Do everything in my power to fix the relationship between Dick and Lorrie. I needed her to be happy.

In the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face in hopes of getting rid of the severe redness only that level of weepage can bring on. My forehead still looked pretty messed up from the accident. I guess it could've looked worse considering.

Lorrie slept, still. She would be out for a while. The computer continued to play depressing songs. She looked 10 times more like an angel. Her breathes were small and shallow. The urge to lie with her and hold her crept into my body.

I fought it. Grabbed my car keys. Locked up behind me.

In the car, driving. I realized that the route to Lou's Chubby Chaser Lounge hit 4th and Crest Ave. Right past my Uncle Tommy's place. He was enjoying his retirement watching TV on DVD the last time I had seen him. His idea was to catch up on all the shows he had missed while working all those years.

Uncle Tommy had worked graveyard shift as a hospital janitor for decades. In that time he only slept during the day, ran errands in the evening, then went to work. In short, Uncle Tommy had missed out on a lot of TV shows.

I drove down the main street to hit 4th. The chill on the air was unbelievable. The thick scent in the air was of Fall, Autumn. The cold air sent shock waves up my nose. Instantly the heart in my chest melted to a thick syrup. Autumn was teasing, but well on its way.

That meant Halloween. It meant Pumpkin pie and unwanted turkey dinners. I always despised turkey but loved the fix in's. Mashed potatoes. Gravy. Stuffing(from the box of course), my mothers fruit salad(I made Dick learn how to make it, because I hated my parental units)that consisted of canned fruit cocktail and Cool Whip.

There was one Halloween night me and Dick were on a Trick 'or Treat mission. We were both 21 years old. It didn't matter though. My size was plenty scary, the folk's handing out candy have problems with teenagers. Once you have hit the legal drinking age, they comply in fear of confrontation, that was our leverage..

I only had to punch one guy, he was another costumed Trick 'or Treater, probably at least 18 years old. He tried to play a joke and come up from behind me and give me a scare. Even though I was dressed like Jason Voorhees. The kid had balls. But it got him a fractured jaw. No candy for him, for awhile anyway. That was the year I learned that no one should sneak up on me. I had violent defense reflexes.

Dick's theory was that the reflexes came from the years of violence from my mother. She would at times get coked out and smack me if I spoke to her. She meant well, but I think she scarred some part of my soul, unintentionally. My father just took off into the night chasing various pussy and ass. Who could blame him? His wife was coked out and violent. But he was no prized piece. My father valued money and random pussy. He didn't have a sympathetic or empathetic bone in his body.

I wanted them both dead for so long. The two were just toxic beings to the earth. When I was in freshmen year of high school, I fell for a girl, she was not much unlike Lorrie Lovitt. Her name was Cynthia Garcia, she dressed like Sandy from Grease. I wanted her more than the latest Nintendo game. But I would need help.

I knew my father was quite the ladies man. I considered calling him, he had tried to contact me few times during the beginning of freshmen year, he wanted to reconcile. When I returned home that night, my Aunt, sat at the kitchen table, her eyes in tears. Her face redder than the surface of Mars.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Your father was found dead in an alley this morning. His, his throat was cut and his wallet was taken. He was mugged, Tuck. You won't ever be seeing him again, not that you even wanted to, you should be happy. Now you don't ever have to worry about him trying to reach out to you again." My Aunt wept something fierce.

I hid in my room and cried for two hours. Then I called Dick. We went bowling. Then I told him the news. He was more broken up than me.

That seemed like another lifetime as I pulled into Uncle Tommy's driveway. His old Mustang was parked. I parked behind it. He was home and no doubt basking in the glow of his gigantic flat screen HD TV. One look and it's impossible to look away. Oprah could be on the tube and as horrible as that would be you wouldn't look away.

I didn't knock, just walked in. The odor was of skunked alcohol, chili fries, fried beef. It was cool and damp. The wallpaper was more faded than the last time I had been there. It was close to plain darkness. The light from the large TV shined upon the living room.

Zack Morris and Kelly Kapowski had a conversation about single life. They both seemed upset and wanted to work it out. They seemed stubborn in HD.

In the pleather wannabe La-Z-boy recliner sat Uncle Tommy. He was dressed in faded cargo shorts and a stained white v-neck shirt. Tommy sipped from a tall can of Miller Lite. His eyes were bloodshot and it was obvious he hadn't slept in days. He seemed very into the show on the screen.

It was even hard for me to turn away from the ginormous TV. The height and clarity of an HD Zack and Kelly was amazing. I felt like they were having their trivial high school conversation right there in the room.

"Hey, Tommy." I said to the figure lounged in the chair.

"Yeah?" He asked seriously.

"I came to ask for advice. I'm at an all time low. The woman I'm falling in love with is in love with my best friend."

"That's life. What the hell do you want from me?" Tommy said.

"I don't know how to feel. I guess. There's a part of me that wants the two to be happy. Then there's a part of me that wants me to prove to Lorrie Lovitt that she can love me." I paused, I was visibly shaking.

"I knew this was coming." He said.

"How so?" I moved to the edge of my seat.

"I spend my days and nights watching TV. Television is just a fabricated reflection of reality. At some point all of us come seeking truth and answers. At some point we all feel regret for our actions and the way we feel." He said. I was confused. Really confused. "So this girl is either not attracted to you or she is playing a mean game of hard to get. Or as Summer Roberts calls it 'The Hot and Cold Game.'"

"Huh?" I asked.

"In season two of The OC Seth Cohen is jealous of Summer and Zach's relationship. Summer tells Seth that he needs to go cold on Alex. She says, "Go Iceman on her ass." Seth thinks she's referencing Top Gun but she literally means go cold."

"Look, Tommy, I have had a rough almost twenty four hours. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"GO COLD ON HER ASS! Don't be sweet or nice or caring. Show her that you don't need her. See how fast she sings a different tune."

"How did you know I was being sweet and nice to her?"

"I spend my days watching TV. TV is what raises our youth. It teaches men to be subservient to women. Of course you are nice and sweet to her, it's been spoon fed to you since the day you could physically open your eyes." He paused, drained his beer. Looked at me for the first time. "Now go be an asshole to her, she'll respect you more for it in the end."

"I don't have it in me." I admitted for the first time out loud. I felt tears forming in the corner of my eyelids. "Her face is too precious, her eyes see through me-"

"OH, CUT THE SHIT." Tommy said, "Grow up, Tuck. Would ya? You need help. I'll help you." He picked up a cordless phone that sat to his right on a small table. He dialed a number, waited one beat, then the following conversation on his end took place.

Tommy: "Hello. Hey."

Pause.

Tommy: "I'm fine. You?"

Pause.

Tommy: "Good, good. I need your help with something."

Pause.

Tommy: "Great. Can you check my mailbox to see if the mailman picked up a package I left for him?"

Pause.

Tommy: "Yeah. Thanks a bunch."

Uncle Tommy hung up the phone. Looked at me seriously and said, "Remember that sometimes, no matter how hard you try or how much you care, you just might be Screech Powers to her Lisa Turtle, you're not always gonna be Ryan Atwood to her Marissa Cooper." He paused, then said these final words, "Now get the fuck outta here."

I didn't care to stay, though I was confused, so I left.

Outside at my car I saw a girl approaching Tommy's mailbox. From where I stood she looked familiar, my stomach tightened. Though she was a good distance away and had put on forty or so pounds, it was her.

Cynthia Garcia. The one that got away. The one I thought would be my wife.

She noticed me and looked dead in shock. She stood still like a wax figure. Finally, after we both snapped out of it, she approached with caution. My heart hammered.

"Tucker?" Cynthia said.

"Cynthia. Yeah, it's me."

"What are you-?" She said.

"What are you-?" I said.

Cynthia said, "My sister just got a place here. Well, over there. My sister sometimes helps your Uncle out with things and he remembered me from when we were..." Her sentence trailed off.

"Wow. OK." Was all I managed to say.

"Would you like to come over for a beer or lemonade? I mean, we have other things. My sister's out for the weekend, she comes back on Monday."

"OK." I said.

The living room was cozy for something so modern. A lot of metal and glass. The sofa was from Ikea. Cynthia bent over the table organizing coasters. She wore tight Capri jeans, black stilettos, red spaghetti strap top with a black cardigan pulled over, the top button was buttoned up.

My body filled with lust just being this close to her. After all this time, one would think at this point the sexual chemistry would have ceased, quite the opposite. Cynthia took a seat to the left of me. She sat rather close. I could feel the heat from her legs on mine. Though forty pounds heavier it all seemed to go to beneficial places.

Her chest more robust. Her thighs more supple. Her ass more shapely. I could smell the Paris Hilton perfume she was wearing. The scent intoxicated me.

"What happened to your head?" She asked.

"Car accident."

"Well, it certainly didn't effect your arms and chest." Cynthia giggled. "You have been hitting the gym pretty seriously."

"Yeah. It's one of my hobbies I guess." I said.

"You still play guitar?"

"Almost every night."

"How's Dick?"

"Good." I said.

"That's good."She said.

There was a tension in the air, the room felt like it would explode, I looked at Cynthia's face. Her soft features. The tension increased as she met my gaze. I felt a rush of nausea, from excitement, nervousness even.

"Do you wanna-"

"What?" I said, fast, my heart going into overdrive.

"You wanna see the bedroom?" Before she even finished the sentence I was on her.

Our lips mashed into each other. Our groins created severe friction. I licked her neck and sucked on her bottom lip. She bit my face and neck. I pulled her hair until she moaned.

Let's just say it got worse(better)as we undressed each other on the way to her bed.

An hour later we got dressed. I stole kisses here and there. There was apprehension on her part. Of course things could not just be like they used to. That's why she was being apprehensive. It made sense. For the first time in over an hour I remembered my mission.

"I really hate to fuck and run but I need to talk to Dick. He's about to make a big mistake and I can help him."

"That's OK Tuck, go to your friend."

"Is your number the same? I'll call you later."

"Don't worry about it. Yeah the number hasn't changed." Cynthia said.

I waved to her as I pulled away, back down toward the main street, there was something behind her eyes that wasn't right.

My BlackBerry vibrated in the pocket of my jeans. I had completely forgotten about it due to the fact that it hadn't peeped in hours. I retrieved it.

The screen said, Incoming Call From Auntie Fucker. It was Dick.

"Hey." I said.

"Hey, man. How are you feeling?" Dick asked.

"I feel great, man, seriously."

"I fucked up with Lorrie. I tried to fix it but I couldn't. I made that shit worse. I'm gonna come back and we can talk about it." Dick said. I realized he thought I was still in the hospital.

"I'm on way to you, man. You're at Lou's right?"

"Yeah, but you're in the hospital-"

"I escaped, it's a long story. Listen, Lorrie is at our place crashed out on the couch. I gave her some bourbon, she's fine. She wants to see you, she's sorry. I think at this point you both are."

"Tuck, man, how did you escape and get Lorrie to forgive me?"

"I didn't do it. She did it all, dude. Just meet me back at the apartment. We can talk there." I said.

Me and Dick hung up and I headed home feeling great. On top of the world even.

Twenty minutes later I sat at the kitchen table with Dick. We watched Lorrie Lovitt saw logs on the couch(that means sleep heavily for those of you that don't know).

"She looks like an angel." Dick said.

"She is an angel." I responded.

We had hashed out everything. I told Dick of my escape from the hospital. Lorrie's interrogations. My visit to Uncle Tommy and my encounter with Cynthia. He was happy at the notion that me and Cynthia might be getting back together. I was happy that he'd finally seen the light and decided to give it his all with Lorrie.

Some minutes later Lorrie awoke to find Dick staring at her. Of course I was there too, but you know how that goes. They were in each others arms kissing and squeezing each other something fierce. I fought the acid in my throat and tried to focus on Cynthia.

Dick and Lorrie went to his room and closed the door behind them. I stretched out on the couch. Happy to be home and in my bed. The couch now smelled like Lorrie, this made me smile, I put on headphones. Set the laptop on my stomach and looked through iTunes. I looked at some of the songs played earlier while me and Lorrie sat side by side.

It was time to try and put my focus on Cynthia. That was what Uncle Tommy had intended to do. Force a run in with Cynthia Garcia to force me to go cold on Lorrie Lovitt. It had half worked. Tommy had realized I didn't have the moxie to go it alone. In end he did help me.

BlackBerry vibrated in my pocket. It was Cynthia.

"Hey, you." I said.

"Tuck?"

"Yeah, it's me, what's up?"

"We can't see each other," She was crying. "Ever again."

"Why not?" My voice cracked.

"I'm engaged. I hid my ring when I saw you in your Uncle's driveway. This isn't my sisters place. I share this house with my fiancee. He's away on business." Cynthia could barely speak now. Saliva and congestion took over.

"OK." I hung up before she could continue.

I needed sleep but could not. The Lorrie Lovitt Mixtape Playlist was my next project. It took all of 12 minutes to complete. I was battling sleep at that point. There was also a half bottle of bourbon in my belly. The bourbon fixed the headache I had from crying.

I fell asleep well aware that tomorrow was a Saturday and the beginning of a weekend with Dick and Lorrie.

The Lorrie Lovitt Mixtape Playlist

#1) The Everly Brothers – Bye Bye Love

#2) Death Cab For Cutie – Lack Of Color

#3) The Cure – Friday I'm In Love

#4) Hawthorne Heights – Speeding Up The Octaves

#5) Insane Clown Posse – Another Love Song

#6) The Airborne Toxic Event – Innocence

#7) The All-American Rejects – My Paper Heart

#8) Fall Out Boy – 7 Minutes In Heaven(Atavan Halen)

#9) Say Anything – Every Man Has A Molly

#10) Dashboard Confessional – Screaming Infidelities

#11) Say Anything – Total Revenge
CHAPTER 4

Pumpkin Patch Epiphanies on a Saturday

(Brandy Hocks and a little Ducky that knows too much)

After the third time I heard Dick give Lorrie Lovitt an orgasm, the trip to the kitchen for more liquor, well that had me eyeballing our fine cutlery. It was then that 2 things became apparent. 1) I was drunk. 2) Cutting my own throat was just the kind of hair brained scheme that would kill me.

I was too young and pretty to die. Laughing maniacally, drunk, the shiny stainless steel kitchen knife was placed back into the drawer. I stumbled back to the couch laughing uncontrollably.

The door to Dick's room opened. Now Lorrie Lovitt's pornographic noises spilled into the living room(my bedroom). Dick stood over me, scratching his head.

"Man, are you OK?" He asked.

"YEAH!" I continued to laugh, wondered who was giving Lorrie orgasms while Dick checked up on me. "HEY."

"What?"

"Who's giving Lorrie those orgasms as you stand here staring down at me?"

"WHAT?"

"I hear Lorrie cumming, Dick, I'm no idiot, but I don't understand how that can be if you are standing here, Bro Hym."

"Bro Hym? Dude you are fucking wasted. I took Lorrie home three hours ago. She even said bye to you." He said. My body started to feel a little sober(only a little).

"Are you serious?"

"Dude, I was standing next to her. You looked right at her and waved. You had your headphones on, but you made eye contact."

"Shit." I said, my head spinning.

"I know, you must have-" Dick tried to say but I jumped up and shoved him aside. I rushed to the kitchen sink and puked up pure whiskey. Dick laughed until he couldn't breathe. My face was hot, throat burned, I hacked up bloody saliva. From Dick's room I could still hear Lorrie moaning.

"What the fuck is that noise?" I said through a congested throat.

"Fat Teens Love Threesomes #17." Dick said.

"I should be able to recognize porno sounds versus the real thing. I'm losing it. Need sleep."

"We both do, I just wanted to rub one out before bed, I couldn't sleep." He said.

"Yeh. I just needed a few hundred drinks."

"You alright?"

"Cynthia's 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 pulled a bottle of Jim Beam from the freezer, threw some ice cubes in a tumbler full of the amber liquid. I topped the drink off with a can of Mountain Dew Pitch Black. The first sip of the cold beverage sent chills down my spine and up my face.

Awesome.

Slender hands lightly took the glass from me. The hand I was about to chop off belonged to Lorrie Lovitt. She scowled at me like a concerned parent. I hated her in that moment.

"You should eat. No drinking or sulking today." She said. I laughed out loud, hard. The idea that this chick was going to control my booze intake was as hilarious as bringing a Swiss Army Knife to a machete fight.

"I don't think so." I said coldly, taking my drink back and downing it.

"Dick told me about your situation with that girl, Cynthia, and you need to get over that. You shouldn't have even slept with her, she sounds like a mess, and most women can't be trusted. They are just waiting to put a knife on your back." Lorrie said, her arms crossed.

I looked at Dick, he cringed.

"Sorry, dude. I just started talking and I couldn't stop. Well, that and Lorrie wanted all the facts. She's a hell of an interrogator."

"This shit ain't your guys' business. It's over anyway. So I'm going to drink this here bottle and try to find some Kardashian reruns in hopes that it's a bikini episode." I turned back toward my bed. "Don't stick a knife in me Miss Lovitt." I added, colder than a Popsicle in Antarctica.

Lorrie grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around, her finger in my face.

"Oh no you're not. It is a perfectly awesome Autumn day outside and you're going to the pumpkin patch with Dick and I." Lorrie said to me.

"No I'm not." I said to her.

"We're going to a pumpkin patch?" Dick asked.

"Yes you are coming with us. I would never stick a knife in your back, Tucker Sawyer, you are my best friend." Lorrie said to me, conviction in her eyes.

"Not a chance." I said and took a swig off the bottle of Jim.

"Are we really going to a pumpkin patch?" Dick said with through a mouth full of pancake.

"You are, but I am not." I said with finality. Lorrie Lovitt's chestnut eyes burned with anger.

"We'll see about that." Was all Lorrie said.

I never understood why they put pumpkin patches in places like, say, between the mall and a used car lot. It kills the vibe of hay and pumpkins. When you can smell motor oil and exhaust over moist hay and fresh pumpkin, it's no trip to the Midwest.

Somehow I had gotten into Lorrie Lovitt's Dodge Dart and ended up at the pumpkin patch. The girl worked in mysterious ways.

The chilly wind blew away car exhaust, the smell of hay and pumpkin hit me like a bucket of water. It was intoxicating. I smiled up at the dark clouds that fought the sun. The sun managing to peek his head out every now and again causing warmth on chilled skin.

It was then that I realized how Lorrie managed to get me out of the apartment. Everything became suddenly clear. I sat on a bale of hay. My ass was freezing but couldn't feel it. I had a jack 'o lantern painted on my face. For the first time I noticed the paper cylinder of cotton candy in my hand.

I was fucking drunk.

Lorrie Lovitt had let me drink myself to the point of face paint and cotton candy! What the fuck was cotton candy and face paint doing at a pumpkin patch?! I needed answers.

Lorrie and Dick stood on the opposite side of a chicken wire pen. Lorrie fed a goat pellets and caressed its smelly goat head. Dick watched, amused like child at a Pixar film. Now the question was: WHAT THE FUCK IS A PETTING ZOO DOING AT A PUMPKIN PATCH?!

I withheld the question due to the fact that there were uber amounts of children around me. The little ankle biters were enjoying the malnourished animals same as Lorrie. The anger in me ceased when I saw a little ducky walking around the petting zoo. He was clearly out of his element.

I smiled drunkenly thinking how awesome would it be to get that little guy drunk and party with him? He probably has all kinds of crazy stories. The drunkenness shielded the fact that ducks do not talk. In my mind I figured if he was drunk enough he would just start rambling.

I reached over into the pen to pick up the little guy. Dick was instantly at my side.

"Dude, I don't think you're allowed to pick up the petting animals. I think you can only pet them." He said.

"Well, DUDE, I just happen to know that with enough liquor that guy will sing like a canary. Then we will know where the treasure is buried. Duh!" I laughed to myself, Dick could be so naive sometimes.

"You ain't giving my duckling alcohol, so don't even think about it." Said a voice with an accent. I turned to see a fit and strong looking blonde girl, maybe 22 or 23, long thick curls, no make-up, but she didn't need it. Tight jeans and an even tighter button down plaid western shirt. She wore brown cowgirl boots.

"Ma'am, it's okay, I got this under control." Dick said with his charm.

"I ain't talking to you, bean pole." The blonde said. I nearly keeled over in laughter. "I'm talking to the big guy with the pumpkin face. Ain't you too old to be getting your face painted?"

"Ain't you too sexy to be owning a ducky that knows too much?" I said, trying to sound somewhat sober. The blonde laughed, she tried not to at first, her mouth was full of the whitest straightest teeth I had ever seen.

"I'm Tuck," I said. "Tucker Sawyer." I put out my hand.

"I'm Brandy," She said, "Brandy Hocks. My family and I own this patch."

"I'm Dick," Dick said, "Dick Pickett." He extended his hand, Brandy looked down at it and laughed.

"Then go pick your dick somewhere else, bean pole. Let me get acquainted with your pal."

"Good idea." Dick said to Brandy, then he looked at me. "Good luck, dude, she seems like a real peach." He went back to Lorrie Lovitt, who seemed suddenly obsolete in that moment, she fed more pellets to goats.

"Looks like you need to sober up, Mr. Sawyer."

"Maybe." I said.

"Can I buy you a Hotdog on a Stick?" Brandy asked.

"You wanna feel my hotdog on a stick?" I said, still drunk. Brandy smiled and shook her head in amusement.

"You are so lucky I find pervs charming. Come on." She took my hand and was leading me to the mall entrance. I waved bye to Dick and motioned that we were headed toward the mall. When Brandy wasn't looking he did the double thumbs up.

Lorrie looked confused and ready to approach and interrogate. Dick stopped her and from where I stood I couldn't hear them. But Dick was apparently filling her in. Lorrie shook her head and scowled at me.

I was satisfied knowing that Lorrie had no control over me. For some reason it really bothered her. And that was awesome. I did the sarcastic 'bye-bye' wave with only four fingers. If this wasn't going Iceman on her, I don't know what would be.

I bit into the second white cheese injected corn dog. Brandy continued talking about "Back home" and I partially listened. The mall was crowded with families and church groups. If you have never had a corn dog that does not contain a dog but hot melted cheese, then, you have not lived.

I had developed the skills to portray that I was listening when a girl went on about things that were considered trivial to myself. As Brandy went on the following conversation took place.

Brandy: "That's when daddy had to stop working out in the fields..."

Me: "Terrible."

Brandy: "Cousin Jerry just up and died...blah..blah...buried under the lake.

Me: "Horrible."

Brandy: "Aunt Judith had lent us a couple of bucks...

Me: "Good times."

Brandy: "...It didn't cover all the hospital bills."

Me: "That's tough."

When I felt Brandy had hashed out her reasons for moving to California and depressing story, I finished my lemonade, looked her in the eyes. They were crystal blue. The tale had seemed to sadden her.

"You come to this mall a lot?" I asked.

"No. Few times a year maybe." Brandy said, unsure of where my question was headed.

"There is a uni-sex bathroom in the northeast corner." I said, leaning in like it was a secret.

"So?" She said, slightly confused.

"Join me?"

"Oh. You mean that. That line ever work on anybody?" She asked with a strange look on her face.

"It's my first time using it. I just made it up on the spot."

"God Damn," Brandy rolled her eyes, then, blushed, "It must be your lucky day, Tucker. Lead the way."

"Huh? You're serious?"

"You better be, cause now I'm ready." Brandy said, she was flushed.

(Not Too Graphic Sex Scene)

(DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list does not condone unsafe sex, nor do we condone listening to Jimmy Buffet or the Power Rangers.)

In the small bathroom stall I stripped Brandy down and we caressed each others muscles. Brandy was fit but not bony or skinny. She filled out damn good. We couldn't keep our lips off of each other and had excellent kissing chemistry. I took out my repressed passions on her and she reciprocated. It appeared that Brandy had also been holding back certain emotions.

Because we were in a bathroom stall there was no condom present(any teens reading this should know that unsafe sex is the same as having sex with everyone Jimmy Buffet ever had sex with, wait, do kids still listen to him or know who he is? Anyway, teenagers, even though I did something semi-irresponsible here, you never should. Listen to the Power Rangers when they preach about safe sex:) Condoms, now that's a beat we can all dance to) so I had to pull out(not a recommended method, condoms are less messier).

(End of the not too graphic sex scene)

Me and Brandy walked toward the mall exit. Back toward the parking lot that hosted her families pumpkin patch. She was whistling a tune I wasn't familiar with. But she seemed happy and truth be told so was I.

In the parking lot halfway to the patch. Brandy slowed her stroll. She looked at me.

"Hope you don't take offense, but, I gotta know. Why were you all drunk and crazy out in public this afternoon when I found you?"

"It's complicated." I said.

"Try me."

"I was falling in love with a girl and there was problems that kept coming up. That's the short of it." I said.

"What do you mean, you were?" Brandy asked.

"I mean I don't know now. We have had such an amazing time-"

"Don't go getting love confused with sexual chemistry. Not the same thing, honey."

"You're right." I said, now I felt back to square one. "The girl I'm in love with can't love me. It's too hard."

"Does that got something to do with your sister? Cause she can't stop burning a hole in the back of your head." Brandy said. I turned to see what she referred to.

Lorrie Lovitt stared at me. Her face serious and pissed.

"That's not my sister. That's my best friends girlfriend." I said.

"Oh, sorry. She seems taken with your private business.

"She's just protective." I said.

"Anyway, I got your number and I'll give you a call tomorrow." Brandy hugged me, smiled, and kissed me.

"Alright. Hey, you ever been to the indoor Swap Meet on a Sunday?" I asked.

"No, not ever."

"Then tomorrow is your lucky day." I said.

I approached Lorrie and Dick. Dick was smiling loud. Lorrie seemed confused. I told Dick about everything. Lorrie stood and listened. She said nothing. When I told Dick about the Swap Meet, he smiled, thinking it was perfect. Lorrie piped up.

"You just had sex with that girl in the bathroom?" She said. I didn't like her tone, it was snobbish.

"Yeah I did." I said and high fived Dick.

"Now, you say you want to meet her at the indoor Swap Meet tomorrow?" Lorrie said.

"That is correct."

"Then we're coming too." Lorrie said.

"What-" I said.

"What-" Dick said.

"We will go along to make sure you're not making a mistake." Lorrie said a matter-a-factly.

We all walked back to Lorrie's Dodge Dart, got in, and she floored it home.

None of us spoke.

We got home. Ordered pizza and watched Transformers 3 on demand. Lorrie seemed not so focused, stealing glances at me when she could, it was nice for a change. I hoped that Brandy would follow through on her plans.

Lorrie Lovitt was jealous. Brandy was awesome. I was in heaven. Dick was along for the ride.

Tomorrow was a Sunday with Lorrie and Brandy. Nice.
CHAPTER 5

Epic Fist Fight At The Indoor Swap Meet On A Sunday

(Even More Epic Time Cut)

Do you remember the first fight you ever saw? If you're lucky it probably was a licensed boxing match. If you're not so lucky it was your parents. These things happen. It's a big fat slice of Americana.

The first fight I had ever seen was between my mom and dad, ironically mom started the fight, dad held no restraints. Soon they were in full fisticuffs, like Edward Norton and Brad Pitt, bare knuckle fist fighting. People often gasp or flinch when I tell them that nowadays. They can't believe I can be so casual and up front about it.

Eh, it's in the past. And now, as an adult, I can appreciate a real good fist fight.

That day was really cold. The dark gray clouds were in full bloom, bloated with the possibility of rain. It was Sunday and the indoor swap meet was doing magnificent business. The thick stench of churros and popcorn oil infiltrated the filtered air. As always there was a stale beer smell in the air(California here we are). The building was literally a ginormous cinder block, hollowed out, filled with vendors selling anything and everything.

The cinder block had doors and exits. The main entrance was guarded by two large security guards. Other guards walked around checking out the Latina women in tight short skirts and tops that revealed aureola style cleavage.

The floor was concrete, the walls concrete, the ceiling high rise. Minus guard towers the place was a fucking prison. But there was no other place that Dick and myself chose to spend our Sunday's.

To my right was Dick Pickett, my best friend/brother from another mother. To Dick's right was Lorrie Lovitt, chestnut eyed angel, also Dick's girlfriend. To my left was Brandy Hocks, a blue eyed, tight bodied blonde Midwestern bombshell, she'd given up the farms for sunny California. And her family ran a pumpkin patch.

This was technically me and Brandy's first date, if you don't count porno style sex in the mall bathroom, I was happy to be hand in hand with her.

DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list does not condone nor do we consider sex in a mall bathroom a first date. IF YOU HAVE EVER CONSIDERED THIS ACT A FIRST DATE, PLEASE SEEK OUT YOUR NEAREST SEX ADDICTS ANONYMOUS MEETING. ALL MEETINGS ARE ANONYMOUS, UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED IN THE MEETINGS CREED(not the rock band).

Brandy Hocks was a perfect distraction from the great Lorrie Lovitt, whom I was falling in love with faster everyday, but she loved Dick. She also seemed to fancy me in her own way. Just two days ago she had called me 'her best friend'.

Yeah, Lorrie liked me like an old sweater you don't want anymore, like maybe your now deceased Grandmother had given it to you on her last Christmas. Then, one day, when you're finally about to throw it away, someone says they want it. And even though you were about to throw it away, now it's your favorite.

I strolled along, sipping a Miller Lite. Brandy also enjoyed a Miller. Dick had a Bud Light, a taste I could never break him of, and Lorrie drank from a Styrofoam cup filled with Seven-up and Canadian whiskey. She chose to drink hard that day and Dick had expressed his concern to me earlier in the day. It went like this:

Dick: "Dude, Lorrie seems really up in her head today. Ya know? Like she's pissed or I did something."

Me: "How do you figure?"

Dick: "Well, for one, she insisted we basically chaperone you and Brandy on this dreaded Day Date."

Me: "Day Date?"

Dick: "You never saw The Hammer?"

Me: "Is that a porno?"

Dick: "No, dude, it's Adam Carolla's boxing movie. He refers to Day Date's as bad news."

Me: "OK. Maybe she doesn't trust the random chick I just banged yesterday in the mall bathroom?"

Dick: "True. But how is that her business?"

Me: "I guess it's not. Wait, how is she acting pissed?"

Dick: "Do you think our knives need sharpening?"

Me: "No." Dick pointed to the kitchen. Lorrie Lovitt was sharpening our largest butcher knife. She was gritting her teeth and mumbling incoherently. I looked back at Dick.

Me: "From now on she's not allowed in the kitchen alone."

Dick: "Agreed."

Now that image of Lorrie sharpening the knife lingered in my head. I was buzzed from the beer, but pretty sure that Lorrie was scowling at me and Brandy any chance she got.

"I can't believe we can just walk around the market on a Sunday drinking beer. They would have you arrested for that back home." Brandy said, a slight slur in her speech. I wondered how many trips we made to Dick's trunk.

"Maybe you should go back home." Lorrie muttered under her breathe. Everyone ignored her.

"Oh, well, you can't normally do this you gotta know the right people." I said and winked.

"Yeah." Brandy smiled, "But no one is even saying anything."

"Why would they?" Dick asked. Then we took long sips off our beers.

"It helps to be tight with the security." I said.

The two beefed up security guards that watched the door on Sunday's were in a Thrash Metal band. They were called Eagle-something-a-rather. I had got them discounts on their instruments(I used to work in the guitar department of a well known music store). Therefore, they turned a blind eye to the beer and booze. In short, me and Dick got trashed at the indoor swap meet on Sundays.

I had made several connections at the indoor swap meet on our Sunday adventures.

"Let's stop here for a sec." I said to Brandy.

"Let's get a corn dog while they handle their business." Dick said to Lorrie.

"What are we doing here?" Brandy asked.

"Yeah, Tuck, what are we doing here?" Lorrie chimed in.

We were in front of a busy and crowded video game tent. There were several flat screen TV's in the front connected to systems like: The Nintendo Wii. Xbox 360. PlayStation 3. Further in the back, beyond all the teens and flat screens, were older TV's.

"I'm going in the back for a pick-up." I said.

"This is one of his few stops." Dick said to the ladies.

"WELL I WANNA GO." Brandy and Lorrie shouted at the same time. I looked at Dick, wide eyed, he shrugged.

"I can get a corn dog by myself." Dick said.

"NO. No you can't. You should take Lorrie with you." I said.

"But I don't want a corn dog, Tuck, I want to look at the video games." Lorrie said, her chestnut eyes begging.

Dick shrugged, indifferent.

Brandy rolled her eyes.

"Please." Lorrie said to me.

"You could use a corn dog." Brandy muttered. I heard her but ignored it.

"Excuse me?" Lorrie said, not ignoring it.

"I'm just sayin', I mean, you are under weight, right?" Brandy continued.

"OK, OK, OK!" I shouted. "You both can go with me, if you be nice to each other, for cripes sake." I looked at Dick, irritation in my eyes.

"What dude? They made their choice. Not everyone likes corn dogs. Chicks usually like ice cream." Dick said, then wandered off, clueless. I wondered if he was drunk or just didn't care.

Inside, the tent reeked of Axe Body Spray, sour gummi candy, Mountain Dew Original, skunked weed, adolescent sweat. Behind the flat screens was a glass display case. Various used video game titles and console controllers were for sale. One lonely glass display case featured bongs and pipes(not used for marijuana), yeah right.

I cruised to the back of the tent with Brandy and Lorrie in tow. Both girls were getting horny looks from teen males going through puberty. Bad day to wear tight black pants for Lorrie. Even worse day to wear skin tight blue jeans for Brandy. Neither seemed to notice.

The back of the tent had a vertical slit in it to make a door. The slit lead to another slit into yet another tent. In the second tent was largest flat screen TV I have seen in my life. On the screen, Marvel Vs Capcom 2 was in full play. Wolverine took on Cyclops in high speed battle.

"The graphics aren't as good as the games in the other tent." Brandy commented. I was about to explain...

"That's because this is the original Xbox, the first released by Microsoft. This game is over 5 years old and it's 2D, even though the background is 3D." Lorrie said.

"Is this the X-Men game, Tuck?" Brandy asked.

"No. It's a game that crossed over the Marvel and Capcom universe." I couldn't turn away from that TV. Two men sat in leather chairs controlling the characters on screen. They were Jack and Jeff Davis.

"Is Capcom a comic book?" Brandy asked.

"Dumb ass." Lorrie muttered. I heard her but ignored it.

"What's that?" Brandy asked, not ignoring it. What was wrong with women? I thought.

"You don't seem to know much about video games for someone who wanted to come with us." Lorrie piped up.

"Hold up, girlie. You came with us. In case you don't know, you have a boyfriend, so maybe you can get off of Tuck's ass from time to time." Brandy said.

"OK, OK, OK!" I shouted, causing Jack and Jeff to pause their game and look at us, "You two agreed to be nice. So I expect nothing but. Drink your drinks and chill."

"Tucker Sawyer! The indoor swap meet rat!" Jack said.

"Tucker Sawyer! You rat!" Jeff said.

Jack and Jeff stood, their long black straight hair in ponytails.

I forgot to mention, they were identical twins, they both wore Mountain Dew t-shirts, holey jeans, black Chuck Taylor's(just like me, the shoes, not shirt). I was wearing my faded Ramones t-shirt, holey jeans, black suit jacket.

"Hey, guys." I said.

"Are you going to introduce your lady friends?" Jack said.

"Aren't you going to introduce the ladies?" Jeff said.

Lorrie and Brandy looked at me, concern on their face. I assured them with a smile.

"This is Brandy and Lorrie. Lorrie is Dick's new girlfriend. Brandy is my date today." I said.

"Dick had a new squeeze?" Jack said.

"Where is Richard Pickett?" Jeff said.

"He's getting a corn dog." I said, "I'm here for my usual pick-up."

"Oh, yes, of course." Jack said.

"Of course, yes." Jeff said.

Lorrie and Brandy had moved closer to me. Jack and Jeff eyeballed them hard. The twins were almost salivating. It was then I remembered why I never brought girls back there. One time I had brought some chick I was dating at the time. It took me thirty more minutes for my pick-up. With no girls, it took five minutes tops.

"GUYS! My pick-up?" I said. That seemed to snap the twins out of their trance.

"Of course, yes." Jack said.

"Yes, of course." Jeff said.

Jack looked at Jeff. Jeff didn't notice, he drooled over Brandy.

"Brother, will you?" Jack asked.

"Will you, Brother?" Jeff asked.

"Brandy, Lorrie. Will you step out to the other tent." I said. They looked at me, we were shoulder to shoulder.

"Will you be quick?" Lorrie asked.

"Please." Brandy asked.

"Yeah. Dick should be back anyway." I said. Brandy and Lorrie left. The twins' eyes blinked as if some spell had been broken.

"Mr. Sawyer." Jack said.

"Mr. Tucker." Jeff said. "Allow me to retrieve your pick-up." He walked behind the large TV.

"Thank you, Jeff." I said. "How goes it, Jack?"

"Great, Mr. Sawyer. We just had a fresh shipment in last night, so your pack should be particularly fresh."

"That sounds awesome to me."

"Indeed." Jack said.

"Indeed, indeed" Jeff said, approaching, handing me a 12 pack of Mountain Dew Pitch Black. I handed him the 6 bucks.

"I'll see you two next week. Try to beat your meat more. You two could use it." I said.

"Indeed." Jack said, smiling devilish.

"Indeed, indeed." Jeff agreed.

There was a loud crash behind me. I rushed through the slit doors into the first tent the Pitch Black 12 pack under my arm like a football. In the first tent, among all the teens and video games, I dropped the 12 pack as Lorrie landed a right hook square on Brandy's jaw.

Brandy stumbled back but didn't drop, both women took a fighting stance, the teens created a circle as Brandy landed a gut shot to Lorrie's stomach. Lorrie slumped over, holding her flat stomach.

"Come on, bitch. Take a swing." Brandy grunted. Lorrie stumbled forward, she looked hurt, then threw a fast left at Brandy's chin, landed it!

With Brandy stunned Lorrie slammed a right hand fist into her stomach. Now, Brandy slumped over, head down.

The teens started yelling: "FINISH HER!"

Lorrie was about to execute an uppercut with her right fist. I tried to run and stop her, when one of the teens tripped me, I fell flat on my face. I heard my nose crack. Blood soaked the concrete floor. I forced myself to look up from the floor, through watery eyes. I watched Brandy block Lorrie's uppercut with her forehead.

There was a loud crack, Lorrie's hand broke on Brandy's forehead, the two flew backward. They looked as if they would collapse but they didn't. They manged to stay on their feet. I noticed Dick on the other side of the circle. He looked confused and shocked, a corn dog half in his mouth, mid bite.

"DICK, STOP THEM!" I yelled from the floor, my broken nose painted the concrete, but he couldn't hear me over the horny teens sadistic chants.

Horny teens: KILL HER! FINISH THAT BITCH! HAH-DOO-KAHN!

Brandy and Lorrie ran at each other. Brandy had her right had balled into a fist, blood poured from her forehead. Lorrie held her broken right hand into a fist, she couldn't feel the break just yet, too much adrenaline.

Right out of a movie, the two both landed solid fists to each others face, at the same time. Lorrie caught it above the eyebrow. Brandy caught it on the bridge of her nose. We were twins with matching broken noses.

Brandy and Lorrie both fell back on their asses.

I stood up. Blood staining my jeans. I looked in the group of now scared looking teens.

"Which one of you fuck heads tripped me?" I asked through gritted teeth. The teens all looked different ways. Acting like nothing happened at all. "Should I beat the shit out of all of you then?"

The group squirmed and singled out two guys. They were probably 250 pounds between the two of them.

"Hello. I'm Tucker Sawyer and my nose is broken. What are your names?"

"I'm Eric." Said the older one.

"Jared." Said the younger one.

"OK. Here's how this is gonna go, Jared. I am going to beat the shit out of one of you. Eric, you are older, so you make the call. I don't care that Jared is clearly younger." I said. There was a tug on my coat. It was Brandy.

"Tuck, leave those boys alone." She had a rag on her head. The tent had cleared out, minus Lorrie and Dick in the corner. Dick had gotten her ice for her wounds. Good boy, I thought.

"I'll be with you in a minute." I told Brandy. Then looked back to the teens. "So, what will it be?"

"I was just kidding." Said Jared, the younger one. I laughed and messed up his hair.

"Run along, Jared. Just don't fuck around like that again, next time you might get your ass kicked." I said, still livid. "So, Eric, it looks like it's you and me. You know why this is happening to you, right?"

"No. My little brother did it, man. I never fucked with you." Eric said. He was sweating bullets. A pull on my jacket distracted me. It was Brandy again.

"Tucker, leave that boy alone and let's go. My head is killing me and you ain't about to hurt no little boy." She said.

"One second, Eric." I told him, then looked at Brandy, "Wait in the parking lot, I'll be out soon. The little fucker needs his chain yanked. He needs to learn to teach."

Brandy stared at me like I was insane. But she left.

I turned back to Eric. "So, you get one punch to the face. Put your hands behind your back and close your eyes." I said. He complied and I decided to land the full force punch on his mouth. The most damage I did was to my knuckles and his lips and front teeth. He spit blood but it was just drama. He was gonna be fine.

EPIC TIME CUT: Six Months Later

It was weird between me and Lorrie after the fist fight at the swap meet. Me and Dick had several beers together over those months and we agreed the fight was kind of hot and sexy.

Those conversations went this way:

Dick: "Dude, it was Vivica A. Fox and Uma Thurman in Kill Bill Vol. 1."

Me: "Maybe a little. It was hotter than that."

Dick: "True. Brandy never called you?"

Me: "Nah. She moved back to Iowa. I miss her sometimes, but, it's good to be alone."

Dick: "I don't know. I'm happy and I can't imagine being alone, without Lorrie."

Me: "That makes sense. Lorrie is amazing. You're lucky, dude."

Dick: "Do you know what started that fight anyway?"

Me: "Not really. No." I lied. Brandy accused Lorrie of being in love with me. That's what started it. Lorrie threw the first blow.

I had a lot of money saved up. Since that day Lorrie was injured by the girl I brought with me, I felt responsible, things were never the same. I buried myself in my work. Mountain Dew Pitch Black. I hit the gym four times a week. Life wasn't that great but I was doing it.

I awoke on a Saturday and knew it was the day. I packed up a bag of things I needed to survive. Dick woke up and started making coffee. Lorrie was asleep in his bed.

"What's up, man?" He asked.

"I'm outta here, man. I'll be back some day. But I can't do it anymore now." I said. Dick's face showed he was upset. I thought he might cry.

"What did we do?" Dick asked.

"We?"

"Lorrie and me?"

"Nothing. I just need the space. I need the quiet." I lied. The truth was I couldn't be around Lorrie any longer. I was deeply in love with her.

"You'll be back, right?"

"Of course, man, you're my brother." We hugged. I grabbed everything and left. Lorrie slept, never the wiser.

I hit the freeway going West, toward Los Angeles. It was early in the morning. Not much traffic. I drove, my eyes hurt when I thought about Lorrie. She could never be mine. She belonged to Dick. It was now time to find a life of my own.

I was in Hollywood seeing a movie, when the movie finished, it was almost 10pm. I headed to my motel room. The Jack Daniel's had hit me just right. The idea of being alone and free was making me so excited. For the first time in my life I was going to be self sufficient. It was simply refreshing.

The brand new bottle of Jack Daniel's was now half empty. I smiled at the stucco ceiling of the vintage motel room. The next stop was to keep going. I didn't care. Motels would be there for me. Fast food. Booze. Porno on demand.

Sleep came fast.

My BlackBerry vibrated. I ignored it. Fell back asleep. BlackBerry vibrated again, woke me up. The phone never rang that much. I forced myself to look at it. The screen said Incoming Call From Auntie Fucker.

"Yeah, Dick, what's up?" I said.

"TUCK? OH-I'M SORRY-TUCK?" Said Lorrie.

"Lorrie, it's me."

"TUCK...PLEASE..."

"Deep breathes, what's up?" I asked

"TUCK...I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO..."

"Lorrie, talk to me." I was drunk and trying to be sober.

"Tuck...DICK IS DEAD..." She said.

"WHAT?!" I said.

"HE...he...GOT...STABBED...HE'S DEAD TUCK...I'M SORRY, PLEASE COME HOME, I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU..." Lorrie said, hung up.

I puked all over my clothing. Stars in my eyes, I would wake from this dream, I thought. I had to awake from this dream. I just drank too much, that's all, Dick's still alive. I was so drunk I must have been imagining things...Right?
CHAPTER 6

Funereal For A Friend

(Lorrie's Breakdown)

I chalked everything up to the way it felt the first time I ever masturbated. That was life in a nut shell(no pun intended). Everything you felt in life could be compared to the first time you ever came(orgasm, not arrived some where). For some people the experience was awkward. For some it was scary. For most I'm sure it was scary, awkward, and erotic.

With any luck many of us enjoyed that first fresh squeeze of our groins and enjoyed every fluid that seeped due to orgasm.

If at this point you wonder where I am going with this, I am sorry to report that after all these years it is still hard for me to actually acknowledge Dick's untimely death. He makes it the hardest to forget. That may be confusing now, but by the end of this chapter it will make complete sense.

I stood over Dick's body. He laid in a black casket with red crushed velvet interior. He wore a pale black suit(if black could be pale), maybe it was just his skin. Dick looked to be literally drained of life, which he was, I felt insane looking down at him.

The whole thing seemed staged.

In the past days my anxiety attacks were back and in full motion. I hadn't had a real anxiety attack in years. But they just popped up again. The tightness in the chest, vomiting, cold sweats no matter the weather. The lack of sleep didn't help.

I hadn't slept since Dick's death. It was more of a killing. The booze helped sometimes. Lorrie did not help. All she did was cry until she either puked or dry heaved. Then she would go all catatonic on me, just stare blankly at the wall, it was as if she could see beyond the wall.

On the night before the funereal I had convinced her to have a few drinks with me. We ended up drunk on the floor, we held each other and wept in each others arms. Then she tried to kiss me.

I wasn't ready for that. And my rejection got me three days of silent treatment. That's right, she even stopped crying. But I was not about to live some Ben Affleck-Josh Hartnett film where my dead best friend's girl falls for me.

I told myself she was just grieving.

The story goes like this. Dick was delivering pizza's for Johnny Basil. It was his last delivery of the night and his life. 3 teenagers were smoking weed laced with angel dust. They didn't know it at the time. One of the boys was a paranoid schizophrenic off his medication. The angel dust did not help this.

The boy went into a full blown psychosis.

Dick rang the door bell, the 3 boys panicked, the two were hallucinating and hid in the closet. The one experiencing psychosis grabbed a butcher knife. He answered the door and proceeded to stab Dick multiple times in the stomach and throat. He left my best friend bleeding to death on the porch.

Dick died from his wounds on the way to the hospital.

At the funereal the day was so still. I remember it being the quietest day I ever have from memory. No breeze. No wind. Just plain stillness. It was a cold Spring day. Clouds and all. Dick's funereal was 4 days prior to my 28th birthday.

Sloppy Deb, Lorrie's mom, handed out complimentary snacks once the casket was lowered. Besides me and Lorrie and Sloppy Deb, others in attendance included Nico and Lorenzo Saucony, Johnny Basil, the twins Jack and Jeff Davis. I half expected to see Cynthia Garcia, but was glad not to. She was never close with Dick anyway.

"Mr. Tucker." Jack approached and said.

"Mr. Sawyer." Jeff said, he stood next to his brother.

"Thank you for coming." I said.

"We're sorry for the loss of Mr. Pickett." Jack said.

"Sorry for Dick's demise." Jeff said.

The twins were dressed in black t-shirts, blazers, trousers, shoes shiny, all black. Their hair pulled into tight ponytails. Per usual they were pale as ghosts. They didn't see much natural light. For some reason that fact made their appearance that much more special to me.

"This week your Pitch Black beverage is on the house." Jack said.

"Free is your Mountain Dew this week, Mr. Sawyer." Jeff said.

"Thank you guys. Dick would be happy to know that you came." I said. They nodded and walked off.

The next person to approach was Nico Saucony. He stared at a broken Lorrie Lovitt for a beat before he spoke. Lorrie had clung to my arm through the whole thing. Now her face was mashed into the shoulder of my blazer. She held on tight.

"Heya, Tuck. I'm so damn sorry about this whole thing. I don't...I can't stress enough how bad I feel, how I'm gonna take this to my own grave." Nico was fighting tears.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Nico." I said. The night Dick was stabbed, he was covering Nico's shift, so that Nico wouldn't miss out on a date with a stripper.

"I'm still very sorry." Nico said. He walked away, tears running down his face. Next to pay his respects was Johnny Basil himself.

"I apologize on behalf of my business and pizza for any distress it may has caused you, Tuck." Johnny said, after he shook my hand.

Johnny Basil was over 6 foot 3, pushing 3 hundred pounds, a perfect combination of fat and muscle. He wore t-shirts that were too tight and black jeans. That day he'd thrown on a blazer.

"I appreciate it, Johnny. I know you're not to blame for this. No one in your family is. Dick thought highly of you and your family. He was proud to deliver for you." I said. I felt Lorrie start crying into my shoulder again.

"You're welcome to my place anytime. Pies on the house." Johnny said.

"Thank you, Johnny." I said. He left the grave site.

I wrapped my arms around Lorrie and held her tight. She her warmth made me feel better. But there was that empty place in my chest.

Dick was dead, everyone was sorry, I had places to get free things. Nothing would bring him back. It was something I was going to have to accept, like the billions of humans before me that had lost people they love. Sloppy Deb approached me and Lorrie.

"I should get her home." Deb said to me.

"Yeah." I looked down at Lorrie. "Hey, it's time to go." Lorrie looked up at me, then her mom.

"I'm gonna go home with Tuck." Lorrie said. Deb looked at me, concern for her daughter in her eyes.

"I'll take care of her. I promise." I said.

"Call if you two need anything. I'll be over immediately."

"Thanks, mom." Lorrie hugged her mother tight. It made me miss my mom. I wondered what she was up to in Orange County.

I put Lorrie to bed, in Dick's old bed, after a glass of Jack on the rocks. Before she fell asleep she looked me deep into my eyes. Her chest nut brown eyes pierced me. I looked away. She said, "Thank you, Tuck. I'm sorry I miss Dick so much. I hope it doesn't hurt you."

I replied with, "I don't know what you mean. I miss Dick too. Sleep now, angel."

That was the first time I ever called her 'angel' out loud. She actually smiled. The smile split my heart in two. Sitting by her side, the angel slept, I needed to finish off the Jack Daniels and do some work on the computer.

I had taken vacation days at work for my leaving town experiment. That meant time off to track down mom and tell her of Dick's death and maybe seek out some comfort. I hadn't seen my mother since age eleven. She was a bit of a train wreck, but still sweet, from what I remembered.

According to Google, Tabitha York-Sawyer(mom)lived in an apartment complex, near Balboa Island. I wondered how she could afford that kind of location. Then I remembered how much of a hustler mom could be.

The next day I checked on a sleeping Lorrie Lovitt. I had a breakfast of toast and Jack on the rocks. With directions to my mom's apartment written down on line paper, I considered the options. Lorrie needed looking after, she was in the middle of a breakdown, but who could I trust outside of Dick or myself?

"Sloppy Deb." Dick said.

"Oh, yeah. She said to call if we need anything." I said. Then my body went rigid. I was terrified to turn to my left, Dick had spoken from beyond the grave and he was sitting next to me, I thought. With all my might, I forced a look to the left.

Dick sat on the previously empty stool at our bar counter.

"Hey." I said.

"Hey, dude." He said. His throat had puncture wounds. The belly of his shirt was soaked in blood. He wore his pizza delivery outfit.

"I'm officially fuckin' nuts, right?" I asked him.

"Either that or you're imagining me to help you through some trauma. Maybe later, after you have fulfilled some purpose, maybe I'll disappear, dude." Dead Dick said.

"So you're not really here?"

"I guess not, man. Make me disappear." He said. I blinked hard, he disappeared. The stool now empty, drink in front of me still full, the kitchen empty.

I downed my drink and I figured to be on a one way track to the looney bin.

By the time Lorrie woke up my bags were packed and breakfast was close to being done. The toaster beeped and spit up two blueberry Pop-Tarts. I loved the sprinkles on the blueberry ones. It made breakfast so much happier. The bowl was full of Lucky Charms. Breakfast was ready for Lorrie.

Oh, yeah, I can't cook.

And I grocery shop like an 8 year old with a car and credit card.

DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list does not recommend refusing to learn how to cook based on the bias that whatever woman you marry will prepare and cook every meal ever for you. This is not the idea of every woman, despite the fact that modern women have a problem being subservient to men. Any complaints on these issues can be forwarded to Shane Grey.

I didn't have a plan as Lorrie sat down at the counter. She looked at me and smiled lazily, sleepily.

"Thanks." She said.

"No problem. How are you this morning?" I asked timidly.

"Okay. Where's the Jack Daniels? Why are you drinking coffee?" She asked.

"I made you some green tea. Maybe we cut back a little, just in the mornings, you know for health purposes." I said, weakly. I didn't believe it myself.

"FUCK THAT." Lorrie tore apart the cupboards behind me, then the innocent cabinets. "Where'd you put it, Tuck?"

"Yeah, Tuck, where is it? Mr. Hypocrite?" The voice belonged to Dick Pickett. He sat on Lorrie's stool. Still messy and bloody.

I looked at Lorrie, she was scowling, I pointed to her stool. She looked.

"What the FUCK are you pointing at?" Was her response. Dick laughed and blood spurted from his gut.

"Just eat your breakfast and don't cuss at me, it's not lady like." I said. Lorrie put her head down and began crying.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't take shit out on you. I mean, stuff. You've been a true best friend through all of this." Lorrie hugged me. Dick winked, put a thumbs up, then disappeared.

I did an epic eye roll. My life was falling to fucking pieces. I was seeing my dead best friend. Something had to give. No one could take this much tragedy and mental anguish. Did this scenario end with a sniper rifle and a deserted book depository?(that's right, I went there).

Lorrie went to sit back down to eat her breakfast, she almost tripped over my duffel bag, the look on her face I could not describe.

"YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME AGAIN!" She cried out.

"No, no, no. I'm just going to see my mom. It's nothing. I'll be back late tonight."

"Why ARE YOU TAKING A BAG THEN?"

"It's just in case I need to spend the night. Trust me, I know what I'm doing and it's vital to take an over night bag in case." I said. The door bell rang.

"Who is that?" She asked, livid.

"Sloppy Deb. She's gonna watch after you. I can't leave you alone. I would be too worried."

"Fuckin' great." Lorrie sat at the counter and picked at her Pop-Tart. She reminded me of a little girl, my heart fluttered, she was adorable. Spoiled, but adorable.

I opened the door. Sloppy Deb came in, looking rather spiffy and mother-like. She wasn't wearing her normal jeans, vest, construction boots. Instead of being mommy and daddy like usual, that day she was just mommy. She wore flats with a floral pattern dress, no trucker cap like usual, make-up and hair done up.

"Hello, Tuck, where's my little girl?" Deb said.

"She's having breakfast at the counter." I said. Deb took off toward Lorrie. I closed the front door, Dick was leaning on the wall behind it.

"So, you gonna seriously see your mom, dude? After all these years?"

"Yeah, so?"

"It's just that you're family is a train wreck, dude. How could your mother possibly help you get over my death?"

"I will never get over your death, man. You were my fucking brother. There will be no getting over anything. You will be remembered."

"Thanks, dude." He paused a beat. "Remember the time we met those twins at the bar? They both wanted to fuck me, but I convinced the hot one to convince the uglier one to fuck you, because you were all emo and shit?"

"I had always thought the uglier one just wanted to be with me."

"That could've been the case. Remember, dude, you are the one controlling me. I'm not really here, I'm fucking dead." Dick said.

"I know, man. But I still miss you more than you will ever know." I said.

Dick disappeared.

The Jack Daniels I had hidden from Lorrie, by drinking it, was wearing off. Sipping a real cup of coffee, Deb stroked Lorrie's hair as she ate her cereal, I watched the two in amazement.

Was it possible that some parents loved their children that much?

Lorrie Lovitt and Sloppy Deb Lovitt walked me to the door. We stood awkwardly for a minute. Then Deb gave me a kiss on the cheek. She wished me good luck, then left me and Lorrie alone.

"Please hurry back and be fuckin' careful, Tucker Sawyer. I can't lose you too." Her eyes teared up. I brought a single finger to her eye and stroked the tear away.

"Don't waste those on the idea that I may not come back. I'm just going to Orange County and because no one REALLY loves me, I'll be back in one piece." I said, smiled big.

"Sometimes you can be a real idiot." Lorrie said, then she hugged me, her mouth against my right ear. "I love you, you idiot." She whispered.

My body froze. I went into shock mode. Those words on those lips. She must've meant as friends. I felt a panic attack coming on.

I broke the hug. Opened the door.

"Hey, wait." Lorrie said. I paused with my back to her.

"Huh?"

"There was something I found, it's for you, I wanted to wait until you got back..." She trailed off.

"What are you talking about?"

"I found it at the bottom of Dick's sock drawer. It's a sealed manila envelope addressed to you."

"I don't know what it could be."

"Here." Lorrie produced the envelope from what seemed like out of nowhere. I took it.

"Thanks. I'll read it when I get time." I said.

Then I got in my car and headed toward Orange County.

At my moms apartment door, I knocked, the thrill of adrenaline pumped up, there was shuffling behind the closed door. A voice came through the door.

"What is it?" Said a haggard female.

"My name is Tucker, I'm looking for Tabitha Sawyer."

"Shit" Said the voice. The door opened and a very drunk and most likely high woman stood in the doorway. From my memories I knew it was her. "Who the fuck are you? And where's my pizza? I don't play around."

"You're my mom." I said.

"No pizza, go away." She said.

I retrieved to the Zephyr. I could wait out her highness or drunkenness. No problem. I sat in the my car sipping from a medium bottle of warm Jack Daniels. I looked at the passenger seat. The manila envelope stuck out of the duffel bag.

I tore the envelope open, it was a lot if thick papers. The first page caught my eye. I read on and realized it was Dick's Bucket List. And now, according to his Bucket List, he wanted me to fulfill it(see the PROLOGUE page to clear up any confusion).
CHAPTER 7

I Discovered My Best Friends Bucket List And All I Got Was This Stupid Responsibility

(And I chill with my mom)

I sat on my mom's torn and ripped couch, in her apartment, she was sober enough to remember me at this point. She downed straight warm cups of Old Crow. I knew the sober wouldn't last, so I did the only thing I knew how in these kinds of situations.

Drink.

The bottle of Jack Daniels was in my jean pocket. I slipped it out on took a long pull.

"Do you drink every day?" Mom asked.

"Do you?"

"Don't be a fucking smart aleck."

"Then don't ask stupid questions, I am your son." I said. "Therefore, I am a functioning alcoholic. Like you, the alcoholic part, obviously not the functioning part."

"Always such a smart mouth punk. You think you're superior and that you know better, because you just took off to that whores house to live."

"You talking about Aunt Becky? She's a fucking Bible thumper. Farthest from whore I have ever seen."

"You think someone can't be a whore for Jesus Christ?" Mom said, words slowly starting to slur.

"Fuckin' A. You're getting drunk again." I said. Right on time the door bell rang. "About fuckin' time."

"That pizza is hours late." Mom said.

"I'm convinced you didn't even order one to begin with. I actually called and ordered these ones." I opened the door. Paid the guy. Set the pizza's on mom's filthy table. I wasn't above these living standards I just chose to not live this way.

The carpeted floor was covered in cigarette ashes, cans, bottles, empty pizza and Chinese food cartons. Clearly she had let herself go. Now I was wondering if I should just have some pizza and go. I clearly wasn't going to find sympathy here. And the last thing that was good for me would be to get involved in this train wreck.

"Tough call, dude."

I turned to an empty chair. It was occupied by Dick. He smiled. Blood poured from his stomach and throat wounds. He took a bite of pizza. He was still in his delivery uniform. Of course mom couldn't see him, no one could but me, it was my curse and a blessing. Not many people got to interact with their best friends once they check off this mortal coil.

"How are you going to explain my bucket list to Lorrie? Have you even decided if you're gonna do it?" Dick said. I shook my head. I couldn't answer out loud. My mom would hear me. Though she was digging into pizza and washing it down with room temperature whiskey.

"I don't know what to do." I said and bit into a piece of pizza.

"About what?" Mom asked.

"Dick was just murdered. He left behind his girlfriend and an extremely long bucket list he wants me to fulfill."

"Sounds like a lot of horse shit. The best part about losing somebody is that you don't gotta do shit for them ever again. You should throw away his grocery list and tell his chick to hit the bricks." Mom said. I felt anger toward this woman that gave birth to me. She didn't know shit.

"It's a bucket list. Things that he never got to do before he died."

"Dude I was only twenty-six when I was killed." Dick pointed out.

"Fuck it. Take care of yourself." Mom said. It was nearing time for me to leave.

"He was only twenty-six when he was killed, mom." I said. "I loved him, he was a brother to me. You need to watch your tone when you speak of my friends." She seemed to shut up after that.

We ate in silence. My Jack Daniels was gone. She cracked a fresh bottle of old crow. I got up, it was late, even Dick had fallen asleep. I didn't know if I was supposed to shake a ghost awake.

"I need to get going," I said. "Just so you know I probably won't be back."

"I figured as much. You're probably used to being around idiots that kiss your ass." She was fully liquored up. That comment of hers woke Dick up.

"Is it time to go, dude?" He asked.

"Yeah." I said. I took a last look at my mother. I figured she might last another two years, tops. "Good-bye." I walked over and opened the door.

"Don't screw it up with that girl." Mom said. I froze in my tracks.

"What girl are you talking about?"

"You know what girl I mean. That's why you came here. Advice. If you love the girl don't screw it up. And don't come back here. It's too late Tom."

"It's Tucker." I said defensive.

"I always wanted it to be Tom, like Tom Sawyer. Your horrible father wouldn't allow it." She lied on the couch and turned her back to me. I was angry at the tears in my eyes. At that point I wanted to rip both of my eyeballs out and smash them.

Wasted tears on a wasted woman. Mom. A fucking joke.

"Let's go home, dude." Dick said. I looked at him and the wound in his throat bled slower. He smiled crookedly at me. "You don't need her, dude. You're better off with me and Lorrie."

"But you're not really here."

"What difference does it make? You can still see me and hear me." He said. We walked to my car in silence. I couldn't say anything, he had a point.

On the way home I stopped at a bar. The place faced the beach. It was full of college kids. They drank like it was going out of style, I ordered a 15 buck Jack and Coke Zero. Some Nirvana song screamed from the jukebox and I wondered what the fuck kids their age were doing listening to that band. They sucked when I was a teenager, the songs got harder to tolerate each time you heard them. Maybe they were older college attendees.

One of the girls looked to be a few years younger than myself. She had long jet black hair and 50's style bangs. She wore tight black Capri pants. Tall stiletto heels. Polka dots?! Yeah, she wore polka dots. White on black. My mouth was watering.

I should just finish my drink and leave. Lorrie was at home and I had to get home, despite the fact that there was enough alcohol in my system to make me slightly hazy. I took hard sips off my drink.

"Hey." I heard a voice say from my left. I looked. It was polka dot girl.

"Hello." I said.

"I've never seen you here before." She said.

"I'm just passing through."

"That's awesome. I wish I could just pass through. I have so many classes and homework..." She said, then started humming along to the atrocious 90's grunge rock.

"You put this on?" I asked.

"Yeah! You like Nirvana?" She smiled, excited.

"No, hell no. Not my thing."

"What do you mean, hell no?" She asked defensively.

"Kurt Cobain had soul but no heart. He could whine and whine and groan but there was no heart in his music. He was as bad as a blues singer." I said, irritation boiling inside me.

"Wow." She said. I noticed her large tits and mad cleavage. "You here this guy, Rick? Called Kurt Cobain a loser." Some idiot wearing a Sublime t-shirt looked over at us. He was big and corn fed. It looked like he hadn't showered in days.

Rick strolled over to say hi.

"What's up, Patty? This faggot talking shit?" Rick said. Patty? Was he fucking serious? The name totally didn't fit.

"I just called Kurt Cobain heartless. Metaphorically of course." I smiled at Rick and Patty. I was in no mood to be fucked with and the idea that Rick may try amused me.

"You don't know shit, fucker." Rick said. I could tell he was drunk and he was the kind that got angry and stupider.

"You are a fucker." Patty said. I grinned like a wolf.

"I think you two should walk away now." I said. But, Rick moved closer, I was sitting down and he stood. Patty to my left and the joker Rick to my right.

"Take it back." Rick said, in what I assumed was his tough guy tone, but it sounded like a wet whisper.

"OK. Take it easy," I put down my drink and raised both hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Rick, Patty, I'm sorry Kurt Cobain couldn't write from the heart or that he didn't have a good or even mediocre singing voice."

In my peripherals I saw Rick start to move, I smashed the glass of Jack and Coke Zero in his face. He screamed out. Blood poured from his nose. Patty took a swing, I saw it coming, seized her by the wrists and kneed her deep in the groin. She fell to her knees. I dropped a tip on the table and remembered why I don't like drinking in public.

I didn't notice my hand bleeding or the small shards of glass imbedded into the skin, until I actually started the Zephyr. The glass pressed into my skin as I gripped the wheel. But the determination to not treat it until I got home was strong. Blood seeped into my rugs and stained the upholstery.

Dick sat to my right in the passenger seat at a certain point. He stared straight ahead and didn't say anything but I knew what he was thinking. The silence was deafening.

"You shouldn't be driving drunk, dude."

"It's what I do." I said. "I thought you were going to tell me I shouldn't hit chicks. And I was gonna point out that I didn't hit her, but kneed her in the groin."

"I wasn't gonna say that. I saw you knee her. And she had it coming." Dick said. "So, what are you going to do about number one on my bucket list?"

"Start from the bottom." I said, coolly.

"You're gonna start from the bottom, at the last thing I wanted to do before I died?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's easier and probably the thing at the bottom isn't as glamorous." I said, hands burning like hot sauce in my wounds. Dick laughed and smiled at the same time. He used to do that when he was alive and it cracked me up. Dead, though, not so funny.

"What's funny?"

"You haven't read the list have you?" Dick asked.

"I read item zero. Where you request that I fulfill your bucket list if you fucking die before hand." I said. Acid in my tone.

"Why are you getting pissed off, dude?" He said.

"Because! I WAS OUT, MAN! I WAS FUCKING ON THE ROAD!" I paused and tried to rest my breathing. I was rageful. "You had to go and fucking get yourself stabbed! HOW THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO HELP YOU?! I WAS OUT OF TOWN." I started crying. "You fucker! You idiot! You got yourself killed over pizza!"

"Dude, it's not your fault. Please man. You don't have to do anything with that ridiculous list." Dick said, calm.

"It's obviously important! And I didn't read it but I skimmed it. And the part with the Asian hooker seemed feasible."

"Yeah, I felt every guy should be with a prostitute, right? Why not Asian?" Dick said.

"True that. I agree." I said.

"You shouldn't be driving. You seem slightly drunk and really worried." He said. I stepped on the pedal. Sped up. Motorists swerved out of my way. I screamed and growled. Fuck, I was drunk off my ass, with a bleeding hand.

I got home finally. Dick was not there at a certain point. I drove alone with my thoughts. I made some decisions and decided on thoughts. Pulled in and parked.

Inside the apartment. Lorrie Lovitt slept. I ran hot water in the kitchen. I washed my wounds. Lorrie entered the kitchen. She was wearing string bikini panties and a black tank top.

"Whoa. Put on pants." I said, trying not to stare but doing a horrible job.

"What happened to your hand?" She asked, concerned.

"Bar fight. I'm good." I said.

"You could have gotten seriously hurt."

"Would you please put on pants?" I asked, noticing her slender legs and hips that are smooth and cream like.

"Shut up. You are probably gonna need stitches." Lorrie was all business.

"Are we bothering Sloppy Deb?" I asked.

"She's a heavy sleeper."

"I can't feel my hand." I said. Then things started to get dark.

"How long have you been bleeding like this?" Lorrie asked.

"Few hours or so." I murmured. Then fell off this Earth.

"TUCK, CAN YOU HEAR ME?" Lorrie yelled. I shook my head. So she knew I was alive.

"Get ready to leave the state of California. We are going to White Castle." I said before I passed out.

"What?" Lorrie asked.

"The bucket list! That is all there is here from here on out." I said. Life faded into darkness. My last image was off Lorrie Lovitt in string bikini bottoms.
CHAPTER 8

Lorrie And Me Go To White Castle Part 1

(Downstairs Douche)

Do you remember the first time you ever fell in love? What about your first kiss? How about the first time you felt a boob or, if you're a chick, the first time you felt an erect wang? What is your earliest memory of using the restroom on your own? The first time you tasted ice cream or had a soda? I want you to close your eyes and actually summon these memories.

I'll give you some time to do that, unless you are some alien creature that can read with your eyes closed.

Now that you have done that, what was it? Well obviously you can't tell me, I'm not there with you now. I'm more than likely drunk wondering if anyone is reading this. I hope that you are and I hope you are enjoying it.

When I met Dick Pickett we immediately had three things in common. ONE, we were both in love with Melanie Kaiser(a blonde that was one grade ahead of us). TWO, we both loved the game Street Fighter. THREE, our favorite food was a McDonald's Happy Meal.

But, Dick had a secret, one that I did not know about until after his death. His first memory of fast food was not McDonald's. It was of a mysterious place seen only in TV and media for me.

A place called White Castle.

This did nothing to usurp his love for McDonald's, this was just something that was important enough for him to put on his bucket list.

So(in my best radio announcer voice)COMIN' IN AT NUMBER 10 OF DICK PICKETT'S BUCKET LIST:

10. EAT AT WHITE CASTLE.

My first fast food experience was a McDonald's Happy Meal. My little sisters first memory was of a Big Mac meal. I remember that my mom had offered me a regular meal and I was offended. I cared not for Big Mac's and Quarter Pounder's. Those meals did not even come with toys. But I managed to help my tiny sister finish her Big Mac.

There was something about your first fast food experience. It was more than comfort food. It was a right of passage into your true tastes. I doubt every one that ever bit into a burger loved it. I mean, even the angelic Lorrie Lovitt, she ate burgers when I wanted, but much to her chagrin.

In her defense when you're that slender the last thing you want is cheeseburger. The protein alone would make her sick. But she would always tough it out for me. Lorrie was what nature called, a peach. Sweet and soft. But after a few Jack Daniels on the rocks(like two)she could be a real pistol. And she got mouthier than a sailor on cocaine.

But I loved her. I mean, whatever that means. If love is pain then I loved her. If love is sacrifice then I loved her. If love meant making a complete ass of yourself in front of that person repeatedly, then I loved her.

Unfortunately, my hand was in bandages and I was hung over. The last thing in my head was a solid crystal clear image of Lorrie Lovitt in string bikini style panties. I smashed a half full glass of Jack and Coke Zero into the face of some idiot Nirvana fan.

DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list does not agree with smashing glasses of alcoholic beverages into the face of people that listen to horrible music. Nor do we believe these actions will make chicks in bikini panties to appear. If you want to see girls in bikini panties please consult the internet or drill holes into female locker room walls.

DISCLAIMER #2: My best friends bucket list is just kidding! UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU DRILL HOLES INTO WALLS TO CHECK OUT CHICKS. PLEASE CONSULT LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT IF YOU HAVE DONE SUCH.

The glass broke his nose but the shards stuck into my skin. Upon arriving home, Lorrie in her scantly clad panties used tweezers to pick out the glass, I had passed out by then. Still I woke up now and then with her kneeling at my side working on my hand like Salma Hayek in Desperado.

Now I was awake for real and hung over. The note on the fridge said that Lorrie had stepped out to the whole foods store. I opened the fridge to get a can of Mountain Dew Pitch Black. There was none. Luckily, it was Sunday. Which meant I could stop by the Swap Meet and see the Twins. They were my Dew suppliers. Jack and Jeff Davis. Two odd cats, but they were loyal. I hadn't seen them since Dick's funereal. Now that I thought of it, I hadn't seen much of anybody since Dick's burial.

"It's true, dude. What's up with that?" It was Dick. He occupied the couch I was just asleep in. I looked at him from the small kitchen. His throat and stomach wounds bled.

"I don't know. I guess I just haven't felt like talking to anyone."

"Well, now you have a mission to research. White Castle, dude." He said.

"And I have to explain the bucket list to Lorrie." I said and shook my head. A migraine throbbed.

"You're gonna have to ditch Downstairs Douche first, dude." Dick said, then disappeared. I heard a male voice, high pitched. Then the voice of Lorrie. Outside the door. Keys jingled. The lock shook and turned. Lorrie entered with bags, behind her was Downstairs Douche. His name was Miles or Milton. Me and Dick fucking hated him, but most chicks couldn't resist him, it appeared the same for Lorrie.

Downstairs Douche looked across between a young Matt Dillon and Patrick Swayze. Google the names if you don't know what I mean. But it was a strange combination of looks. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard and he never had anything enlightening to say.

The things Downstairs Douche talked about were: His car. His job. His looks. His taste in fine cuisine. Everything equaled Douche. None the less, Lorrie was laughing. The idiot was smiling as such.

"Hey, Tuck." Lorrie said to me. Douche just stood there, smiling. "Have you met Milton? He lives downstairs."

"I know him" I said, staring him down. He looked away like a pussy.

"Hey. Sorry to here about your best friend, Tuck." Douche said, looking at the ground.

"Bet you are. What are you doing in my apartment?" I had forgot Lorrie stood there.

"I just-" He tried to say.

"He was being a gentlemen and helping me with the bags." Lorrie said, attitude aimed at me in her tone.

"Well, THANK YOU, Miles. You can go now." I said.

"It's Milton." Lorrie corrected. But Miles was halfway out the door.

"Y'all come back now ya hear!" I shouted. I know it was a lame thing to say but I was angry.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Lorrie asked. I was not the only one pissed off.

"Me and Dick don't like that fucker, so I wouldn't recommend bringing him around here."

"Dick? Tuck, he's dead. Nothing he thinks matters anymore." Her voice was cold and I snapped. I grabbed a jar of baby pickles and threw it into the wall. The jar shattered. Lorrie shrieked loudly.

"This was still Dick's place and we hated that fucker. I don't want him in this apartment. If he steps foot in here, I'm putting mine in his face."

"You need to calm down. And now you owe me pickles, moron."

"Don't you call ME FUCKING NAMES!" I shouted. "I'm trying here! I'm doing the best I can!"

There was a stern knock on the apartment door. Lorrie rushed over to it and opened it. It was Downstairs Douche.

"Is everything okay up here? Are you okay, Lorrie?" He asked.

"We're fine, Miles. Hit the bricks." I said. Lorrie scowled at me.

"Thank you, Milton. We were just having a heated discussion. We're doing okay. Thank you for your concern."

"Just let me know if you ever need anything." Idiot said.

"I will." Lorrie the polite lady said. She shut the door and turned to me. "You are out of control, you need to calm down."

"I'm sorry I overreacted but you should know that me and Dick hated that guy and he is a severe Douche bag."

"Why are good hearted people always douche bags and losers to you?" Lorrie hissed at me.

"Cause you should never trust people. Especially people that go out of their way to be nice. They only want one thing. Maybe two."

"And what might those two things that be?" Lorrie asked.

"Money or pussy?"

"Shut up. Goddamn you're such a jack ass sometimes."

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, my blood boiling.

"Oh, you think I forgot about you and that hick. You just screwed her in the bathroom of the mall."

"Are you seriously bringing that up?" I couldn't believe it. Lorrie seemed to regret it immediately, but now my anger turned to a heavy weakness in my stomach and knees. I felt like she hit me in the midsection with a sledgehammer.

"I'm sorry. Can you help me clean this up."

"I got it. Just put away the rest of the stuff." I soaked up the pickle juice with paper towels. The used the broom to sweep the pickles and glass. I felt even more stupid knowing Lorrie hated pickles and that I loved them. She had obviously bought them for me.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Fucking Downstairs Douche. I had the broom in my hand and rushed to answer the door. Lorrie tried to get to it first, but could not. I pulled the door open fast.

"What the fuck-" What I saw cut me off. Two uniformed police officers stood in front of me. They looked fucking pissed. "How can I help you officers?"

"We got an anonymous call about a domestic disturbance." The first one said. I smiled as casual as possible.

"We were just singing and I knocked over the pickles. I can sing, but I can't dance." I said. The two cops made harder looking asshole faces. Then Lorrie was behind me.

"What's up?" She asked me.

"These two officers got a call about us being domestically disturbing." I said. The cops sighed loudly.

"Officers, we are so sorry, I hope our reenactment of Summer Lovin' from Grease wasn't too loud." Lorrie shot that teethy smile. The one that gave me goosebumps.

"I'm sorry I knocked over the pickles, honey." I said to her. In full character.

"It's okay Sweet Tart." Lorrie grinned at me. The cops were obviously pissed.

"Look, we don't care what you were doing or what you're hiding. But if we get another complaint from this unit, you will be going to jail." One of the cops said to me. Then the two walked off.

I took a deep breathe, closed the door. Lorrie watched me. I smiled at her.

"I need Dew Pitch Black. Then I want pizza. Are you in?"

"The Swap Meet and Johnny Basil's place? Today?" She couldn't believe it. I just smiled more. "We are in the middle of a fight and you have been acting crazy lately."

"I think this little trip will help. Please." I smiled again and it was on.

We stepped into the larger tent attached to video game tent at the Swap Meet. The giant flat screen displayed Marvel Vs Capcom 2. The Twins, Jack and Jeff Davis battled it out on the big screen. I cleared my throat. The game paused and they stood up.

"Tuck you are back for your pick up?" Jack said.

"Mr. Sawyer you are back?" Jeff said.

"Yeah. I'm here for the Pitch Black." I said. Lorrie stood close to me. Jack and Jeff were good guys but the last time Lorrie was here they eye raped her(see the chapter titled Epic Fist Fight At The Indoor Swap Meet On A Sunday).

"You brought Lorrie." Jack said.

"Miss Lorrie is here." Jeff said.

"Guys, focus and get me my Dew."

"Get the box, Jeff." Jack said.

"The box won't get itself, Jack." Jeff said.

They both stared at Lorrie and couldn't move. I went behind the TV, leaving Lorrie to distract them, took two twelve packs. Then we left.

The Twins remained in a trance.

At Johnny Basil's, Nico Saucony sat us in a corner booth. He was happy to see us and I was glad to see him. Nico was a good cat. He harbored guilt due to the fact that Dick had been delivering pizza's while covering his shift. That was the night Dick was killed(see the chapter titled Funereal For A Friend).

"What can I start you two off with?" Nico asked. I looked at Lorrie she seemed distant in her head.

"Give us a minute. Start us off with a couple Cokes, yeah?" I said.

"You got it, Tuck. Anything at all. Just let me know." He left us. I looked at Lorrie, she was very deep in her mind.

"Hey. What do you want on your pizza?" I asked her.

"I just like cheese. Whatever else you want."

"I have to talk to you about something." I said.

"What?"

"Dick's bucket list." I said, in a whisper.

"That's real? My god, I thought you were drunken rambling." She looked panicked.

"No. That's what was in the envelope. He wants me to do things he never got chance to. It's a big responsibility. I don't like it, but he would've done it for me." I said. Lorrie started crying, then she stopped and pulled herself together.

"Do you like Meatball and onion pizza?" She asked.

"What?"

"We are here for pizza, let's enjoy it."

"I like meat ball and onion." I smiled. The bucket list lingered in the back of my mind. "Look, last thing on the bucket list is to eat at White Castle but they only have those in the Midwest-" Nico cleared his throat, interrupting me. He held a piping hot meatball and onion pizza on a tray.

"Compliments of the house." He smiled and set it down. Then he brought the Cokes.

"Thanks, Nico." I said, sincere.

"Come see me before you leave, I got good news for you. In the mean time enjoy the pie." He left. I was anxious, now Nico had news, Lorrie ignored the bucket list.

"Chill, dude." Dick sat in the empty booth across from us. I couldn't answer him out loud so I had to mentally.

"I can't, I need to do this list for you. If not I'll never forgive myself or let you go." I thought.

"Damn, the pizza is really good." Lorrie said, a mouthful.

"I have to go to White Castle. It's what Dick wanted to do before he died." I said, stern but not mean.

"Fine. Go. Just be careful." Lorrie said and took another bite of pizza. My chest was tightening and the anxiety increased.

"Deep breathes, dude." Dick said.

"I want you to come with me." I said to Lorrie. She looked up at me like I called her a cunt.

"Why do you want me to go?" Because, I love you Lorrie.

"Because it was important to Dick. And we loved him." I said. Lorrie set down her slice of pizza and her eyes slowly filled with tears.

"I know, Tuck. I still love him. But, while you were with your mom, I had a long talk with mine. She and I agree it's best to move on with our lives. Accept the tragedy, but don't let it affect the future." She said. My heart clenched. I looked at Dick, he was crying, with a straight face. But tears fell from his cheeks, mixing in with the blood that poured from his wounds.

"Whatever you want, Lorrie."

"Why are you hurt?" She asked.

"I'm good." I lied, badly.

"You have never called me 'Lorrie', Tuck." Lorrie asked, scared.

"I need a drink." I flagged down Nico.

In seconds I was sucking down Jack Daniels on the rocks. Then Lorrie had her own Jack on the rocks. The pizza was gone and whatever filter I had was gone.

"It's fucked up of you if you don't want to assist me with Dick's final requests."

"You know I can't deal with this shit, Tucker. I'm gonna die before I can."

"You can do it. I got your back, angel. I would never let anything you hurt." I was drunk and didn't realize it until I had said that. Looked at the ice in my empty glass.

"You don't know what you want." Lorrie said. I stared at her suddenly sober. What the fuck did she mean by that?

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" I asked. And in that moment I noticed her. I really saw her. She wore a brown top, very bohemian, somewhat lacy. A long brown floral pattern skirt complimented her frame. Her milk chocolate brown hair, curly and soft. I wanted her more than I could remember wanting anything.

"What do I mean by what?" Lorrie slurred drunkenly. Nico was suddenly there at our side.

"Johnny says I gotta follow you two home. You drive, Tuck?"

"Yeah."

"Awright. Go puke and I'll have some coffee for you." Nico said.

I puked chunks of pizza in the sink and hot whiskey. The capillaries in my face had burst from purging. I looked like an asshole hobo. Maybe I was.

I pulled out of the parking lot, hot cup coffee with cream and sugar, Nico followed us in his Cadillac. Lorrie was drunk and sang along to oldies on the radio. Even Miss American Pie. I focused on driving, but the idea that Lorrie was wearing bikini panties under the skirt, was driving me insane.

We parked in the lot of the apartment complex. I told Lorrie to wait. Left the radio on for her. I got out to meet Nico and thank him for keeping us safe. He pulled behind us. I approached the drivers side window.

"Hey, thanks man. I owe you big time. We got strange drama, sorry you had to hear it."

"It's all good. You didn't hear my good news."

"Oh, yeah. What's up?"

"My uncle, he moved here two years ago from Jersey."

"That's awesome, man."

"No, it's not. But. He opened a White Castle franchise in the San Gabriel Valley. That's the awesome part." Nico smiled like Satan and swear I could've kissed him.

"You're serious." I said.

"I'll text you the directions." Nico said, then sped off.

I had Lorrie and escorted her into the open door of the apartment. She made her way straight to the kitchen. She grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel's from the freezer. I snatched it away from her.

"Hey. I need that." She said, calm.

"You have had a lot already." I said.

"It's important and I need to say something." She slurred, leaning up against the cabinets.

"Okay, tell me."

"I need a drink, first."

"No, not gonna happen. You need rest. We are going to White Castle tomorrow."

"I'm not." Lorrie said. Her face grave.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I have a date." She said. I clenched the frozen bottle of whiskey.

"Huh?" I said. The blood in my veins was lava. I needed to vomit my intestines.

"I'm sorry. I didn't sign up for a bucket list. Give me the Jack." Lorrie said. I tossed her the bottle. I couldn't breathe.

"Dude, please, deep breathes, man." Dick was there, watching.

"NO." I said. "Please, don't, Lorrie." Lorrie threw the bottle of Jack into the wall, it shattered.

"I CAN'T DO IT, TUCK. I CAN'T! I WANT DICK BACK. I WANT HIM BACK." Lorrie started vomiting on the floor. She screamed, feral screams of emotional pain. I held her tight, she pushed me away.

"I'm going on a date with Milton. He is sweet and kind." Lorrie said. I felt dizzy. There was loud stern knock at the door. Somehow I made it to open the door. It was two police officers.

"What the fuck do you want?" I asked, angry. If anyone reading this has ever been hit with a billy club in the gut, I'm sorry. I don't know what it did to you, but I collapsed to my knees, right before the stun gun hit my throat.

The last thing I remember was being handcuffed, behind my back, thrown into the back of a car. The vinyl reeked of wet urine. I was cheek to cheek with that vinyl.
CHAPTER 9

Lorrie And Me Go To White Castle Part 2

(The Legend of Savy Clarkson)

"I remember the year was nineteen sixty-four, wait, maybe sixty-five or sixty-six. Me and Big Jo Lou Greendale were playing a game of nine ball for nine hundred dollars. Which is probably about two million dollars nowadays money." Said Big Gary. He was my cell mate and had been talking my ear off forever. His breathe reeked of stale alcohol and he looked like a man that had been beat down and broken but refused to die.

Big Gary wore scars all over his face and hands. He looked like a real scrapper. Tall and wide, huge shoulders. But I was probably scarier looking then him at this point in life. But now I was going to be a prisoner.

I stared and wondered why there was no bed in the cell. Big Gary wore a dusty brown suit, matching fedora hat, brown and white wing tip shoes and a yellowed button down shirt. He loved to talk. I liked to worry about my prison sentence.

"You play billiards?" He asked, didn't wait for me to answer, "The place used to be called Pete's. A cat named Pete owned it. He used to sell moonshine behind the counter, to the right people of course. You see, back then folk's had integrity. They stayed outta each others business and let one another be. Unless of course, you started up some dust. Dust could be started up anywhere. At the barber shop, the five and dime, diners, in the street, schools..."

Big Gary continued to name places people would start up dust. I was ready to ask him a question as soon as he was done.

"Movie houses, brothels, candy store, sidewalks, public and private parks." He paused. "Basically, anyone could start up dust at anytime. That's why back then, you carried a blade. You never know when some weasel was gonna try to run up on you." Finally he stopped.

"Big Gary?"

"Yeah, Tucker?"

"When are they going to bring us beds?"I asked. Big Gary broke into an uproarious dry laugh.

"Son, we ain't in prison. This is the drunk tank. We'll be out in a few hours." He laughed, then smiled. "Boy, you are in some serious shit. I heard the police talking 'bout you. What's her name?"

Serious shit? I hoped Big Gary was joking. My bowels turned to acid again. I needed to evacuate them, soon.

"I think you have it all wrong." I said, weakly.

"Why you look so scared, my man? She didn't press charges. There was no proof of any physical violence. And the little show tune excuse you used didn't work. Your downstairs neighbor heard all the ruckus." Big Gary said.

"He's a nosy fucker. Now he's gonna take her on a fucking date." My anger replaced any fear I may have had. "I just wanna beat the living shit out of him."

"Sure, sure. Any chance to kick up some dust over a woman. I know, my man, I been there plenty. What's her name?"

"Lorrie Lovitt." I said. And saying the name pinched my temples. The though of her out with that idiot. He was probably nursing her back to sobriety. She was really drunk when I was arrested,

"Why that is a damn pretty name. Is she?" Big Gary asked.

"Is she what?"

"Pretty."

"She's beyond any of that. The only word I could ever summon to fit her profile is angelic." I said. She was probably being held by Milton, the downstairs douche, he was probably caressing her hair. Smelling the way she always smelled like peaches or lilacs. She was probably looking up at his stupid fucking hair. The emo kind that looks like he got smacked with a wet pillow.

"You don't look so good, man." Big Gary said.

"Yeah, dude, you really don't." Dick said. I looked up and my bloody dead best friend, the one that left behind the bucket list, bled and stared at me concerned and sad. Strange how men pick up on certain energies. I hadn't even had the thought yet, but everyone could feel it.

When the police released me, I was going to kill Milton, the downstairs douche, with my bare hands or the large kitchen knife in the drawer at the apartment.

I'm going to kill him twice if he even touched Lorrie, I thought.

"What if that's what she wants, dude?" Dick said. I didn't care anymore. Lorrie Lovitt is one mixed up girl and Milton will pay for it with his life. "Dude, you sound crazy right now."

"Who you staring at? You know it's only you and me in here, right? Please don't tell me you're one of those, I always get stuck with the loonies." Big Gary said and then spit on the concrete floor.

"I'm not crazy. I'm gonna kill that guy when I get outta here." I said, very sure of myself.

"And you think that gives you a clean bill of mental health? Are you trying to end up a place this for life? Over a woman?"

"SHE IS NOT JUST A WOMAN!" I said.

"Shit, hey now, I know. I been there, man. I'm a blues guitarist, Tucker. You think I ain't had a bad deal dealt with these witches of modern time?"

"Stop trying to plug your song titles. I have never had homicidal thoughts toward anyone but myself. This happens to be the first time in my entire life I have ever been sure of anything." I said. I wasn't lying either. Milton would die at my hands.

"Let me tell you a story-"

"Please, not another one."

"Or what? I suppose you may try and kill me? You a big cat and I would not want to be beat to death by you." Big Gary laughed his dry laugh. Dick looked concerned but said nothing.

"I wouldn't hurt you." I said.

"I know it. Look, this here story happens to pertain to the current situation. It's about a cat I knew named Savy. Savy Clarkson. He was a big man. One of the best blues musicians, hands down."

"Let me take a crack at what happened to him. Drove his car off the Santa Monica pier?" I said, sourly. Big Gary laughed hard. Dick joined in.

"No, no, Tucker. Savy was the best and then one day he wasn't."

"That's all?"

"Just keep your mouth shut and hear me..."

Big Gary Tells Me About Savy Clarkson

Savy Clarkson was number one in the underground blues scene. He was hot. His sound was like the finest razor sliding across every wrist in the room. When Savy played, you didn't hear the guitar, you felt it. The slides, the harmonics, palm muting, the pick plucking away at each string. The music intertwined with your soul.

The feeling was like being drunk on your porch when you should be at work or school. It was rebellious relaxation at its finest. No one could ever mimic the sound because it wasn't what he was playing, it was the way he played that couldn't be copied. Many have tried, even nowadays in the underground scene you can always find a Savy Clarkson copier.

All the ladies would be in tears, the men would have their faces in the sleeves of their jackets and shirts. Once Savy started up, you never wanted him to stop, and neither did he. You could always tell. The crowd and him became one in the warm Summer nights or the coldest Winters.

The thing was that no one knew where he came from. His background, what cities he had seen. It was rumored that he was a runaway: Ran away from home with his first pair of shoes, picked up the guitar when he first felt the blues. They used to say.

See in those days all the blues men sang about where they'd been, where they were headed, what they wanted to do. Not Savy. In fact Savy barely sang ever. But when he did, he always sang of a lady named Laurie. Like some mythical siren. A sort of a one-that-got-away tune, which most blues tunes are, but when he sang about that Laurie, you could hear the guitar suffering. He made the instrument suffer through his soul.

"So what happened?" I interrupted. Me and Dick were on the edge of our seats. "You said he was the best, then one day he couldn't play?"

So, story goes, the songs about Laurie were true. Laurie was the one that got away from Savy. She died giving birth to a child she had become pregnant with. Not with Savy, but with a rich white man, Duncan Chesterfield. Duncan and Laurie were having relations behind the back of Savy and Mrs. Chesterfield.

So, story has it, Savy just left. Took his guitar and never looked back. He didn't wait for a burial or a funereal. But he never spited her. Never spoke a bad word of her. Word on the beak is that Savy still holds a torch for Laurie. A blue flamed torch that burns in his heart.

"When did he stop playing?" I asked.

Well, it is said, four years after Laurie's death, Savy was playing a bar in Memphis. After his set he received a phone call that would change his life.

"Was it from a ghost? A dead Laurie?" I looked at Dick. He winked.

The call was from Laurie. But she was no ghost. She had been trying to hunt down Savy. You see, her death was forged to protect the Chesterfield Family, the child she gave birth to died during the birthing process. The whole thing was a cover up. That way there was no baby, or no woman to be linked back to Duncan Chesterfield.

After that, Savy and Laurie were reunited, he never did pick up his guitar again. That is not until Laurie committed suicide some years later. Story goes, she could never get over the guilt of having that Chesterfield miscarriage.

Big Gary's Story Is Over

I was confused now. The story of Savy Clarkson did touch me and it made me think a lot about Lorrie Lovitt. But a part of me still wanted to kill Milton. Especially if he so much as put his arm around her.

"Hey, man. What are you thinking?" Big Gary asked.

"Nothing. I guess about Savy Clarkson." I lied.

"You still wanna kill that man, huh?"

"Yeah." I said. I heard footsteps approaching the cell.

"Let me tell you a secret," Big Gary leaned into my ear, "Killing a man don't fix nothing."

"How would know?"

"Let's just say, story goes, Savy looked up old Duncan Chesterfield shortly after Laurie's suicide. He used a guitar string to end the mans life, strangled Duncan assassination style. Nearly took off poor Duncan's head in the process."

Something behind Big Gary's eyes stirred, I saw him different suddenly, my skin grew cold. "You're Savy Clarkson," I said in an icy whisper.

"No," He whispered back, "I'm just a copier of him. No one will ever be as good as he once was." Someone cleared their throat outside of the cell. It was the arresting officer of me.

"Hey!" The officer shouted.

"Yeah." I said, happy about finally leaving.

"Not you, show tune boy." He looked at Big Gary, "Salvatore Clarkson. You're out." The officer unlocked the cell and Big Gary/Savy Clarkson stood up and put on his hat. He turned to me and tipped his hat.

Then I was alone with Dick. Waiting for it to be my turn.

As I stood at the bus stop in front of the police station two things were in my head. One, Savy Clarkson and his epic tale. Two, I was hungry, I missed Lorrie, I wanted to kill Milton. Okay, maybe four things. Dick stood beside me. The blood from his wounds dripped on the sidewalk.

I had my wallet. Blackberry. Keys. Cash. It was almost noon. I couldn't believe I had spent that much time in the slammer. The big house. But something was different inside me. I would usually be in tears or having severe anxiety. None that was happening.

I wanted to give the credit to Savy Clarkson and his story, but truth was, the moment I decided I wanted to kill Milton was when something inside me snapped. Nothing mattered accept ending his superficial life and taking him away from Lorrie Lovitt.

The bus arrived and I almost paid for two tickets, forgetting momentarily that not everyone can't see Dick. I checked my phone and I had a text message from Nico Saucony. It was directions to his Uncle's White Castle franchise in the San Gabriel Valley.

I got off the bus and phoned a cab. Me and Dick waited at a corner liquor store. All the booze hounds and bums were there. I slipped inside to grab a small bottle of Jack Daniels for the road. Dick scowled at me.

"I'm not driving." Was all I said.

The cab showed up fifteen minutes later and it was clean and driven by a cute white girl. She probably had a gun. Otherwise the rape would never stop. Even though we were in California, some jobs never stop being dangerous.

"Where to?" She asked.

"Azusa Boulevard."

"Huh? In the SGV?"

"Yeah, you got a problem?" I asked.

"No, it's just far."

"Well, stick with me, I'll buy you some sliders. You ever eat White Castle?" I said.

"No, sir." She put the cab in gear and we were off.

"I know a secret location, we can grab lunch." I said politely.

"I'm not sucking your dick." The cabbie said.

"Okay, I'm not sucking yours either." I said.

"Just saying, a lot of guys try to buy me things in exchange for sexual favors." She said.

"I don't mean to be an asshole, but just focus on the road, you're not my type and if you don't want to eat I won't buy you food." After that she shut her mouth. Dick rolled his eyes and was making faces at the back of her head.

The inside of White Castle smelled like cooking hamburgers and the sweet onion smell of tiny chopped onions. There was a clear glass barrier between those preparing the food and those preparing to eat it. I was drooling over the smell and decided from the poster that I was going to order cheesy fries.

The cabbie stood behind me, looking around rather paranoid, but I smiled at her anyway.

"No one here expects you to suck them off, don't worry." I said. The cabbie rolled her eyes. I laughed and Dick was the happiest I had seen him since he was killed.

We ate sliders(mini burgers)and fries. The cabbie told me stories of working certain routes and fares. I didn't listen, I had heard a great story from Savy already. The whole time I imagined me slitting Milton's throat, it somehow made the food taste better.

Dick ate too. A lot for a dead ghost.

Before I knew it number 21 on Dick's bucket list had been fulfilled. It was time to catch the cab home and handle Milton.

I opened the door to the apartment. Lorrie must be helping her mother run the corner store she owned. No one was the there. The place smelled of bile, vomit, lilacs and peach. Lorrie must have spent last night there and showered in the morning.

Milton would be downstairs asleep. He worked graveyard shift as a EMT, he got to wear a uniform and drive around in an ambulance. He couldn't make it tonight though. He was done and over forever.

I took the largest butcher knife we owned. Put on some sterile rubber gloves. Snuck down to the managers place, she never locked the door. I took the spare key to Milton's apartment.

Inside Milton's place. I looked over the various knick knacks and pictures in frames. No one will miss him, I thought. I crept into the bedroom. Milton slept on his back, facing the ceiling, shirtless and about to get his neck sliced open.

The knife shined in Sunlight coming from outside. I slowly put the blade to his throat. Then something happened I did not expect. His eyes shot open, he saw me and the knife, and he screamed like a girl.

My only thought was to push the knife into his throat to quiet him.
CHAPTER 10

Easy As Pie

(number 9 on the bucket list)

(loose lips sink ships)

You know those situations where someone does something? Too vague? I mean, say some guy tries to stop a robbery but gets killed in the process? Or someone doubles down on an unsafe bet and loses it all?

When you watch on you would say, "If that were me I would've done this different." Or "That would not have happened to me." Or even "I would know exactly what to do in that situation."

Well, submitted for your approval:

I was on top of a shirtless guy named Milton. Milton was very, very scared. His fear was natural because I had a large, very sharp, kitchen knife to his throat. I saw his life flashing in the reflection of his eyes. I smiled and pressed the knife harder against his carotid artery.

"Milton. You called the cops on me. You thought I was abusing Lorrie. You put your nose where it didn't belong." I said, then paused. His stomach made a tight whimpering sound. "You are an Emergency Technician? Do you know how long you have to live when your carotid artery is severed?"

"Don't do this." Was all Milton said.

"Just like in the movies. That's exactly what you would say if this were a movie." I said. Milton looked bad. "Smile, Milton. Please. Let me see a Jack 'O Lantern grin and I won't have to carve one from your face." Something inside me had snapped and caused me to come down to his apartment with a large butcher knife and sterile gloved hands. But being there, with the knife and the power, it was intoxicating.

Milton attempted a smile. It was pathetic and I felt lightheaded. This was amazing. Total control.

"Dude, take a deep breathe. Think it through. Don't do this." Dick said. The ghost of my dead best friend sat at the foot of the bed. A part of him was right, but all the bad felt good. It would be so easy to push the knife into his throat.

"I want you to close your eyes, Milton. I want to you to imagine a time when you were the most happy you had ever been in your life," I said, Milton had began crying like a terrified five year old. "What is the memory?"

"NO. PLEASE. I DON'T WANNA DIE."

"Tell me the memory."

"The...the...first time-" He gagged and cried harder. "My mommy...she took...took...us to Disneyland."

"Who's us?" I said. I couldn't believe he'd actually said, Mommy.

"Sisters...my sisters." Milton said. Shaking like a dog shitting razors. I pushed the knife a little deeper, it broke the skin, he froze and his face went pale. Blood trickled down his neck.

I feared he would faint so I spoke fast, "Listen to me Milton, there are a lot of people that do not want me to kill you. They feel your death will change the course of my life drastically. They do say a man is never the same once he kills someone, or something, in cold blood. I want you to know that I could've easily done it. I could have slit your throat open, watched you choke on your own blood, then gone back upstairs, poured a drink and ordered pizza." Milton's eyes were wide, his shock was wearing thin and he was now shaking from the adrenaline draining. His throat would've bled like a geyser, so much pressure.

I continued, "Know that your life means nothing to me. Know that something dark inside me has snapped and I chose to spare you. Also know that I am in no way 'better than you' or anyone else not having killed you. I'm simply a man that could have easily ended you, but in the end chose not to. I can say with no regret that I am not being braggart or arrogant, when I say that today is the greatest most luckiest day of your life. Even if you leave this room and get hit by a truck, still the greatest day of your life." I paused, my heart was racing and the knife was itching to finish the job. "I hope I don't have to say that you can forget Lorrie Lovitt ever existed, if you call her, email her, text, send a letter, carrier pigeon, telegram, flowers or birthday card, I will be back and you will die. That is not a threat, it is a fact." I got off of Milton. He looked at me with a look I will never forget. It was the perfect look of respect and cold fear.

I looked at his digital clock.

"Don't you just love that?" I said.

"What?" He asked, shaking and crying.

"You still have six hours left to sleep before you gotta go to work. I envy that, I already started my day, bedtime is far away for me." I left on that note.

I was sleepy and it all hit me at once when I got back to the apartment. My body felt heavy and light all at once. Like I could just smash through floor or float away at the wrong step. Dick was nowhere to be found, I wondered where he went when he wasn't haunting me.

I wondered if there were a spirit limbo. Where ghosts of best friends that had left behind bucket lists hung out and stalked their former friends to ensure they were fulfilling their duties. I wondered if there were enough chairs at that place. Did ghosts need entertainment? Or even a place to sit?

It didn't seem likely. I took a deep breathe and thought of Lorrie Lovitt. The last time we had seen each other bottles were broken. She didn't want anything to do with Dick's bucket list and that was a shame, but I could respect it. I thought of the time she nursed my hand, she wore string bikini bottoms. I had had glass pieces in my skin from breaking a cup on a guys face.

It seemed that Lorrie was always there for me. It also seemed that the times she needed me I either brought up Dick or brushed her off. I did that because I was in love her and she would not allow herself to love me. Not that she was incapable, I just wasn't part of her plan.

I drank too much, was an ex-musician, didn't trust women, was considered chauvinistic at times. To put it lightly, I WAS THE FUCKING POLAR OPPOSITE OF LORRIE LOVITT. But something had to be done. The tension around her was getting more intense. We almost physically harmed each other the last time we talked.

I wondered something new. Did Lorrie even know I was out of jail? Would she return here or go home? Would she call here or go by the police station to make sure I was alright?

I knew that if Lorrie intended on coming back to the apartment, she would have left her back pack, the one she used to travel. I went into her room/Dick's old room. The back pack sat on the bed, open, random clothes were spilling from it. Toothpaste, toothbrush, mouthwash. The pair of string bikini bottoms she wore that fateful night. They looked worn, definitely have not been washed, my groin stirred. I forced myself to leave the room.

All I could see when I closed my eyes were those helpless cotton/polyester bottoms. They were spent and had been so close to Lorrie Lovitt's crotch. There was sure to be sweat and perspiration among other things. My love for Lorrie had really come to this? I was insane.

I couldn't hold back any longer, I rushed into the room, squeezed the string bikini bottoms in my hands.

DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list should not be considered a comedy story. Therefore, if the Disclaimer's are not considered funny to you, that is normal and you may want to consult a comedy website for laughs. In case you haven't realized it yet this Disclaimer is to distract you from what I did with/to Lorrie's panties in the bathroom.

I sink washed the bikini bottoms, decided on a new plan, grabbed all her clothes and took them down to the laundry room. I paid 2 dollars for a baby box of detergent. Then the clothes were washing and I felt better. Having never done anything like that before, I was surprised by how intense it was. I felt like I had a six pack of Mountain Dew Pitch Black.

When I got back into the apartment, Dick was waiting, he sat on the couch with a wicked grin. I went straight to the fridge for an ice cold can of Pitch Black. He was staring at me, I could feel his ghost eyes on the back of my head.

"Dude, don't ignore me." Dick said.

"Well, I know why you're here. To pass judgment on what I did."

"It was unique. Dude, I'm not pissed."

"You would have no right to be anyway, so I'm not tripping."

"Dude, you're saying I would have no right to be pissed? That was my girlfriend, now I'm dead and you're using her panties as jack assistance." Dick said, the first time I had seen him angry since before his death.

"You know it's not just that. You know I love her. You know I loved her since the second I laid eyes on her." I said.

"I was still her boyfriend. She still loves me, Tuck. That will make your 'please be with me and notice me' plan not work out very well. And I'm sorry about that, man, but Lorrie is complex and not entirely sane." Dick said.

"I'm starting to see that. And don't worry about me, I know what I'm doing." I said. Dick stood up and faced me.

"I hope you do know what you're doing, dude. Cause not that long ago it seemed like you were about to kill someone." Dick said.

"That was different." I said.

"But it started over Lorrie, it's only a matter of time before she moves on and you start killing men that want her."

"Maybe, maybe not." I said.  
"You need to confront her about your feelings, dude." Dick said. I thought about it and it seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

"Not yet. The wounds are too fresh."

"What the fuck are you waiting for dude? Her to let me go? Her to ask you out? You gotta step up man." Dick said.

"Yeah?! Fuck you. What the fuck do you know? GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HEAD!" I screamed. It probably sounded insane. But no one was there. Milton could hear me though, the idea was funny. Scared Milton. Downstairs trying to get sleep before a long graveyard shift.

"Just do something, dude. Do it soon. I don't like the person you're becoming." Dick said, then vanished.

I got Lorrie's laundry from the dryer. Folded it. Opened her back pack to put it away. There was a black and white composition notebook. It was labeled, Lorrie's Thoughts. It appeared to be a diary.

I read it. It basically said that I was no good for her. A negative influence even. She had become an alcoholic because of me. She wanted to kiss Milton. The harshness of the reality hit me like a tidal wave.

The back pack remained unpacked. I was on the floor, face in the carpet. She wanted Milton? I wanted to laugh maniacally. The thought was a joke in its own. Milton? Ha.

Somehow I got up and packed the back pack. Set it by the door. The sun was all the way down now. I sat on the couch with a half eaten turkey on wheat, a glass of Jack Daniels and Coke Zero.

"I'm sorry, dude." Dick said. He appeared to my right.

"It's all good man. I should have never raised my voice to you." I said.

"Are you not going to step up now because of Lorrie's notebook?"

"I wouldn't have anyway. The only feelings I have are of regret. I should've killed Milton."

"Not a good idea, dude." Dick said.

"Not now. It's too late. I scared him and it's over." I said. It was quiet for a beat.

"At least we are one more closer to finishing the bucket list." Dick said.

"How's that?" I asked. Dick handed me his bucket list. I looked at it.

9. USE A HOT CHICK'S DIRTY PANTIES TO JERK WITH

I laughed out loud. Great minds think alike, I thought. There was a sound at the door. Lorrie Lovitt used her key to come in. She looked amazing to me.

"Oh my god! Tuck!" Lorrie ran into my arms. We embraced and I allowed my mouth to fall against her cheek. She froze. The tension that had been building skyrocketed. "Tuck-" Lorrie tried to say, my mouth was on hers.

My tongue ran smoothly along her lips, she resisted at first, then parted her own lips. Our tongues met lightly and swirled around each other in a warm dance. We both cooed and whimpered in relief and emotion.

Then the kiss was over. Lorrie stepped a few feet back. She couldn't look at me, nor could I her. I had bad news for her, but no one knew in that moment.

"I-" Lorrie said.

"I, need your key, to the apartment. We have been spending too much time together and I'm in love with you. So it's killing me slowly." I said. Lorrie made eye contact, behind her eyes, betrayal.

"You are just going to kiss me like that then tell me to leave?" Lorrie started to cry.

"You don't love me."

"I'm sorry I didn't bail you out of jail, Tuck. The officer said the most you would do is twenty-four hours. I knew you were safe." Lorrie was about to freak out.

"It's not about any of that. I need space."

"After..." Her eyes were flooded in tears and she was working her way to a soft whimpering sound. "After you kiss me...you kiss me like that..."

"I'm sorry." Was all I said.

"Fuck you, Tucker Sawyer. Fuck you to hell." Was all Lorrie said. She grabbed her back pack and left, not before throwing her key at my chest. I was alone again.

I poured the last of the Jack Daniels. Hours had passed. I waited for Lorrie for some reason. I thought she might return. There was a light knock on the door. I almost didn't hear it.

I stumbled to the door. Smoothed down my hair, opened the door, ready to be greeted by Lorrie Lovitt's embrace. The butt of the rifle smashed into my cheek bone, cracking it on impact, I fell backwards, my head breaking the fall. Everything was hazy and starry.

I heard voices.

"That him?" Said a Redneck voice.

"Yeah, that's him." Came the familiar voice. Milton.

"Tie him up." Said another Redneck voice.

"Where we taking him?" Asked Milton.

"Depends." Said a Redneck. "We already got your money, we work for you. How far you wanna take this?"

"Let's get him some place no one will hear him scream." Milton said.

I laughed and spit blood at him. The rifle came at my face again and everything went black.
CHAPTER 11

Candy Colored Cabin

(Jenga!)

(unexpected guests)

Allison Reynolds. Uh, Alley Richardson. Carol Polly. Colleen, Peters? Peterson? No. Just the first names. Brianna. Brandy. Blanche. Karen. Karol. Katie. Cynthia. Francis. Jillian. Jennifer. Jenny. Jen Jen. There is more, I know there is.

I was tied to a cold metal chair, nylon rope, blindfolded. My cheekbone and mouth were swollen, they burned and stung. I was mentally reciting the names of all the girls I could remember having sex with, in no particular order, anything to not think about the current situation.

Macy. Taryn. Karyn. Julie. Nicki. Morgan. Mallory. Lili. Emily.

Carrie. Christine. Wait, no, those are Stephen King novels.

Ashley. Ashlee. Trixie. Michelle. Kelly. Shannon. Kellie. Kayla. Sandra. Becky.

I wasn't scared about my abduction. It was retribution for something I failed to do. I was going to kill that idiot Milton, I didn't, now I was in this situation. There was a darkness that was recently born inside me and I had failed to embrace it.

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.

"Jenga!!!" I shouted. The gunshot rang out against my head. Dick's Jenga blocks went tumbling over. Blood poured from my wrist, my head screamed. Nothing went dark like usual. I felt the blood pumping from the puncture in the vein.

I looked up. The two Rednecks had dropped to the floor, the rifle across the room also on the floor, Milton lie in the corner with blood spurting from his right knee.

The Rednecks screamed and pleaded, "Please don't kill us! Please!"

I looked at the doorway. Nico Saucony stood in the doorway, a gun drawn, Next to him was the big man Johnny Basil. Johnny held a smoking revolver. I was never happier to see those two cats in my life. Nico ran to my side.

"Tuck! Here wrap this around your wrist." He handed me a white handkerchief.

"How in the hell-" I attempted.

"All in good time. What do you want us to do with these guys? The Feeb in probably on there way." Nico said in a rush.

"Nah. The FBI stopped investigating The Johnson Family months ago. I just wanna go home and sleep, Nico." I said.

"You alright?" Johnny asked. I looked up at him.

"Yeh, I'm good Johnny."

"What do you want to do with EMT boy?" Johnny asked.

"I just really want out of here. I don't care." I said. Nico and Johnny undid the handcuffs and helped me to my feet.

"TUCK! CALL THESE GUYS OFF MAN." Milton yelled. "Tuck, come on man. Save some lives!"

"Please. Please. Please, Tuck." I heard the Rednecks cry out.

Nico led me slowly out the door, the air was cool and crisp. Johnny shut the cabin door behind us. I was now in the woods, just the sounds of crickets, cold breeze. Before I ducked into the back seat of Nico's car I heard several gunshots from inside the cabin.

Minutes the later the cabin was ablaze and Me, Nico, and Johnny were on our way back down toward society.

Several stitches and ice packs later Nico told me the tale of how Lorrie Lovitt accidentally saved my life. After I turned her away at the apartment she went to Johnny Basil's Pizza to get drunk. She told Nico the whole story. He left work early to see if I was O.K.

Pulling into the lot of my apartment building he saw three men carrying my unconscious body to their trunk. He followed them. Memorized the location. Rushed to get Johnny Basil and a couple pistols. The rest is history.

The next few days I played video games and drank German imported beer. The Bucket List was lingering. I looked over it, it made me nervous. I wanted the comfort of my home. The outside world was just horrible.

Lorrie had been by Milton's place a few times. I heard her knocking on his door. She even left him notes. She was heart broken. Meanwhile, I had quit my job. Meanwhile, I could taste Lorrie's kiss. Life was grand.

One fine afternoon, I was in the middle of beating my high score on Marvel Vs Capcom 2 for X-Box. It was only 2p.m. But I was almost drunk. My doorbell rang.

"I don't want to worship Jesus or Jehovah." I yelled. Silence.

"Tuck." I heard a soft voice. It was Lorrie Lovitt. I wanted to puke and shit acid at the same time. I checked the peep hole, as part of my new ritual. Sure enough it was the angel.

I opened the door. She came in. She looked bad. Like she had been crying for days.

"I know you don't want to see me, but-" Lorrie cried. "He's out, Tuck."

"What? Who?" I was on a new level of confused and trying to force myself to sober up.

"Darren Winchester. The nineteen year old that killed Dick. He's out of jail. In a home or something under the care of a conservator. I'm not clear on the details. But he's free to do what he pleases and eat what he wants and breathe fresh air." Lorrie cried hard. I held her and felt rage about it all.

Lorrie slept on the couch and I took to my bed. Though I didn't sleep. I thought of the kid that single handedly destroyed my best friends life. Then I thought of Johnny Basil. He seemed to not have a problem handling things. But then I didn't think much more of it as I slipped into sleep.

The next morning I awoke to the familiar smell of frying bacon and cooking eggs. Both were more familiar when Lorrie lived there, but I was grateful for it anyway. I dressed, vomited in the sink due to nerves, brushed my teeth and joined Lorrie at the table.

She served green tea and toast with the eggs and bacon.

"I'm training for a marathon next month." Lorrie said as we ate.

"You run marathons?" I asked through a mouthful of food.

"Yeah. Not as much as I used too, but I'm getting back into it." She said.

"What are you trying to prove?" I asked. "Or what are you insecure about?"

"What do you mean?" Lorrie asked.

"Well-" I started to say but was interrupted by the door bell. I went to the door and checked the peep hole per usual. The woman on the other side of the door was Cynthia Garcia. My ex. The first woman to ever truly destroy me.

I hadn't seen her in almost seven months. She had led me to her house under false pretenses when I was upset and we had amazing sex. Later she revealed to me that she was engaged and could never see me again. Yet here she was.

I opened the door and the first thing I noticed was her stomach. She had a baby bump.

"Hello, Tucker. My fiancee left me, you wanna take a wild guess why?" Was all she said.
CHAPTER 12

An Epic Pool Party

(Number 8 On The Bucket List)

(I throw a Rager)

Sometimes I would rather die then feel this way. That's what I was thinking as Lorrie Lovitt served eggs to a pregnant Cynthia Garcia. My ex girlfriend, that I had unprotected sex with seven months ago, whose fiancee had left her. She was a real piece of work and had a lot of moxie showing up at my place.

Cynthia chewed her eggs happily. Lorrie sipped green tea viciously, if such a thing were possible. She scowled at Cynthia, from the corner of her eye, which was made difficult due to the fact that they sat side by side. I was on the opposite side of the bar style counter.

I sipped green tea calmly and pretended to be into reading Dick's bucket list in hopes that maybe it will drop the worlds largest hint and both women will disappear.

I hadn't masturbated in a good month and the goo was building up. Of course these two could never understand a thing like that. Though I'm sure Cynthia may have heard the advice about masturbating while preggers. Something about it being good for you or the baby or the midwife.

The facts were unclear to me.

"Dick at work?" Cynthia asked, breaking the silence. The silence actually shattered in that moment when Lorrie's tea glass collided with the floor. She had dropped it in obvious shock. "What did I say?" Cynthia asked.

"Dick was killed a while ago." I said. "I didn't call to inform you because you were supposed to be married."

"Oh my god, Tuck, I am so sorry." Cynthia said, tears in her eyes, then she broke down into level three crying. I was irritated because I knew it was the hormones. Then something even worse happened. Lorrie joined her.

The two cried and I stared unsure what to do.

"Dude, get them out of the apartment." I heard Dick say. Then he was standing next to me, bleeding from his throat and stomach. Eternal wounds.

Where the hell could I take the woman I was in love with and my pregnant ex girlfriend that is neutral ground?

"The park, dude." Dick said. And my dead best friend was right. The park was neutral and full of underprivileged families. It really put the world into perspective.

"Alright ladies, let's all relax. We're going to the park." I said with gentle authority.

"Can we stop for a churro? Dipped in pretzel mustard?" Cynthia asked, still bawling.

"Of course." I said.

"And deep fried pickles with three scoops of vanilla ice cream on top?" Cynthia continued.

"I wouldn't even know where to get that." I said. Lorrie had stopped crying and went back to scowling at Cynthia.

"I need to throw up." Lorrie said and ran off to the bathroom holding her stomach.

"Period cramps." Cynthia said with confidence.

"Gross." I said and poured out what was left of my green tea. I suddenly didn't want anything in my stomach.

The day was warm and slightly cloudy. The good kind of cloudy. Post card cloudy. The large blue sea above us known as the sky complimented the greenery and various other colors of the park. To my left was Cynthia. To my right Lorrie Lovitt.

Lorrie sipped a diet seven up I bought her for her stomach. Cynthia ate her churro smothered in spicy mustard. That required two stops. I fought the urge to put my arm around Lorrie.

Occasionally, me and Lorrie's hands would touch from the swinging that our arms did while walking. Each touch was like small shocks of electricity running up my arm. The sun beamed off of Lorrie's face turning her chestnut eyes a fine chocolate brown. So many nights I lie awake thinking of her eyes.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked. Lorrie nodded. I patted her lightly on her upper back.

"That's good. If you need anything let me know." I said and realized I was whispering. Cynthia was lost in the sugary cinnamon deep fried world of her Hispanic snack. She smiled at the sky, watched the children that were frolicking at the playground. I had never seen her so happy in all the years I'd know her.

Just when I though Dick's plan to bring them to the park was fool proof, things went sour.

"We still need to have a talk, Tuck." Cynthia said, staring off into the distance.

"I know." I said.

"Do you? Do you really know?" Cynthia asked.

"Yeah." I said.

"We don't have a lot of time. I'm seven months pregnant here. I need your decision on this. I know what you're thinking, it's my body right? Well, it does take two to tango or swing dance and what we did that night was very dirty."

"We can talk tonight. But I have some planning to do. So this park trip will have to be short." I said, letting urgency creep into my voice.

"What do you have to plan?" Cynthia asked.

"Yeah, what's up?" Lorrie asked.

"Well," I pulled the bucket list from my back pocket. "Number 19 on Dick's bucket list"

"What is it?" Lorrie asked, concern in her voice.

8. THROW AN EPIC POOL PARTY

"What do you know about throwing parties? You hate people and you REALLY hate parties." Cynthia said. Very interesting fact.

"Hate is a strong word. Despise is better suited. I can't not do it, it's on Dick's bucket list." I said.

"You're going to need help." Lorrie said.

"I know it. I have a small idea for a plan. Unfortunately neither of you are involved. So if I may now please drive you all back to your places of living." I said.

After I dropped Lorrie and Cynthia off at their cars, ignoring their scowls, I pulled onto the main street and headed toward my Uncle Tommy's place. He was retired as a night hospital janitor. He knew more about the way humans should behave than anyone. The reason was because he spent his retirement watching TV shows on DVD.

I parked in Tommy's driveway behind his Mustang. I let myself into the house. On his ginormous flat screen HD TV the show Friends played. I sat down on the love seat next to his La-Z-Boy chair. Tommy sipped a can of Miller Lite. His eyes were glued to the giant picture.

"Tommy, I'm back." I said.

"What now?" He asked. On the screen Chandler tried explaining something with a lot of hand gestures.

"I need to throw an epic pool party. I don't know how."

"You want to throw an epic pool party? Or an epic unforgettable Rager?" Tommy asked, enthusiasm creeping into his voice.

"Which one should I?" I asked.

"Well," Tommy looked at me, smiled. " Your basic pool party is good and fun. But a Rager is epic and unforgettable. Something always goes wrong, but you never regret it. Like in the episode of The O.C. Where they throw a birthday party for Trey, but it turns into a Rager and Holly OD's in the pool and Trey takes the wrap for selling drugs when he really didn't."

"O.K. I'll do that one." I got up to go have a Rager.

"Whoa, Tuck, slow down. A Rager won't happen over night. This isn't TV. This is reality. If it was TV or a book, it was have to be broken up into two parts. If it were TV it would definitely end with the words: To Be Continued..."

"So you'll help me?"

"Only if I can attend?"

"Of course, the more the angrier or whatever the hell goes on at these things." I said.

"Dude, this sounds crazy and not at all very safe." Dick said. He was waiting for me by the car. He didn't look happy and he bled from his wounds.

"Relax, it's just going to be a party. Rager is just a word people use to make it sound cooler." I said. I got in the Zephyr and started it up. We drove to Johnny Basil's Pizza. I was hungry now that the ladies were gone.

Inside the pizzeria. I ordered a slice and a Jack and Coke Zero. I thought about the notion of raising a child with Cynthia. It was obviously too late to abort that mission. But she wanted to know whether or not I was going to be her baby's daddy.

The slice was hot and cheesy. The Jack and Coke was cold and perfect. If I had a kid surely it would interrupt moments like this. I had a lot of thinking to do. Cynthia couldn't be dodged forever. Lorrie would eventually give up on me if I continued to give her mixed signals. The party I was planning had to be epic. I knew nothing of epic.

I finished my slice and had three or five more Jack and Cokes. Nico and Johnny were off so I was stuck with the other staff. The ones I don't think could speak English. The door opened and two guys were having a gossipy and low conversation.

"I haven't seen him. He just stopped coming to work."

"I heard he fucking disappeared into thin air."

From the corner of my eye I could make out the uniforms. They were both EMT's. For some reason a silent bell went off in my head, but I ignored it. They sat a few stools down from me at the bar. Their conversation continued.

"Those guys were asking deep questions, they were fucking pissed. The shift supervisor almost shit himself."

"I heard that part. I don't know who they are, but they are into some serious shit, I heard they were like foreign or some shit."

"Fucking Russian. They were all suited up and shit. Godfather type of guys. Mafioso's."

"Scary shit. This world is fucked up."

The two EMT's talked on. Little pieces of their conversation set off bells in my head, but for some reason I had no idea why. Then I remembered why I hated eating in public. Other peoples conversations.

Annoying as fuck.

I stood on the red carpeted floor. The heat from the heater lamps radiated on my face. The smell the in the air was amazing. My stomach growled fiercely. Steam raised off the piping hot food behind the glass. The glass barrier was held by gold poles with faded gold lining.

The Chinese food place was made up to look like some set up in a Chinese and if the place didn't look like it was constructed in the seventies, I would have believed I was in an actual palace.

The girl with the pink hair behind the counter, the one that also sported too much black eyeliner, the one that was also covered in scary tattoos...Her. Well she was just fantastic. When I looked at her my penis jumped a bit. She looked the way a girl would look if maybe she kept razor blades in her pussy, in case some unlucky chap wanted to stick it in her.

If that were the case and if she'd given me an opportunity, my cock would be a bloody stump. Men will do almost anything for a woman if one look makes their dick jump.

It was my turn to approach the steamy glass as the soccer mom and her million kids had placed their order.

"Welcome to Ching Chong's Chinese Food." said the pink haired one. Her tone was that of depression and near suicide. I felt the name of the restaurant could be interpreted as racist or even offensive. But regardless this was where my Uncle Tommy recommended I came to get food if I wanted to get some for the Rager.

DISCLAIMER: My best friends bucket list would like to let you know that according to Urban Dictionary a Rager is described as:

A larger gathering usually of high school or college students where massive amounts of alcohol are consumed.Well, in our case, also ridiculous amounts of drugs. But let's not jump ahead of ourselves. I didn't know anybody that was in high school or college but number 8 on my best friend's bucket list was to have an epic pool party, but my Uncle Tommy convinced me to have an epic Rager instead.

"Hi, I'm throwing an epic Rager, I need food for, I don't know, say twenty people. What do you recommend?" I said to Pinky.

"I don't fucking care what you're doing. But I recommend the Ching Chong Platter, it's a hundred bucks."

"Oh, well-" I tried to say.

"You don't have a hundred bucks do you? Figures." Pinky said. Her small breasts rose and fell with a sigh. Her pouty pierced lower lip, her porcelain green eyes.

"I have money, if you'd stop being a bitch and let me pay you."

"Don't fucking talk to me like that, we have to refuse asshole-"

"Lower your voice, bitch, when was the last time a guy really took his time and sucked on your pussy, that's the problem."

"You fucking faggot, I don't know who the fuck who think you're talking too." Pinky's hair went well with her red face and throat. She was pissed off and I was full of adrenaline. The soccer mom and her kids looked scared.

There was a dead silence for a few beats. Then Pinky spoke.

"I have a break in fifteen minutes. My car is out back. A blue Jetta."

An hour later I sucked on a mouthful of breath mints, her pussy didn't taste bad by any means and there were no razor blades, but I was on my way to drop off food to Cynthia. And word on the beak is that showing up with food for your pregnant ex girlfriend with the smell of goth pussy on your breathe isn't just wrong, it's also bad karma.

I also had to deal with the fact that I had been avoiding the "talk" between the two of us. Though she was unclear about what said "talk" was about, I was under the impression that the conversation was in fact about whether or not I was going to be a father to her, and I guess, my child.

The taste of Pinky lingered and so did my massive erection. That was the problem with just giving, it left you hard with no means of release. I thought of how large Cynthia's tits had become and how her ass had really rounded out. The pregnancy bug was doing wonders to her body. Then a curious thought struck me. Could I count on her for physical release? A BJ? A HJ? Maybe even a TF?

It was worth a try and after all, was I not bringing her food? I deserved something in return, if even flash of her milk filled mammarie's. I probably should've taken up Pinky's offer on a blow job, but I was in somewhat of a hurry and the Rager was tonight.

My Uncle Tommy promised to handle the booze and D.J. He even said he would get us a good crowd of people. The Rager was to be thrown at his buddy Murrey's place. Murrey was out of town and Tommy was feeding his fish. He had a key to the place and Murrey had a large swimming pool in the back.

The plan was fool proof.

"I don't know about this, dude." Dick said. He was suddenly riding shot gun. He bled from his throat and stomach wounds.

"What's your damage on this plan? It was on your bucket list?" I asked.

"Something about it, dude, seems shady. I meant an old school type of pool party. With lemonade and beer and mini sandwich appetizers." Dick said.

"Well how the hell am I supposed to interpret that with just the words, epic pool party. I can't read that much between the lines."

"I know, dude, I just feel like this will end badly." Dick said. Now I was pissed.

"You can't feel anything, you are fucking dead! And a figment of my imagination!" I screamed. Then Dick disappeared. And I was at Cynthia's house. She lived three houses down from Uncle Tommy's place.

It appeared only she was home. The erection I had was wearing thin, pun intended. To my surprise it was not Cynthia that answered the door, but her much more petite sister, Maria. For a petite chick Maria had a firm ass and prominent hips.

Maria scowled at me.

"What the FUCK do you want?" She asked with acid in her tone. I was certainly popular with the ladies today, I thought.

"Hello to you too. Delivery for the pregger in the house." I said smoothly as possible. In case I would have to try to convince Maria to get me off.

"She's in her room resting. What the fuck took you so long? She's had dumpling cravings for hours."

"Traffic." I said.

"Yeah right. You smell like pussy."

"That's weird, because so do you! Crazy, right?" I said and walked past her to Cynthia's room. I ignored the fact that even though I wanted to shove my tongue up her asshole that Maria has always hated me. I guess that was part of the reason my mouth longed to explore her rectum.

Men often wonder the flavor of the rectum of women that they find attractive, that in reality hate them. It's true. Ask around.

Cynthia was propped up in her bed watching Teen Mom. She looked miserable. Unlike her happy-go-lucky self from yesterday at the park. She saw me and perked up a bit.

"Hey! You made it. You have my food?" Cynthia asked. Because I held a plastic bag containing a Styrofoam container containing a medley of dumplings, orange chicken, chow mein, fried rice, BBQ pork, etc. Pregnant women could eat.

"Here ya go." I said, handing her the bag. She tore it open and dug in. She smiled while she chewed some pork and noodles. My stomach still growled.

"You can change it." Cynthia said as she ate. I channel surfed not paying attention. I stopped at the news, then stared off into space.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to wake up to an infant in a crib, Cynthia cooking breakfast, dressing for work. My space no longer being my space, but our space. I couldn't imagine it.

The news anchor on screen went on about some random shit:

"The F.B.I. Has officially stepped in. Though there are no statements being made, the whole Inland Empire is convinced the Russian Mob is here and active. Many believe they are behind these mysterious break in's and the mysterious disappearance of this man, Milton Johnson-"

I clicked the Off button on the remote. News was really boring and I still needed to ask Cynthia whether or not she would help me with gratification. She put away the food like a garbage disposal. Between one of her bites I asked.

"We still need to have that talk?"

"Yeah. It's important." She said with oil and noodles on her lips. And she was right. It was important. It was time for me to figure out what I wanted to do. In that moment I wanted to ejaculate all over her tits.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" I said.

"It's not up to me, Tuck. But I would want you to call him and explain to him the truth, by lying, I guess." Cynthia confused me.

"Huh? Call who?"

"My ex fiancee, Julio. He thinks I cheated on him and made a baby. If you can explain to him that we never had sex, then maybe he'll listen to you." Cynthia said. And it all made sense in that moment. She never wanted me to be the daddy, just help her get her ex back.

"How'd he find out?"

"Our neighbor, Nosy Rosy, saw you leaving that night and spread rumors throughout the neighborhood. He was suspicious and paranoid after that. Then I became pregnant from his seed but he couldn't believe it. He was told by a specialist he was sterile."

"So I'm the father?" I asked with a dry mouth.

"No, Julio is the father, and he always will be. You're just an ex that stopped by for lemonade." Cynthia said. Even though she said it with obvious ominous intentions, the conclusion was clear. I was no father. Just a sperm donor. And that was fine with me.

"I'll come by tomorrow evening and get Julio on the horn. I'll clear everything up, trust me. Enjoy your food." I said. Then I turned the TV back on, put it back to Teen Mom, then left the room with the intention of leaving.

Maria stood blocking the front door, obviously to prevent me from leaving. She glared at me, then licked her lips.

"I heard that you're not on the hook anymore for being my sisters baby daddy."

"Yeah, so?"

"Why did you have a hard dick when you came in?"

"I was thinking about things, it was a natural trigger, nothing personal." I said, scared of law suits.

"You're gonna stick your hard on on my wet cunt." Maria said. Then she pulled up her skirt to reveal that she was ready.

"Uh?" Was what I managed to say.

As Maria rubbed her moist crotch, she spoke, "Did the bitches pussy taste good? Tell me about it."

Maria, Cynthia's sister, was four years younger than me at the time. Her pussy was a light mocha color, her lips and gash a light pink. And she was WET. I told her the tale of Pinky the Chinese food clerk and she brought herself to orgasm right there, in front of the door, then she took me to the room she was staying in.

Maria blasted some Morrissey song on her iPod that was attached to a dock with speakers. Then she put her lips to my ear and whispered the following phrase repeatedly as she masturbated yet again:

"You gonna fuck my pussy, you gonna fuck me deep like a fuckin' lesbian slut?"

I didn't reply, but I had enough pre-cum to fill a medium pickle jar, it was starting to seep through my jeans. I feared that my cock might physically explode or spontaneously cum-bust(get it? Lol). Then what seemed like a hundred minutes later she freed the beast through the zipper and straddled it.

Maria rode me for nine minutes and sixteen seconds. I was counting, because I had blown my load in sixteen seconds, the nine minutes were hell.

On the drive home I knew I was going to have to shower before this Rager. I reeked of pussy and my cock was drained. The day couldn't get any weirder. Things weren't going great, though they weren't going bad.

I saw the blue and red gumballs in my peripherals. It took at least thirty seconds to realize I was being pulled over. In most cases I would be nervous. But with the day I was having I felt a P-I-M-P. Leave it to the cops to fuck that shit up in a matter of minutes.

"What did I do officer?" I asked.

"License. Is your middle name Eugene?" The beefed up white cop with the crew cut asked.

"Yeah."

"Did you know you were on suspension?" He asked with authority(insert Cartman voice). I immediately thought of school and the times I was suspended from it. They were much happier times than this.

"No." Was all I said.

"Hang tight." Cop guy said. He disappeared behind the spinning gumballs. The sirens reminded me of the blue ice cream from the donut shop when I was a kid. It tasted like bubble gum and even had gumballs in it.

Then I had another thought, jail. No, not again, I thought. Nothing more boring than jail. I was lucky enough to have a interesting cell the mate the time I spent there. Would I really get arrested over some dumb shit like this? No way, I thought. I wasn't a criminal. Driving with a suspended license shouldn't even be considered criminal activity.

The cop guy returned.

"Step out of the vehicle, sir. Remove any belongings you may need in the next thirty days."

"Huh?" I said.

"Now!" Cop guy said.

The tow truck driver drove away with my Zephyr. I was standing on a sidewalk with a hundred dollars worth of Chinese food. My BlackBerry rang. It was Uncle Tommy.

"Hey." I said.

"Where the hell are you?"

"On the sidewalk with a hundred bucks worth of Chinese food. Got pulled over, license was on suspension for some unpaid ticket from a million years ago, they impounded my Zephyr."

"What the fuck?" My Uncle Tommy said. I had a suggestion though.

"Why don't you come pick me up and we can finish planning this shit?"

We were at Murrey's house. The backyard was decorated in Hawaiian Luau fashion. Outside of the six kegs it seemed like a typical backyard pool party. There was a D.J. Set up on a small stage. Behind the D.J. There was a drum kit and amplifiers.

"What's with that?" I asked.

"I couldn't book the D.J. For the whole night so a band will be filling in after he splits." Tommy said.

"I trust you." I said. Then I sent Lorrie Lovitt a text message about the Rager. It had been hours since I had thought about her. I hoped I wasn't losing interest. I was aware that I had hooked up with some chicks and such, but that was just pussy, my heart belonged to Lorrie Lovitt.

Lorrie was what I thought of when I woke up. What I thought of while drinking. I thought of her in the shower. She was my best friends girlfriend at some point before he was killed and left behind the bucket list. She was my angel, her chestnut brown eyes and smooth face topped with soft brown hair.

I missed her. That was the thing that I felt my mind and body was missing. It was Her. I needed my fix. Hopefully she would come to the Rager. I had showered and changed in to fresh clothes, brushed and mouth washed, but I felt the taste of Pinky lingered. I chewed copious amounts of gum to over compensate.

The sun was setting down to sleep and the moon and darkness rushed the skies. The darkness soon took over and the streetlights turned on to shed light for the humans. I sat on a beach chair, poolside, sulking. Uncle Tommy appeared to refresh my Heineken and shot of Jack.

"What's the deal?" Tommy asked and it sounded odd coming from him. I looked up and Tommy was dressed in an American Eagle polo shirt(tight)it hugged his beer gut, tight jeans, neon looking tennis shoes, and a trucker hat that read: "Hug Me."

Uncle Tommy also wore one of those black rubber bracelets that are supposed to prevent from falling over. He looked ridiculous.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" I asked.

"Gotta fit in, Tuck. There are going to be college kids here. They can smell age." He said. I pulled off his trucker hat.

"Did you frost your tips?"

"A little. Not much. It takes a few years off."

"Good. Now you should look Forty-seven." I said.

"Don't hate the player, hate the game." Tommy said. Then as if on the cue the D.J. Started playing robotic sounding noise with heavy bass. I did my shot and chased it with my beer.

The back wooden gate door flew open and a large stampede of college kids rushed in and made themselves at home. Some hit the kegs. Others just jumped straight on the pool. Some rushed my Chinese buffet and ate. All in all it was a Girls Gone Wild infomercial.

I saw plenty of tits and asses. I saw plenty of vomiting. A few small fights broke out.

"Hey." I heard a soft voice say below the loud robotic crescendo. I looked up from the beach chair, it was Lorrie Lovitt. I sucked my gut in the best I could, I was not wearing a shirt. The moonlight radiated her pale skin.

"Hey." I said back and sat up like a soldier in the presence of an officer.

"I circled the block a few times, I didn't see your car."

"It got impounded." I said and locked eyes with the love of my life.

"WHAT? I'm so sorry." Lorrie said. Sat down in the empty chair next to me and took my hand in hers.

"It's, uh, it's O.K." I said through cotton mouth.

"No, it's not. I want to be here for you Tuck, no matter what." Lorrie squeezed my hand. The sensations sent electric shocks from my spine to my cock.

"Uh, yeah." I said. Lorrie moved her lips toward mine. The two pairs of lips in mid-air. Our lips touched so gently. Her's were wet. Mine dry. In that moment I heard sad music, I figured I was drunk. The song went:

"Laurie don't break me apart again. The love you spread is a sin. OHHH...Laurie don't break me apart again. The love you plan to spread will drive me insane.

And OHHH...OHHH...I can't push myself to leave. I will always stay to give...

Me and Lorrie's kiss continued and the intensity made me want to be sick. My stomach nervous. The song continued:

"This knife in my back, will never match the stab, and this knife in my back will never match the stab. OHHH...LAURIE. OHHH...LAURIE.

The crazy kiss ended and so did the crazy sad blues song, I realized it was our live band. The D.J. Was gone and I could relax and end the party.

"I missed you." Lorrie Lovitt said.

"Me too." Was all I said.

"I can't believe you ate sushi without me." Lorrie said. "You know I love sushi, you should bring me next time."

"Yeah, for sure." I said. Lorrie's reaction to the sushi meant that I wasn't crazy, the taste of Pinky had lingered. I felt embarrassed. But we still held hands, it felt like a cloud had melted in my heart.

"TUCK SAWYER?! IS THAT YOU?!" Said a loud voice. I looked up and realized it was the singer of the band. The guy had a guitar strapped on and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. But, through all that, I could see that it was none other than Savvy Clarkson. The blues man I had been locked up with.

He had spoken in to a microphone. That's why it sounded loud and scary.

"It's me, man." I yelled and the crowd cheered.

"This next song goes to my man, Tuck Sawyer. Tuff as nails mother trucker." Savvy said. The crowd screamed and he started playing a mesmerizing blues tune. Lorrie and I cried as the song played. The sound and music stopped suddenly and I was pulled from my trance.

The crowd scattered, I heard a scream, the scream said:

"SHE'S DEAD!"

I stared at the body that floated face down in the pool. She was slender and had really long dark hair. The back yard was now empty. Lorrie and I held hands still. Savvy and the band had gone.

Uncle Tommy stood in the corner sweating. I told Lorrie to sit and wait. I approached Tommy as sirens scraped the air. He looked freaked.

"It's the Russian bitch, Elsa. She was selling this new Russian drug, called Cloud Nine. I let her sell it." Tommy said.

"Hey, relax. We can handle this."

"No. I told her she could sell it here. It was a Rager. A real Rager!" Uncle Tommy laughed like a sweaty overweight maniac. "I'm SO TREY ATWOOD! I AM TREY ATWOOD, TUCK, YOU'RE RYAN! I GOT YOU'RE BACK!"

My Uncle Tommy was arrested. He took the fall for selling Cloud Nine. Lorrie and me were questioned on the unknown Russian. I hadn't seen her and Lorrie had only been there for thirty minutes. The police seemed satisfied.

Then the FBI showed up.

They conducted an interview with me that went like this:

FBI: You know any Russians?

Me: I don't, sir.

FBI: You ever heard of a Elsa Spotnik?

Me: Never.

FBI: Before tonight, have you ever heard of a drug called "Cloud Nine"?

Me: No, sir.

FBI: Before tonight have you ever heard or spoken with a Boris Spotnik?

Me: No, sir.

FBI: Before tonight have you had any ties with a man named Salvatore Clarkson?

ME: Not of recent memory.

FBI: Did you eat sushi today?

Me: No, sir. It was vagina.

FBI: Try rinsing with vinegar.

Me: Thanks.

FBI: Do you know Murrey Weinstein?

Me: No, sir.

Lorrie and me were released and we went back to my place. For some reason now it was awkward. She tried to hold my hand and I pretended to have to use the restroom. Lorrie sat on the couch and I puked into the toilet.

Something wasn't right. Something was awry. I had driven Lorrie and me home in my Uncle's Mustang. Dead Russian girl in pool. Weird new Russian drug. Lorrie kissing me. It all did not add up.

When I returned to the couch nothing had changed. Lorrie leaned over, I kissed her hard on the lips, we groped each other. My cock would not move. We kissed harder and I rubbed harder on her body.

My cock did not move. It had been drained. Shit. What the hell was going on?

"I should be going." Lorrie said. She sounded hurt.

"Wait, it's not you. My penis was drained earlier in the day. Maria and the goth girl Pinky, it was a long day."

"WHAT?" Lorrie's eyes filled with tears and she ran out of the apartment.

"WAIT!" I screamed at a closed door and an empty apartment. I cried hard and held my head in my hands.

The door to the apartment burst opened. A large man in a black coat stood there. Four larger men behind him.

"Hey," Said the man with the Russian accent, "Where is are the Cloud Nine tablets?"

"Huh?" I said.

"And where the FUCK is my DAUGHTER, Elsa?!"

CHAPTER 13

Boris And Me

(twenty-four hour dilemma)

(Elsa Spotnik returns from the dead)

There were a few moments in my life where I said, "What the fuck?" They were rare times. Some things just happened and that was life. Like the first time we became obsessed with a girl.

I think I was in third grade. Her name was Mayra. She had pale skin, red hair, freckles and she resembled the nosy neighbor from Small Wonder. I wanted her.

At that point I did not know what true WANT was. I did not even know the concept of NEED. The NEED for a drink. The NEED for a smoke. The NEED for a fix of drugs. Even the NEED for sexual release.

Wait, I think it goes back even farther.

Her name was Kelsey. I won't describe her because it would be creepy and my memory is a little foggy. I was five years old, maybe six, maybe seven. Definitely one of those three. You know how now it all seems the same?

Kelsey was my first kiss. She was a year or two older than me. Her mom and my mom would get drunk together in the middle of the day. That would leave us two unattended. We took full advantage of it. It is a miracle we were never killed.

We stole money to buy ice cream and toys from the smelly middle eastern cat that drove the scary truck. We made mud pies. We used to hide in the bushes and throw rocks at cars that were driving by. We would play in the sprinklers. Throw rocks at black widow nests and wasps as well. It really is a miracle that we were never even injured.

One day we were sitting behind a mulberry bush that covered part of the house. Before the bush had grown years before someone had built a long wooden bench into the side of the house, so the bush grew in front of it. We were completely camouflaged there.

We used to just sit and watch the streets, wait for the ice cream man, or hide from our mothers, if they were too drunk and mad. Kelsey looked at me funny that day, I returned her stare, my guts bubbled and I was nervous. She kissed me very lightly on the lips. She smelled like dirt and cookies. I was frozen in shock.

My heart jumped, I grabbed her face and pulled her to my lips. Just like I had seen in the movies. We kissed a bunch that day. Every time we returned to our bench behind the mulberry bush we would kiss. This all happened in the span of a day. Then by the end of the day it was clear I was more interested in kissing than playing. Kelsey didn't want to return to our place behind the bush anymore. And I began to resent her. She resented me.

I doubt that night when she left with her mother that she told her mom anything. But for some reason I never did see Kelsey again. It made me sad. But in a weird way at the time. Days later my mom had just got off the phone and stormed into the living room. She screamed at me and shook a fist in my face.

Kelsey had told her mother everything.

My mother cussed me out something fierce. Threatened me. Made me terrified to even talk to girls anymore. Maybe that was why I never did approach Mayra. I was scared my mom would find out or that I would do something wrong and she would tell on me.

So I was on the wagon. I had had my first female encounter, but mom made sure I was scared of girls. Then one day we were at a different friend of moms house. She had a daughter that was two years younger then me. I was maybe nine or ten.

This may sound cliché and I don't know where this originated or how I knew what to say. But I asked this little blonde girl in the pink dress if she wanted to play doctor. I will spare you all the details. But she said yes.

I figured my mom bringing me to this place where there was another girl was her way of letting me off the leash. Let's just say the blonde never said a word and seemed to enjoy our time together. I mean, I don't know what she talks to her therapist about, but I assume that has to come up.

All those events were a mere prologue to a deviant and perverted life. Since then I have been in love with the idea of being in love. When a girl allows me to sleep with her and I have feelings or an interest in her, I sometimes have the tendency to get possessive.

I think that's what happened when Lorrie Lovitt and me were about to get physical. Sure, Maria had drained me, but it was Lorrie. She was the one I really wanted. I think my dick was scared of getting attached to Lorrie's veejay. Not literally but emotionally.

Lorrie would have to wait because I had a very unhappy and unmedicated Russian mob boss in my apartment...

My buzz was wearing thin. I was standing in the living of my apartment. A large Russian mob boss named Boris Spotnik sat on my sofa. He seemed to be making himself at home. His four larger henchmen stood off to the side. They were scary looking mothers.

"Okay. You tell me last time you see, Elsa." Boris said. I could see the insanity behind his eyes and the pure coldness. This guy had hurt and killed a lot of people, some even women and children. It was all there in his eyes. No disguise or poncho.

"Uh, well," I said, trying to buy time. The last thing I wanted to tell him was the last time I had seen Elsa Spotnik she was floating dead in a swimming pool. In a swimming pool at the party/Rager that I threw. "I had seen her at the party, she was just mingling."

"Mingling? What is that?"

"Networking. Talking." Sweat was forming on my brow.

"I see." Boris thought on this for a moment.

"I need a drink." I said. Two of the four henchmen rushed a few steps forward. "Take it easy guys, I'm on your side."

Boris said something to them in Russian and they relaxed.

"Go make drink." Boris said. "Bring me one."

"I only have bourbon and Mountain Dew Pitch Black, maybe Yager."

"Ugh. I don't care. Any one is good. Just alcohol." He said.

I went into the kitchen, took a can of Dew Black out of the fridge, found a bottle of Jack Daniels and half a bottle of Yager. The choice was going to be complex.

Do I make a Yager with Dew Black(which tastes like angel tears)? Or do I bring Boris the Yager straight up and mix the Dew Black with the Jack(which would taste less good)? Or do I just bring him a glass of Jack?

"Dude. Give him the Yager." Said the voice of Dick. He was standing beside me, still dead. Bleeding from his throat and stomach.

"How the hell do I know if Russians like Yager?" I whispered to my invisible best friend.

"Yager is German, right?"

"Yeh, so?"

"Aren't they like close or something? Like really close?" Dick said.

"I failed geography." I said. Footsteps approached from behind.

"WHO the FUCK are YOU talking TOO?" Boris asked. Two henchmen stood behind him.

"I was singing. A song." I said.

"What soda is that? It is strange." Boris said, fascinated.

"It's Limited Edition Mountain Dew Pitch Black. It goes great with Yager." I said. I was sweating again.

"Hmphf! Pour me one. I tell if this is good." He said. I cracked the last can of Dew Black, grabbed my favorite cup(a green Scooby Doo cup), iced the Yager then added the Dew Black. The smell made me salivate.

I handed Boris the plastic cup. He sniffed it. Scoffed at the smell. Then, carefully, took a small sip. He stared at me with what I deduced was anger. Then he smiled like Satan.

"BKYCHO!" Boris exclaimed. Then he drained the glass. "Quite delicious! MORE!"

I poured him more and sipped off the bottle of Jack. We sat on sofa. He sent his guys away. I drank fast.

Boris said, "Listen to me. I followed you from party. I know you saw Elsa, she is quite hard to miss, my friend. I know you know where Cloud Nine Tablets are."

"I actually don't-"

"Listen! You know this Tommy, my men saw you with him all night, he is too old to be a school chum or something like it." Boris sipped more of his drink. "Who is he?"

"I don't know. I met him at the party." I lied. I was not about to tell this psycho that Tommy was my Uncle.

"Fine. He sold Cloud Nine tablets. Elsa got him in on deal. This man has a lot of money worth of Cloud Nine. If you know who the man is, you must tell me." Boris smiled, his smile melted my insides. He was a scary fucking cat.

"I don't know him." I said. Boris stared at me like he was going to cut my throat and in that moment I thought he might.

"Listen. You know more than you say. Maybe you in on deal too? Maybe no? Now that does not matter. I consider the missing Cloud Nine tablets your payment. You find my Elsa, you bring her back here, we leave, you keep tablets." He paused to take a drink. "You don't find Elsa. You don't help. I don't care about tablets and I kill you. Slowly. Painfully." He smiled and finished his drink. "Clear?" He said.

"Yes. Very clear." I said.

"Good. You have twenty-four hours." He said. I looked at the clock, it was 3:12am. "I must know this. Who is Murrey Weinstein?"

"He owns the house the party was at." I said.

"Is he friend of you?"

"No, I haven't seen him ever. I just knew the name because the guy at the party told me." I said.

"Hope you are telling truth." Boris said.

"Can I take a nap before I go out to find Elsa?" I asked. Boris laughed.

"We both need rest. Couch looks good. I take bed and bedroom."

That night I slept on the couch and realized I was going to need some resemblance of a plan. I thought of Lorrie Lovitt, I hoped she was not completely hating me. I had managed to get throat deep in shit, there was no sign that this dilemma was going to get worked out.

"Dude, Elsa Spotnik is dead." Dick said. He was sitting cross legged on the floor.

"I know, but I have to do something."

"Dude, you can't bring her back." Dick said. And the wheels in my head started spinning. Crazy parts of insane plans began to form. Then I drifted off into an awesome slumber. Lorrie Lovitt danced in my head.

The next day I awoke to the sound of laughter. Joyous laughter. The kind that awakes a heavy sleeper like me. The laughter belonged to Boris Spotnik. It was coming from the bathroom.

I got up and put on a pot of boiling water for instant coffee. The laughter continued. I couldn't help it anymore. I went to take a look.

The bathroom door was open. Boris Spotnik was in a bubble bath, two henchmen were at his side. One scrubbed his back, the other scrubbed the bottom of his feet with my electric toothbrush. Boris laughed from the tickling.

I left them to it. I rinsed my mouth out with coffee. Then had a whole cup of coffee with cream and sugar. Boris came out of the bathroom and was finally ready to let me use the can.

"Morning, Comrade." Boris said, jovially.

"Yeh." I said.

I finished up in the bathroom, avoiding the tooth brush. Got dressed for a day of finding a dead girl. It was simple because Elsa was dead. There needed to be a plan. And I had one.

I made a cup of instant coffee. Boris sat on my sofa, his two favorite henchmen at his side. The other two were gone, I assumed they were just extra muscle.

"What do you do around here all day?" Boris asked me. I sipped the coffee gingerly, acid rolled in my stomach.

"There's an Xbox right there. A collection of DVD's. I have cable and On Demand." I said. Boris stared at me with his stare.

"I never watch TV. I did not ever allow, Elsa to watch or play video game. Is American garbage."

"Maybe that's why she ran off." I said, irritated, before I had a chance to catch myself.

"What?" Boris said, then stood up. He rushed toward me, henchmen in tow. He stopped right in front of me, face to face. "Say again?" He said.

"I'm just saying, maybe, she was too sheltered as a kid?" I said, sweating.

"Why are American's always sweating?" He said. Then with a right open palm Boris slapped me like a bitch. My jerked and instantly began to throb. His hand was like a boxing gloved full of bricks. "Don't say shit about my Elsa, never."

"My bad." I said, rubbing my head.

"You have until noon tomorrow to bring me Elsa, or I kill you." Boris reminded.

"I'm going." I grabbed the keys to my uncle's Mustang, left the apartment.

In the small house behind a rather large two story house, I sat in an easy chair. The small house was built more tall then wide. The reason was so it could house a very large TV. The house had a soda machine. A snack machine. Bunk beds in the corner. One bathroom. Three easy chairs.

Two of the easy chairs were occupied by Jack and Jeff Davis. They played Contra on Nintendo. They both wore plain black t-shirts, torn blue jeans, faded Converse All Stars. Both wore their long jet black hair in pony tails.

Without looking away from the game, Jack spoke, "How can will help you Mr. Sawyer?"

Jeff Said, "Yes, Mr. Tuck, how will we help you?"

"You guy's are good with computers. I need you to find me a woman." I said. The two brothers laughed hysterically and even dropped their controllers, but not before pausing the game.

"Mr. Sawyer, We laugh at you!" Jack said, still laughing.

"Laugh at you is what we do, Mr. Tuck!" Jeff said, his eyes in tears. I leaned forward in my seat.

"What the fuck is so funny?" I asked, still pissed from Boris smacking me.

"Mr. Sawyer, there is no disrespect behind our laughter, I assure you. There are many woman on the internet, but none you can touch." Jack said.

"None will let you touch, Mr. Tuck." Jeff said.

"Listen, guys, this is a serious situation and I have money." I said, low and serious. They broke into laughter yet again.

"We all have money Mr. Sawyer. What you are referring to is illegal activity know as prostitution." Jack said.

"Prostitution is illegal, Mr. Tuck." Jeff said.

"I need you to help me research a person, well, a woman." I said, ignoring their comments.

"Who might this person be Mr. Sawyer?" Jack said.

"Who is she Mr. Tuck?" Jeff said.

"Elsa Spotnik." I said. The brothers looked confused, then worried, then they broke into laughter.

"You came here Mr. Sawyer to mock us or possibly entertain us through comedy?" Jack said.

"You must do this more Mr. Tuck." Jeff said.

"What?"

"Elsa Spotnik Mr. Sawyer? Bad girl daughter of Russian mob boss Boris Spotnik? You want to research her?" Jeff said.

"You want to research Youtube bad girl Elsa Spotnik, Mr. Tuck?"

"What the fuck? You guys know who she was?" I asked.

"She is only Russia's answer to Paris Hilton, Mr. Sawyer. What more do you need to know?" Jack said.

"Russia's Paris, indeed, Mr. Tuck." Jeff said.

Now that I knew that, my plan seemed feasible. I was coming together nicely. But the brothers needed convincing.

"Check it out. Elsa Spotnik is dead. She died in a pool at a party I threw. She OD'd on a drug called Cloud Nine sold by her father, Boris Spotnik. He is currently residing at my apartment and he has given me twenty-four hours to bring him Elsa." I said, exhausted. "He thinks and wants Elsa to be alive."

"Wow. This dilemma is intense." Jack said.

"Your dilemma is intense." Jeff said.

Now they both seemed scared and they staggered around their equipment. At some point Jack had a keyboard in his lap and he brought up Google searches. The big screen TV was now our computer screen.

"We don't have time guys, but we need a woman now." I said serious.

"How will yet another woman help this situation, Mr. Sawyer?" Jack said.

"Another woman will not help, Mr. Tuck." Jeff said. I looked at the two brothers. I probably looked insane.

"I need to find a girl on the internet that is for hire. A girl that is maybe an ex-actress. I need her to have a strong resemblance to Elsa Spotnik. Is it clear to YOU both? DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?! I'LL FUCKING PAY YOU!" I looked at the time on my BlackBerry and sighed. "We have nineteen hours to find a woman and turn her into Elsa Spotnik."

I fell into the comfy easy chair and nodded off despite the stress of the situation...

I'm driving down the highway on my way to an potential clients house. She'd called and gave me her address in regards to a murder to investigate. I'm a Private Investigator. The best in the business. Fat paid. Known for my accuracy.

I arrive at the dames place. She answers the door and asks me to have a seat. I do just that.

"What is this case about?" I ask. The girls prepares drinks at the built in bar, complete with stools.

"What kind of drink do you like? Detective?" She said.

"Seven and Seven on the rocks." I say.

She joins me on the couch. Hands me my drink. I don't take a drink of it just yet.

"So what happened? How can I be of service?" I say. The dame starts up in tears. She cries and says her sister was poisoned. Due to jealousy. The dame was more popular. The sister, my client, was the geek of the bunch.

So it didn't make sense for the geek to remain and the popular one to parish at the hands of poison. But for some reason as I took a sip of the drink she made me, something about it seems funny in the taste...

"MR. SAWYER! WAKE NOW!" Came the voice of Jack. I shot up out of the chair, drool on my chin. Confused.

"What the fuck?!" I shouted.

"You paid us to research Elsa Spotnik and find a replacement, Mr. Sawyer." Jack said.

"We found a replacement, Mr. Tuck." Said Jeff. Reality slowly came back to me.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"According to our reply she is on her way." Jack said.

"On her way is she." Said Jeff.

"Good. Where did you find her?" I asked.

"Craigslist dot com. That is where Mr. Sawyer. We posted an ad." Said Jack.

"An ad we posted via Craigslist." Said Jeff.

"Can I see footage of Elsa Spotnik so I know what decision to make?" I said. The next half hour was full of Youtube video footage of the real Elsa Spotnik running a muck in clubs and bars. Showing her clam and nip slips. It seemed sad knowing she was dead and not coming back. I felt bad for Boris. His only daughter.

After an hour of Elsa Spotnik footage, via Youtube. I anxiously awaited the arrival of the look-a-like replacement. This would work. Nothing could screw this up.

Then the door to their small house was being knocked on. The girl at the door resembled her so much. But she wore a torn Operation Ivy t-shirt, tattoos, and fish net stockings.  
I wanted to cry.

Her name was Cameron Clay. She was an Elsa Spotnik impersonator. I figured she was there for acceptance. To be the next big thing. She was going to need work.

But after she changed into her Elsa clothes and worked on the accent, my stress went away. She glowed and I believed she was it.

"What are your goals as an actress?" I asked.

"To be Elsa Spotnik." She replied.

"How do you plan on doing that?" I asked.

"To take her place." Cameron said.

"O.K. She'll do just fine." I said to Jack and Jeff. Her make-up, demeanor was perfect.

I entered my apartment with Cameron Clay/Elsa Spotnik in tow. Boris and his henchmen stood up. Me and Cameron/Elsa stepped inside. Boris scoffed and sat down. I shut the front door behind me. Cameron/Elsa entered.

"I'm back." I said.

"Hey, daddy!" Cameron said running to Boris. He put his head down, as if knowing some secret. She hugged him. He hugged her and squeezed her. I was proud of the family connection. Boris had bought it. Life was good.

Then, he looked at me funny. He asked the daughter, Cameron Clay, to let him know.

"What happen?" He asked.

"Nothing. I want to leave, so I did." Said Cameron Clay, in a very good Russian accent.

"You are not yourself." Boris said.

"You can't control me forever." Cameron said.

"True. You can't control her forever." I said.

"Where is my little girl?" Boris asked, pissed, he pushed Cameron aside, he placed a gun to my forehead.

"Daddy, it's me. I am your Elsa. I am sorry I refuse to speak your language of Russia, but I am Americanized now." Elsa/Cameron said.

I looked at Boris and even though he had a gun to my head, he had a tear in his cold eyes. He wiped it fast and pulled back the hammer on the gun.

"I did the best I could, Boris." I said.

"Maybe yes, maybe no..."

"I'm sorry, Boris, really." I said. Boris looked me in the eye and it was clear what I was sorry about.

Boris pulled the trigger, but it clicked on an empty chamber.

"You did good, comrade." He smiled that eerie grin. "Come now, Elsa, time to re-learn the ways of Russia, again." Boris said.

I smiled at the girl named Cameron Clay, the Hollywood native with plans to be an actress, she had just gotten the role of her life. Daughter to Russian Mob Boss. With chances to screw up.

The next day Lorrie Lovitt rang my bell. The door bell, that is. It was 3am. I had a slight buzz. I was watching season one of Breaking Bad. The initial sound startled me. I answered the door, startled.

Lorrie Lovitt stood in the doorway in yellow Beatles Pj's. Yellow Submarine. Pants and top. Her slender frame hugged tightly. She stared at me. My soul burned.

"What are you doing?" Lorrie asked.

"Watching Breaking Bad." I said. "Come in." I said.

Lorrie came in and sat on the sofa next to me. I joined her and continued the show. Within five minutes Lorrie Lovitt had her mouth on my penis. She did her thing very well. But when it was done and we were cuddling, I felt she was mine. Then I was erect again and this time I was on top of her. We kissed and squeezed each other. I let loose all the passion I had held back.

The next day, we were physically exhausted. We slept the day away. Me and her being relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Lorrie Lovitt was mine forever and could never talk to anyone again. Only me. That was legitimate, right?

Stay Tuned for Volume 2 COMING SOON!

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