The Average Person wondered about my list of things I still wanted to do before death. I was assisted in answering her question by my personal assistant Ken, who took time from his busy schedule of not having a girlfriend.
Dear Good Greatsby,
Having had a lucky escape, I decided to write a bucket List. And I was wondering what would be on your bucket list?
The Average Person
Dear Average Person,
Paul: Some people like the idea of living their lives like they might die tomorrow. I try and live my life like I might be arrested tomorrow. Before I go to bed each night, I dust my house for fingerprints, and I swallow an entire pack of cigarettes so they’ll be available to me the next day in prison since cigarettes are like currency. I don’t smoke, but the pack of cigarettes will come in handy to trade for some contraband Pepto-Bismol to relieve the symptoms of eating a pack of cigarettes.
Rather than thinking of things I want to accomplish before death, I think more about what people will say about me after I’m gone. After I’m dead, I sure hope when people talk about me, they’ll say, “Can you believe how much change they found in that guy’s stomach? Must have been $15.00 in there.”
As readers may have gathered from my smoking jacket, I’ve already accomplished a great deal in life, but there are still a few things I’d like to accomplish:
I want to cost the Boston Red Sox the World Series by allowing an easy grounder to roll through my legs.
I want to be adopted by Angelina Jolie.
I want to be kicked in the face during a karate tournament by a pluckish teen I’d been bullying.
I want to be sexually harassed by Herman Cain.
I want to take one of those private two hour flights into space, fall asleep immediately upon takeoff, and when we return to earth ask the other passengers, “What did I miss?”
I want to enter a talent contest in hopes of winning a cash prize to save a break-dance studio for disadvantaged youth, and my wife will say I can’t do it, and when I’m first on stage my voice will be really weak and I’ll sing poorly, but suddenly a beautiful voice is heard from the back of the audience and everyone turns to look and it’s my wife, and she starts to walk towards the stage and as we sing together my voice becomes stronger, and then suddenly an even more beautiful voice is heard from the back of the audience and everyone turns to look and it’s Zooey Deschanel, and she walks right past my wife and Zooey and I sing the most beautiful duet together and win the talent contest.
By the way, congratulations on your lucky escape! Multiple times today I had the good luck of avoiding danger completing and not even requiring a lucky escape, which I guess kind of trumps your luck, but who’s counting? Except for me when I counted just then.
Ken: Every day of my employment with Paul I’ve thought about a bucket list. Not my bucket list, but his. I’m not saying I’m rooting for something to happen to Paul, but I’m not not saying that either. I assume Paul set unrealistic bucket list goals as a superstitious way of warding off death and that’s why I’ve encouraged him to set more realistic goals because there’s a superstitious part of me that thinks if I can get him to do everything on the list, something might actually happen to Paul. I wrote the following bucket list on a Post-It and stuck it to his computer:
Answer one phone call from his mother without handing me the phone and begging, “Please, please, please pretend you’re me.”
Give money to beggars instead of taking it.
Stop eating change.
Submit your questions on the Dear Good Greatsby page.