I run hospitals, not health spas.

Two beds to a room, no exceptions.

 

There was a survey once, 

A thousand people asked. 

If they could know in advance,

Would they want to know

The exact day of their death?

Who the hell is that?

 

Who the hell are you?

 

96 percent of them said, “No.”

 

Oh God, what am I, in the morgue?

 

That was the first time I laid eyes on Edward Cole.

 

I want my own room.

 

You run hospitals, not health spas.

Two beds to a room, no exceptions.

 

Damned if I’m gonna spend 

The next three weeks

Laying next to Zombie Boy.

 

My freshman philosophy professor 

Assigned this exercise

And called it a “bucket list.”

We were supposed to make a list

Of all the things we wanted to do 

In our lives before we 

 

KICKED THE BUCKET

 

Cutesy.

 

It’s pointless now.

 

We could do this.

We should do this.

 

Waaaaaaa!  This is livin’!

I hate your rotten guts!

 

Is he insane?

Depends.

 

You gonna drive it or buy it a dress?

 

Just gettin’ to know each other.

 

I don’t understand how you could run off with a total stranger!

 

I’ve got 45 years greased up under the hood of a car.

I think I’ve earned some time for myself.

 

You got kids?

I don’t see her.

It’s time.

 

Why are we, uh…

Oh my God.

 

What are you so afraid of?

 

Just because I told you my story,

Does not invite you to be part of it!

 

“Dear Edward,

There’s no way I can repay you

For all you’ve done for me.

So rather than trying, 

I’m just going to ask you to do

Something else for me.

Find the joy in your life.”

 

Do you hate me?

 

Not yet.

 

Hehehehe!

 

We live, we die.

The wheels on the bus 

Go round and round.

 

Proud of you.

 

Nobody cares what you think.

Answer key: This is both a work of poetic genius and the trailer from “The Bucket List.”