Read Online 10 Things to Do Before I Die by Daniel Ehrenhaft - Free Book Online Page A

other than What’s usually Wrong With it. I’m never this open or honest or analytical. Whatever. I can’t afford to think too hard about that kind of BS right now. The clock is ticking.
    “I mean, Why do you think I ran to get this?” I continue, just to fill the silence. I Wave the napkin in front of them. “I have to make the most of What little time I have left! I have to live it up!”
    “I know you do, Burger!” Mark yells at me. “That’s Why you need to get off your ass and come With us and stop being such a moron!”
    I scowl and lean back in the sofa, exhausted for some reason. The vertigo isn’t so bad now. Neither is the tinnitus. Maybe anger mutes the poison. But I’m angry because I realize that I shouldn’t be angry at all. Mark and I aren’t arguing; We’re agreeing. He’s right. We both are. I need to get off my ass and stop being a moron.
    “Mark, I’m sorry,” I apologize forcefully. “But We’re gonna finish this list. You told me I had to. Remember? You even told me I should live the next twenty-four hours like they Were my last because my parents are away. Well, now they are my last.”
    “Burger, that Was a joke,” he breathes.
    “I know. And that’s the Whole point. It’s time to make this joke as funny and as cool and awesome and meaningful as We possibly can. So let’s figure out ten things for me to do, and then let me start doing them.”

Down to Business
    Mark responds by kneeling in front of my parents’ liquor cabinet.
    “What are you doing?” I ask.
    “I’m going to get drunk,” he states very matter-of-factly. “If you aren’t going to the hospital, then you leave me no choice. And you’re gonna get drunk, too.”
    “I am?”
    “Yeah. We all are. It’ll help us think.” He leans forward and peers closely at the mahogany door. It’s got an old-fashioned brass lock. For a moment he hesitates. Then he makes a fist and punches the lock, knuckles first: Smack! The door gently swings open, Without so much as a creak.
    Mark turns and beams at me.
    I have to smile back. Mark may be an impulsive maniac, but he’s got flair.
    “Now, let’s see …”
    He reaches in and grabs a bottle of foul-looking liquid. It’s roughly the same color as gasoline. Judging from the classy font on its label, though, it must be expensive. I lean forward and squint at the lettering. Glenmorangie? Never heard of it. Mark stands up straight. He Waves the stuff in front of all of us, swishing it around like a magician about to perform a signature trick. Then, in a single deft maneuver, he yanks out the cork cap—thwok!—and shoves the bottle against his lips, tilting it up and chugging furiously. Glug glug glug … he sputters. His face shrivels like a popped balloon. Brown liquid drips to the floor. He looks as if he’s just been forced to ingest sewer sludge. Yet somehow he musters a demented grin.
    “Yeah!” he chokes out. “This stuff rocks!”
    I glance at Nikki. She shrugs.
    “I’ve had scotch before,” she says nonchalantly. “It’s better With ice.”
    Mark thrusts it into my hands. “It’s fine Without ice, though,” he croaks, his voice hoarse. “Just take a pull, Burger. Right now.”
    “I …” I turn to Nikki again. Her saucer eyes are moist. She looks as if she’s about to cry. I can tell that this is a decision I’ll have to make on my own. (I hate that kind of decision.) My gaze falls to the heavy bottle. I catch a Whiff of What’s inside. Jesus—my parents actually pay for this crap?
    “Come on, Burger,” Mark Whispers. He claps me on the shoulder. “Get down to business. Do this. It’ll help me out. I mean it.”
    I can’t argue. Clearly Mark does need help. Why is his reaction to this Whole poisoning thing so much more out of control than mine? But I suppose I shouldn’t think too hard about that. Screw it. I should just take a pull. It’s not as if it’ll endanger my health. I don’t have any health anymore.
    I upend the bottle,