“All the smoking and drinking I’ve done, I’m probably gonna die pretty soon. I should probably have a bucket list. Maybe I could write one, and post it on The Strangelands.”
“Hey, that’s a good idea. What kinds of things do you want to do before you die?”
“Well, I’ve never killed a man. Does that count?”
“Or the long pig. You know—human meat? It sounds gross, but don’t tell me you aren’t a little curious. I’d like to try that before I die.”
Because I’m a guy: threesome. Because I’m me, it’d go like this: two women, me, and we’re in the audience at a Hanna Montana concert, making love to a chorus of children’s awkward questions.
Dress up like Q-Bert and go roaming around an old folks home, asking where is the bathroom, and has anyone seen Timmy?
Throw a Molotov cocktail at a passing car.
Go to a high school to give an anti-drug lecture, and then tell them all about how when I was in high school, I got high all the time, had mad sex, and it was the greatest time of my life.
Direct a midget porn film.
Live the life of a train-ridin’ hobo, but without having to give all those cops blowjobs; also without the gangrene, failing liver, and lice.
Masturbate onto a great white shark that’s trying to eat me.
I have this cigar hanging out of my mouth, right? And I use it to light a stick of dynamite, and then I make some witty remark, and throw the dynamite into a cave full of vampires and save the world. Fuckin’ A.
Punch George W. Bush in the nuts. Not because I’m political, but because screw that guy.
Make a cartoon about my life that everybody thinks will be hilarious, but then they watch it, and they’re all, “That dude is messed up. What was up with that shotgun that had tits?”
Make enough money so that I’d be able to hire a guy to just make bacon. All the time. People would show up, I’d be like, “Thank you for coming. May I take your coat? Care for some bacon?” And if they said no, I’d throw them out, because you can’t trust anyone who doesn’t want some bacon. Unless they’re chewing gum, because gum is the only thing that doesn’t go good with bacon.
Invent a gum that goes good with bacon. No…that goes great with bacon.
Invent a time machine so I could go back and get in on that orgy Judy Garland had with all those midgets.
Steal a whole bunch of toys from Wal-Mart—like truckloads—and then dress up in some weird outfit and distribute them to poor children. Just to see if Wal-Mart is heartless enough to take the toys back.
That fat, smelly lady who always sits beside me on the airplane? Slap her on the face with my dick, just to see what she does. If she continues to talk about her son who just got married and moved to Dallas with the girl who seems nice, but is probably a back-stabber, jerk off into the fat lady’s eye.
Speaking of jerking off: finally fill up the rest of that ice cube tray with semen, to see if an ordinary freezer is enough to solidify my seed.
Crawl through an air duct muttering either, “A naked blond walks into a bar, with a poodle under one arm, and a two foot salami under the other. She lays the poodle on the table. Bartender says, ‘I suppose you won't be needing a drink,’” or “Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs…”
Steal that Pope ring that everybody’s always kissing, and sell it on EBay.
Cure cancer and distribute the cure, for free, to the needy. But don’t give any to the super-rich or the hippies, just to even the playing field. Plus, I don’t like rich people or hippies.
Make a law so that if you want to be famous, you have to fight to the death with any other celebrity to take their place. Just being a skank-ass ho isn’t enough, no matter how many drugs you do, or how many times I’ve seen your vagina in the newspaper.
Give a monkey super-powers.
Beat the shit out of Michael Jackson.
Lick the moon.
Sit down with Eddie Murphy and watch Beverly Hills Cop. Hold up a copy of whatever shitty movie he has done recently. Then, sit there and look at him and shake my head, until he cries.
Make some more midget porn, this time with all kinds of latex, and get the guy who did those “taste the rainbow” Skittles commercials to help. Find out if Judy Garland is dead or alive. Get her in the movie, either way.
After liposuction, do a bunch of steroids.
After liposuction and steroids, start lots of fights while wearing a pink dress with a hole cut out in the crotch, with my penis sticking out. And my penis will have a rose glued to it. I’ll be like a superhero.
All right, I know there’s more, but I’m tired. You want to, you can add your bucket list in the comments.