So, What Pick-Up Line Actually Works On You?

Chapter 1 - You're Funny, I'm Keeping You.

You Kick the Bucket and I'll Swing My Legs

Chapter 1 - You're Funny, I'm Keeping You.

Three months, I have three months left to live. Well, three months to live my life to the fullest. From then on I'm going to be too weak to do anything.  Hell, I'm not getting treatment for this, I have a fifty-fifty chance with the treatment, and it was expensive; too expensive.  So I've decided to go without and live for three months. But what to do in those three months? Who will I meet in those three months?

I glanced down at the open spiral notebook on my bedside table, before grabbing it and beginning to think.  On the top I scribbled in my messy scrawl, 'Anabelle's Bucket List'. Before I die, I have to do every single thing on here; I made a secret, silent promise to myself.  

I placed the pen on the virgin paper and just before I wrote number one, another laugh roll came from the television next door. It had been like that for the past hour, and it was starting to irk me. Now, that's one thing to put on my list, kill the bastard next door slowly and painfully. I shook my head, and continued to think. Again, just before I wrote, the annoying laugh roll rang out.

Hey, I could start another list, 'Things That Annoy Anabelle'. First on the list would be that stupid television next door and the second would be this crummy hospital I'm in. I was put in the children's ward, really now? I know I'm small but still! I bet there's an old lady half my size in the women's ward who should be put down here instead of me!

That ridiculous laugh roll burst into my thoughts again, and I snapped. It had been keeping me awake for the past hour. I bet it was just some idiotic nine year old watching some adult comedy that they didn't understand. I shifted out of my cot, and practically stormed out my room, a metre down the hallway and tugged open the door forcefully, fuming.

Bingo, there they were. He was sprawled out on his bed, all comfy with his television blaring out. It was some trashy sitcom, and just as I walked in the laugh roll rang out. The boy wasn't nine though; he looked about the same age as me, maybe a small bit older. His dark brown hair flopped over piercing hazel eyes sleepily. He raised his eyebrows at me, as if to say 'What are you doing in my room at two in the morning fuming and holding an empty bucket list?'

I just stared at him, eyes narrowed for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts. He seemed to recover quicker than me, "Can you pull this heart-shaped arrow out of my ass please? A damn kid with wings shot me." He smirked knowingly. I stood there, gaping; God that was a horrible line.

I straightened up and crossed my arms across my chest, "Turn your fucking television down, some people are trying to sleep!" I growled, waving my notebook around.

"You must be the reason for global warming because you're hot" His smirk grew as he spoke, and I had the urge to smack him on the back of his head with my notebook. My two hundred page hardcover notebook. Next, he leaned over, picked up the remote on his left and turned up the television, never looking away from me.

"Turn that down!" I shrieked, and he beamed at me.

"I miss my teddy bear. Would you sleep with me?" He quipped, patting on the space in the bed next to him. I snarled, and pointed at the television, agitated.

He stretched, "I'm glad the keyboard have you and I together already, otherwise I would have to rearrange it."

I stepped forward, and snatched the remote out of his relaxed grip and silenced the television before taking out the batteries and turning to leave, but I quickly spoke, "Shut up, I like the keyboard just the way it is too, A to Z represents the size of your dick brilliantly. If we changed it, it would be lying." I snapped, just as I slammed the door shut.