10 Things to Do Before I Die by Daniel Ehrenhaft Page B

You better take this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the crumpled napkin. Since I saw it last, it’s been stained With brown drops (scotch?), and two more tasks have been added—bringing the list to ten:
    Start your own religion.
    Get something named after you (like a park or a fountain).
    “Uh … number nine might be a little tough,” I tell him.
    “Ah, you’ll figure something out. How hard can it be? This is America, dude!”
    I stuff the napkin into my own pocket, on top of Mrs. Rifkin’s check. “What does America have to do With starting a religion?”
    “People start their own religions all the time here, Burger!” he shouts. “Some of them blow up big, too. Look at the Mormons. The trick is to find a gimmick. Like a doughnut-shaped universe.”
    “Mark, how drunk are you right now?”
    “No, no, no: listen. This is important because you don’t have to Worry about dying. I got it all figured out. See, a lot of physicists theorize that the universe is shaped like a giant doughnut, right? And if We could look hard enough … I mean, if We had the power to see across all of time and all of space and everything that has ever happened or ever Will happen—We’d just end up looking around the entire doughnut and back at ourselves, at the back of our heads. Which makes sense, if you think about it. Because they say that God created us human beings in his image, you know? So if We could look at ourselves across all of eternity … in a Way We’d be looking at God. But We couldn’t see his face. We could only see the back of his head. Because you can never see the face of God, just like they say in the Bible. And you know What that really means? We never die. We’re all part of the great big circle, and We’re all part of eternity, and We’re all a reflection of God. We don’t disappear. We decompose and our atoms disperse and maybe We even become a part of something else—but We don’t die. Get it?”
    “Mark, you’re hysterical. Why don’t you just come With me?”
    “I’ll come in a second, okay?” He yanks me off the couch and escorts me into the foyer. The apartment spins around me. “Don’t Worry; I’ll clean up here. And I’ll get Joy out quick. I’ll see you up at the Onyx.” He hesitates for a second in front of the door. “Are We cool?”
    “Mark—”
    “Just get this list done for me, Burger,” he says. “And take care of Nikki. Because if you don’t, I’m gonna take you to the freaking hospital myself. Got it?”

Questions
    I don’t argue. I simply obey. Arguing is clearly bad. It’s not how I should be spending the last hours of my life, as Mark and Nikki have proved.
    Outside, Nikki has already hailed a taxi. She’s Waiting in the backseat, Wringing her hands. I slide in beside her and shut the door.
    “Brooks Avenue and 151st Street, the Bronx,” she tells the driver. “Take the Willis Avenue Bridge. Thanks.”
    The driver guns the accelerator. We screech down the street. My head slams against the vinyl cushions. My stomach does a quick somersault. Another reason Why I prefer mass transit to cabs: there’s less chance of an accident on a subway. A subway ride is very smooth. Not so much starting and stopping, and fatalities, and—
    Stop it. I refuse to think about death. I try to think about Shakes the Clown. I can’t, though. Now that I’m here, alone With Nikki, all I can think about is What’s going on there, back up in my apartment. I steal a few glances at her.
    “Nikki, can I ask you something?”
    “Sure,” she says.
    “Remember What you said earlier tonight? That I had to do something totally beyond the confines of morality? That I had to embrace the Dark Side? That I had to knock over a bank?”
    “Yes, Ted,” Nikki says dryly. “I Was hoping you could be our vault man.”
    “Seriously, listen. I’m just saying: When Mark ordered Joy for me, didn’t he embrace the Dark Side? Didn’t he lead by example? By taking cash out on