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HEY YOU! YOU OVER THERE WITH THE STARBUCKS CUP AND THE PAUNCHY BELLY! COME HELP ME! YES, YOU IN THE OLD NAVY SWEATSHIRT, I AM TALKING TO YOU!

DON’T JUST STAND THERE AND STARE! I AM DYING UP HERE! GET HELP!

THIS ISN’T A JOKE! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF, STANDING IDLY BY WHEN OTHERS NEED HELP? GET BACK INTO THAT RENTAL CAR AND DRIVE INTO TOWN AND SEE IF THERE IS A DOCTOR.

Okay, that’s good. Yes. Yes. Put down that camera and grab your phone. That’s right, call someone who can help. I don’t have much more to go. I can feel time slipping away from me. The end is near…

NO, NO, DO NOT TAKE MORE PICTURES! CUT THAT OUT! USE THAT PHONE FOR SOMETHING HELPFUL. CALL SOMEONE! MAYBE 911! MY LIFE HANGS IN THE BALANCE. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW INSENSITIVE THIS IS? I AM GRAVELY ILL AND THIS IS NO TIME FOR INSTAGRAM.

And if I may just add one thing—if you won’t call 911—that photo will come out much better if you turn your phone to landscape. TRUST ME, I’VE SEEN HUNDREDS OF IDIOTS LIKE YOU.

SIR, DON’T TURN AWAY. I KNOW YOU CAN SEE ME, DON’T PRETEND THAT WE WEREN’T MAKING EYE CONTACT A MINUTE AGO. IF YOU AREN’T THE HERO TYPE, ASK THAT FAMILY OF FOUR GETTING OUT OF THE CAR BEHIND YOU. THOSE KIDS DON’T WANT TO BE HERE ANYWAYS. SENDING THEM BACK TO TOWN WOULD BE A BLESSING FOR THEM AND ME. DAYENU, THAT WOULD BE ENOUGH. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE.

WHAT DO YOU NEED TO HEAR FROM ME? DO YOU WANT TO KNOW I HAVE KIDS ON THE WAY, AND THAT I WON’T GET TO SEE THEM? DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THAT MY PARENTS DIED A YEAR AGO THIS MONTH? I WANT TO MAKE IT LONGER THAN THEY DID! I HAVE ASPIRATIONS!

Okay, so maybe that was a little extreme.

Maybe today is not the day I die. Maybe I have another week or two, but you must know I am on the verge of falling apart, and I will die and it is not too late to save me. You can be the change you wish to see in the world. It starts with just one person or whateverthefuck Ghandi said.

I didn’t want to say it, but you sir are an ASSHOLE! COMING OUT HERE TO WATCH MY FRIENDS AND ME SLOWLY WITHER AWAY AND DIE. YOU CIDER-SIPPING, TRI-STATE LIVING, BUCKET-LIST CHECKING TOURISTS ARE ALL THE SAME! BET YOU CAN’T WAIT TO BRAG TO THE OTHER PARENTS AT THE PTA MEETINGS THAT YOU NAILED YOUR TRIP TIMING WITH PEAK FOLIAGE. DON’T YOU SEE THAT THESE COLORS AREN’T FREE? SOMEONE HAS TO PAY THE PRICE.

I GUESS IT’S MY FAULT THAT MY EVENTUAL FADE TO DEATH IS MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN YOUR EVENTUAL HUMAN DECAY. JUST ONCE I’D LOVE TO WATCH ONE OF YOU GO FROM YOUR NATURAL COLOR TO BRIGHT YELLOW, AND THEN RED. I’D LOVE TO BE STANDING THERE, TAKING PICTURES AS YOU FELL TO THE GROUND IN A HEAP.

Josh Bard

Josh Bard is a guy. A sports guy, an ideas guy, a wise guy, a funny guy, a Boston guy, and sometimes THAT guy. Never been a Guy Fieri guy, though.

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