It must be done… everyday it must be done. I’m telling you if I don’t do it bad things will happen. I don’t know exactly what type of terrible misfortunes will occur, but do I really want to find out? To spare a bewildering story, I should probably fill you in on the particular task. I must cross at least two bridges every day. But thats not all, there is a specific set of rules to make sure my daily mission is done in an organized fashion.

First, it is necessary to cross a minimum of two bridges. Crossing the two bridges eliminates the chance of terrible misfortune but does not do much else, however the greater the bridges I cross the greater the more my luck increases. Secondly, the bridges are tallied in a specific way. Any raised pathway which crosses a body of water counts as a bridge, it must be water or it doesn’t count. This can include anything from a small walkway crossing a stream, to a gargantuan suspension bridge connecting continents. If its a bridge it counts, however some bridges are worth more. While all minor bridges count as one bridge, large bridges such as the Mount Hope or Bragga count as one and a half bridges, and famous bridges such as the Newport and Brooklyn count as two bridges on the bridge tally. Lastly, it doesn’t matter if the bridge is crossed by foot, automobile, horse and buggy, or walrus as long as long as a bridge is crossed it counts towards the bridge tally. Now that you are filled in, I shall proceeded with the story.

It was a Thursday evening, and I was on my way home from my gardening job. It was truly a relaxing evening. The air was comfortably warm, almost like a quilt on a winter night, and pink clouds danced across the cotton candy colored sky. I was gently cruising along the highway, the wind cleansed my body beaten from a hard days of work, music from centuries ago flowed through my car, and I slowly sipped a glass of white wine. The exit by my house was a few miles back, but I wanted to cross at least one more bridge before I called it a day. I was at seven bridges at the moment, and I wanted to fit in an eighth; a number I have not achieved in months.

As I was zooming down society’s arteries a clot appeared. A clot it was indeed. There was traffic spewing off the roadways, I slammed on the breaks and came to a dead stop. And a stop it was, it must have been ten minutes and the traffic did not move an inch. To add to the aggravation I was only a mile away from the bridge. I hung onto my steering wheel furiously hoping for a clearing in the traffic. That clearing never came – there must have been a serious accident on the bridge. A half-hour passed since I reached the outer crust of the traffic and I was still trapped in the same spot. Luckily I was in the right lane; I made a break for the breakdown lane, and weary of the fuzz, I cautiously proceeded to the next exit.

Since I crossed an excessive amount of bridges that day luck was on my side, the next exit was half a mile away, and I made it unscratched. I briefly considered heading home, it was getting late, I was in the mood for a peanut butter and jelly, and I was going to have to wake up at 7am the next morning to plant some roses in the backyard of a man crustier then day old pizza. However, I could not give up. I was a bridge away from outstanding so I proceeded on.

Fantasies of good fortune flashed through my mind as I zipped through the tree-infested roadways. Everything seemed to be turning in my direction up to that point, and the eighth bridge was really going to turn the pendulum of luck in my position… I just knew it. There was a small bridge crossing an insignificant river a few miles away. I have been in that area before, and it’s quite nice during the day. Large willows and maples canopy the roads and ferns litter the ground, it is truly a picturesque drive. The clouds of fantasies once again covered my mind. I imagined myself acquiring a huge sum of money and purchasing a small colonial house perched atop a glacial rock overlooking the Atlantic. I could almost smell the oceans cool mist, and hear the gentle crashing of waves. In the midst of my fantasy, a deer flashed before my eyes. I slammed ion my breaks with the force of a thousand suns, but it was too little too late. My car slammed into the deer, ripping the fragile creature apart. I ran out of the door attempting to rescue the creature, but it was hopeless. He was about as dead as John F. Kennedy in 1964.

I was in the deep. Killing this creature diminished the fortune of luck I worked all day to acquire. My own carelessness took the conciseness away from an innocent creature, sending him into the dark unknown. I was engulfed in a fit of rage. As I cursed the skies, solutions to fix my dilemma soared through my mind. After a few moments of contemplation, I came to the solution. I was going to give the deer a proper burial, hopefully this would restore my fortune and make it up to the forest. I decided to venture in the woods, and to bury the deer along the shores of a small body of water. I figured the deer enjoyed drinking holes, and would appreciate being laid to rest next to one. I lifted my wheelbarrow from the turn of my car, and loaded the deer’s disheveled carcass into its drum.

I proceeded into the woods. Dragging the hefty wheelbarrow through the thickets was no easy task. Prickers and twigs shot through my limbs as I dragged that damn wheelbarrow across the rugged forest floor. I was walking for what seemed like eternity, no body of water what so ever was in view, I could feel the ticks crawling up my legs sucking my veins dry. I could feel the lyme disease conjuring in my blood, I was growing weary. The deer’s body was weighing more and more with each passing minute. Yet, I had to continue on, I had to turn my luck around.

Suddenly a small rock made its way under my feet, and I fell to the ground. My face slammed into the forest floor with immense force and all went black. I remember little after that. I somehow made it out of the forest despite suffering from a serious concussion. I had to take an extended leave from work resulting in my termination. I blew through the little savings I had, and ended up getting a minimum wage job at a restaurant. My luck really took a turn for the worst... Maybe I shouldn’t have been so greedy. Maybe I should have left it at seven.