I Kill Buckets For You

Calucci and Ashuton's Beautiful Painting of Life

Elegy: Calucci and Ashuton's Beautiful Painting of Life

This tells the story of one of Ashuton Karrucci’s brothers whom died of cancer. Ashuton narrates the story. Song to listen to when reading: Dead Island main theme (piano + violin song by Giles Lamb): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjWs-TkjaaQ .

An elegy is a sad poem, usually written for those whom have passed on.

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I sat beside you under our Cicada tree where the Owls screeched

You said, “what’s the point in life if death is our only end?”

I told you not to think that way.

I told you, “Calucci, I’ll give you the best day of your life.”

You tried to dismiss it, “It’s worthless. It won’t mean anything when I die. It’ll just be empty memories.”

I wanted to slap you for that!

“It won’t be empty memories! It will be memories of you that everyone will have!”

You were uneasy at my yelling, but you knew I was right.

I took you Jet Skiing at Cala Violina

I knew you’d love it there, it was your wish to see it

You were screaming, shouting, “get me off this thing!”

I couldn’t help but laugh

I drove through the winding forest path

and you were happily resting atop the car in your dragon form

I slammed down on the gas petal and drove off the cliff

Your expression was priceless—fear, pure fear—I won’t forget it

I jumped out, becoming a dragon, and caught the car before it hit the torrential waves of the sea

You wanted to go home, but I insisted we do more

I rode the bike down the mountain path

But didn’t enjoy sharing the seat with you

You wanted to get off, screaming like a newborn baby

I rode off another cliff to spike your adrenaline rush

Pack some “living” into your life

It was the perfect parody of E.T.

The shadow of the bike in the blinding sunset, above a full forest

And then we fell off, tumbling down the path

This was where immortality saved us, but it wouldn’t save you

I took you to Paris, you wouldn’t know my plan

You said, “this is too much. You’re very precious to me, little brother.”

That sounded a little weird, but I cherished those words

At the restaurant, she was waiting: the woman you were watching for several months

During your therapy, you wanted to meet her

During the grueling surgery, you idly thought of her

Here she is, on the bridge with a view of the Eiffel Tower and it’s wonderful bridge

I told her, “Calucci’s never had sex before,” and she giggled

Derau told me you cried

She told me you said, “I don’t want you to love me, I’m a dead man.”

She didn’t care, I knew she wouldn’t

Your last days here were meaningful

Under the Cicada tree, all three of us sat there

You told us—you told me—these words, “thank you for giving meaning to my life,”

And you closed your eyes on us

You transitioned from life to death

At your funeral, I placed an Amaryllis on your pale hands

The photo of you now hangs high in the gallery

I sit at the restaurant in Paris, thinking it over

I’ll never forget you, Calucci

Dragons can’t get cancer and they certainly don’t die from it. However, with Calucci it is a different story because he is half human and godly. For some odd reason, he was destined to die, a fate that immortal dragons often ask for.