The parachute was still coming down, landing in a giant puddle on the razed cornfield behind me. A little part of my mind informed me that I would have to release the tether connecting it to my shoulders soon, or else the first errant gust would drag me across the field. And in my current state, that would not be enjoyable in the slightest.
But before I undid the harness, I unzipped a small pocket. From inside, I retrieved a yellowing sheet of paper, creased with innumerable fold lines. I carefully unfolded the sheet, smoothing it out against my bare thigh.
“#37, Skydive naked,” I read off as I clicked my pen. “Check.”
With the item crossed off of my bucket list, I finally shrugged out of the harness and let it fall to the ground. In the distance, I could already see the plume of dust rising up from the truck that was headed out to pick me up. It was too far away for me to see clearly, even with my Lasik-enhanced eyes (#22).
Even though it was still out of range, however, I could see my butler, Tompkins, stoically sitting behind the wheel, his face unruffled and unbothered by the bumps of the cornfield. He probably wasn’t even sweating in the tuxedo that he insisted upon wearing. I’d told him a dozen times that it wasn’t necessary, that I didn’t need for him to stick to all the traditions, but he had insisted.
In the end, I’d been forced to acquiesce. Get a butler (#18) had been on the list, after all.
A few minutes later, he pulled up alongside me, his eyes not lingering on my nakedness. To do so would have been most improper, I knew. “Your trousers, sir,” he greeted me, passing over a pair of jeans.
I climbed into the proffered clothing, wincing as the bare stalks bit into my feet. “Thanks, Tompkins,” I replied. “You’re a gem, you know that?”