My Pick Up Artist System

1 day to live.

12:01:17

12:00:32

11:59:59

It was Ben's last morning on Earth and he got to spend it watching a timer count down…

'Yea, that's so nice, she added a large countdown in big bright numbers on every screen…how thoughtful.' He shook his head.

It was a hard day for him. Up to this point, he'd done all he could to clear his mission. Now, with so few hours left, there was no point struggling every second to open new girls in the middle of the day. With the experience he's gained, he knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. In fact, it would just tire him before his date with Miyuki. Ben knew pick up exhaustion was real, so he did the next best thing.

He decided to use the day to settle his affairs, making peace with the possibility, no…the likelihood, that he'd really die...

*Arf* *Arf*

A dog barked, snapping Ben out of his thoughts. He wasn't in his dorm room now, but in a dog shelter… Believing it was the right thing to do, he was here to donate the remainder of his money...all of it...

He glanced at the dog sitting on the examination table, a brown curly-haired mixed breed with lonely eyes. It was the type of mutt no one would adopt. 'It's been a while since I've patted a dog…'

Ben sighed. 'If I did this earlier, maybe the system wouldn't be killing me off for unpopularity...bringing in a new Doctor Who...'

Walking over to the pooch, Ben considered the possibilities. 'If one guy killed you, I could even go John Wick on the world; Start a murder spree...killing dozens of humans with my gun-fu...but people wouldn't bat an eye. I might even get an unbreakable plot body...'

Petting the dog on its head, he brushed its springy hair. "But you're too cute to use as a morality shield...I like your natural perm by the way; game knows game..."

*Arf*

Ben spread a helpless smile. "You're just like me, huh boy--" He cut himself off because he realized something. He leaned over and checked the dog for penile presence...

Nodding, he continued. "There's a real gender stereotype in fiction...When a new dog enters the scene, characters assume it's male... Even though the dog-barber hasn't given you any androgynous features to clue me in…I wouldn't want to be insensitive and mess up your pronouns..."

Then, Ben coughed and resumed the monodogue...

"You're just like me, huh boy? All the b*tches are giving it up to the Pitbulls and junkyard chads…"

*Arf*

"Meanwhile, here we are sitting all alone…playing with our chew toys…"

*Arf*

Ben spread a helpless smile. "I'd offer to make you my battle pet but I fear you'll live longer than me..."

*Arf* *Arf*

"Well, you don't have to rub it in…"

*Arf*

"That's quite an impressive vocabulary…"

"Mr. Romero?" An elderly woman in a gray sweater walked out of the staff office.

"Yes?"

"Is there something else I can help you with?"

Ben tilted his head. "Don't I need to fill out some tax-related forms or something?"

"…Normally yes, but I think you'll be fine, Sir."

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've donated 27 dollars and 36 cents, Sir…"

…

"I see…"

Ben gave a goodbye pat to the shaggy pooch. "I'm sure it's tough being a dog, but worry not, you'll get a humanoid form once your shtick gets old…"

*Arf*

Before leaving, Ben checked his canine friend's name tag. It read, "Chekhov's dog."

…

"Strange name. Did you belong to a Russian? Well, I'm sure he left you for a reason…"

***

Ben was back in his dorm room, sitting at his desk. Holding a pen, he was writing something, a doc.u.ment no 18 year old should have to create: "Last Will and Testament."

It wasn't a thing he ever thought he'd be writing anytime soon, but he had to face the facts. His story was approaching the endgame…and if Ben died today, he didn't believe there would be a convenient second part where he resurrected through the power of time travel paradoxes...

…

'In the first place, I don't have a friend who can invent a time machine in the space of the world's most convenient afternoon…

…

'On top of that, technology in the real world is too far behind; The pop-culture pseudo-science just isn't there yet…'

…

Soon, he finished his will. It wasn't a long doc.u.ment, but it still consisted of his few precious heirlooms. Although his stuff wasn't worth much, to the right person, it would be an otaku's treasure chest…

In the ways of the otaku, Ben still held some pride in his status as an ancestor… As such, he didn't want his legacy discovered by the next bastard protagonist to inherit this system and stumble on his bones…

'I wish I could leave my soul remnant in a vintage hentai manga take over the body of the next bastard to violate it...'

Instead, all of Ben's things would go to his family. "Speaking of it, I should give them a call." He picked up his cell.

*Ring* *Ring*

"Hello?" His mother answered.

"Mom, it's Ben."

"Oh! Benny! Dear, have you been eating well? Do you need anything? Is everything ok?"

Ben felt warmth in his chest…because he spilled hot coffee on it just now...

...

A short time later. "Sorry, mom. Everything's going great." Ben didn't want to worry his parents, even if it gave them only one more day of peace... He felt terrible over what they'd have to go through when he passed.

They chatted for a few minutes before his mother said, "Hold on, let me get your father."

Ben heard footsteps and voices, then his father picked up the phone. "Benjamin?"

"Hey, dad."

"It's good to hear from you, son. How's everything at school?"

"It's good…"

Then his father looked around to make sure his mother wasn't nearby. "Listen, son. I forgot to have this talk with you before you left for school, but the Jets season was coming up…You understand... Anyway, I wanted to make sure that while you're over there, you're doing the right things. So, tell me, are you using condoms?"

…

'Is he really trying to have "the talk" now?' Ben didn't respond.

"I can sense your hesitation over the phone son…Well, we can't change what's in the past. What's sprayed is sprayed…

I know over there you're going to parties, meeting girls. Sometimes, maybe you forget to bring a jimmie hat with you…It happens to the best of us. Well, for that situation, let me tell you about a little system I discovered when I was in college…I used it foolproof for decades until you were born. It's called the pull-out meth—"

"Dad! Put Lucas on the phone please!

…

"All-all right son. We'll continue this talk later."

A while later...

"Son, I've got Lucas here."

"Thanks, dad. Oh and…I just wanted to say...I love you…tell mom I said it for her as well."

"Sure thing, son. We love you too. I'll give the phone to your little brother now."

"Hello?" An adolescent spoke.

"Lucas, It's Ben…"

"Hey…"

"Hey…I know I never said this to you before…so I just wanted to let you know…that I love you…"

…

"Fag*ot..."

…

'He hung up...' Ben stared a few seconds at his cell phone.

Then, he walked over to his will, picked up his pen, finalized it, and signed. The last action was writing in the name of his cousin, Antonio. Under that, he crossed out a name—Lucas."