reached into one of pockets and pulled out a book of matches. Edward took another step towards Willie but in an instant Willie backed up and was now standing directly in front of Sunny's cage.
“Willie, what are you doing? Please, please stop already.” Edward had a feeling anything he said was useless. Willie was in no state of mind to listen to anyone, especially the one person he hated the most.
Willie gulped another mouthful of vodka and swished it back and forth in his mouth. He fumbled with one of the matches, striking it several times on the matchbook until it finally lit up. He lifted the match to his mouth and spit out the vodka. The stream of vodka turned into a shower of bluish-orange flame and spilled onto the floor. Willie stamped out the flaming puddle and shook his head back and forth, his mouth again turning into that crooked, crazy looking smile. “Wow, Shbucketsled, cool or what?”
Edward knew this was dangerous and Willie had to be stopped. He moved towards Willie but Willie somehow found enough strength and coordination to quickly kick one of his legs out. The kick landed hard on Edward’s left knee and Edward fell backwards towards the sink. He caught his balance and winced, not only at his now throbbing knee, but at his neck, which was now sending sharp stinging pains down his entire back.
An insane burping and gurgling laugh came from Willie when he saw Edward fall backwards. “Didn’t I already shhay don’t come near me? Now watch me do it again Shbucketshed!”
Willie drank another mouthful of vodka and lit another match. By now his back was touching the bars in front of Sunny’s cage and Sunny, who had been growling his low, mean growl the whole time, was able to nip at Willie’s shirt, startling Willie so much that he lurched forward. The vodka in his mouth flowed out and entirely drenched the front of his shirt. Willie tried to keep his balance by waving both arms wildly around. The bottle of vodka fell out of his hand and crashed against the floor. The lit match brushed up against Willie's shirt and with a scary sounding whoosh his shirt burst into a ball of orange flame.
Even though Willie tried to scream at the top of his lungs he was only able to manage a weak “Ahhhh… help me”. Frantically Willie slapped at the flames with his hands but the flame continued to burn his vodka soaked shirt. Willie fell to his knees and kept on beating his burning shirt with his hands, his eyes filling with panic when the fire just wouldn’t die down. One of the flames quickly arched upwards and singed the entire left side of Willie’s face before burning off a large clump of his hair.
The entire room started to fill up with a hazy whitish gray smoke. Half of the dogs were whimpering softly and the other half were barking as loud as they could. The smoke detector on the ceiling started to squeal it’s high pitched whine.
At first Edward froze, unable to move when he saw Willie’s shirt burst into flames. The shock wore off as soon as the terrible smell of Willie’s burning hair and skin reached his nose. He had to do something, and fast. He could feel the edge of the sink against his back. Of course. Water can put out a fire.
Without even turning around Edward leaned back as far as he could and positioned his buckethead underneath the faucet. He stretched out his left arm behind him and turned on the cold water. Water gushed into his buckethead. After about five seconds he threw his head forward. The water flew out and most of it landed on Willie, who by now was laying on his back, still trying to beat down the stubborn flames. The water helped put out the bottom half of Willie’s burning shirt, but the top half was still on fire.
Edward leaned back under the faucet again as far as possible, even though the stinging pain in his neck was as sharp as he had ever felt. Again he filled up his buckethead and threw the water onto the helpless Willie. This time the water landed directly on the top half of Willie’s burning shirt and with a sizzling sound the flames went out. A small cloud of puffy white smoke rose up and slowly floated up to the ceiling.
Even though what had just happened only took a few minutes, Edward felt like everything had moved in slow motion. He coughed a few times and realized he had been practically holding his breath the whole time. He leaned against the sink, exhausted, feeling like he had just run a marathon. Edward somehow found enough strength to let out a long, low, satisfying sigh. But the pain in his neck was now so intense it burned and ached like never before. He rubbed his neck gently, trying to ease the pain. He wondered how much strain all that filling up with water had put on his neck. All he wanted to do now was lay down and rest his buckethead, but he still had to take care of Willie.
Willie lay on the floor, moaning in a low voice. A swirling thin cloud of smoke drifted up from his blackened shirt. The dogs had stopped barking but the smoke detector still shrieked. Edward knelt by Willie’s side.
“Willie, I have to go into the other room and call the police to tell them to send an ambulance. You’re face is burned pretty bad. Try not to move. I’m sure it will only take a few minutes before they arrive. Please, try and relax,” Edward said in as soothing a voice as he could.
Edward stood up to go into the other room but Willie grabbed his leg and in a mumbling, rough voice said, “Why, Johnny Buckethead, why did you help me? All I’ve ever done was be mean to you and make you sad.”
Edward didn’t hesitate for one second with his reply. “Because helping you was the right thing to do.”
After the ambulance came and took Willie away, after Mr. Gladstone came and thanked Edward for everything, after Edward’s parents came and hugged him tightly and took him home, only then did Edward finally get a chance to rest his aching neck.
His mother, after seeing how much pain he was in, made sure there were extra pillows on his bed. She wanted his buckethead to be as comfortable as possible. Once Edward laid down, Hershey jumped up and snuggled close. Within seconds Edward was fast asleep. His mother and father sat on the edge of his bed for a long time just watching him.
The next morning Edward’s mother and father were at the kitchen table eating breakfast when Hershey came walking slowly over to them. Hershey's ears drooped and when Hershey got close to where they were sitting, both parents heard him whimpering. Hershey stopped by the side of the table and looked up at Edward’s room and then back at his parents.
Mr. and Mrs. Stuckey looked at each other and right away they knew Hershey was trying to tell them something. Mr. Stuckey immediately got up from the table and ran upstairs to Edward’s room.
By the time Mrs. Stuckey and Hershey reached Edward’s bedroom, Mr. Stuckey was cradling Edward’s head in his arms, rocking back and forth and crying softly. Mrs. Stuckey gasped and put both hands over her mouth. Hershey walked to the side of the bed and lay flat on his belly, looking up with sad eyes.
Mrs. Stuckey was the first to speak. Even though she knew deep in her heart something was terribly wrong, she still had to say it out loud. “He’s gone, isn’t he? Oh no, please tell me it isn’t so. My sweet, sweet little bucket boy is gone, isn’t he?”
In between sobs Mr. Stuckey said, “Yes, my dear, our beautiful bucket boy is gone. The weight of his buckethead was just too much for his neck too handle, especially after he saved that burning boy. Sometime in the night his neck must have snapped. At least he went peacefully in his sleep, my dear.”
Mr. Stuckey kept on rocking Edward in his arms, tears streaming down his face, saying over and over, “My beautiful bucket boy, my beautiful bucket boy.”
Mrs. Stuckey came over and stroked Edward’s hair. “Oh, my sweet boy, you are a hero, my lovely boy, a true, true hero. We love you so very much.” They both cradled Edward together for the rest of the morning, slowly rocking back and forth, their tears coming down nonstop.
About a week later a huge crowd attended Edward’s funeral. Even the mayor and the chief of police were there, along with all of Edward’s neighbors and teachers. Every single person had tears in their eyes the entire time. At least it gave Mr. and Mrs. Stuckey some comfort to know Edward was well liked and respected by so many people.
Mr. Gladstone made a short and very emotional sp
eech about how much the animals in his pet shop loved Edward and how much he would be missed. The mayor surprised everyone when it came time for him to say a few words. The large park on the west side of town would now be called the Edward Stuckey Memorial Park, and he would personally make sure the park would always be kept clean and would always be well taken care of.
Except for thanking everyone for all of their kind and heartfelt words Mr. and Mrs. Stuckey found it hard to say much of anything. Their grief was just too much for them to handle, and even if they tried, it would have been too difficult to put the deep sorrow they felt into words. Along with Hershey the two of them stayed by Edward’s grave until late at night, long after everyone else had left. They just couldn’t bear to say goodbye to the one and only Johnny Buckethead.
Over the years Mr. and Mrs. Stuckey made many, many visits to Edward’s grave site. Nothing out of the ordinary happened on their trips except once, about fifteen years after Edward had passed away. They were both standing by Edward’s grave when they noticed a man and a small boy standing a respectful distance away.
Mrs. Stuckey nudged Mr. Stuckey when she saw the two people standing off to the side. She whispered, “Look sweetheart, do