a ragged looking man stumbles in the streets and falls into the gutter, clutching his bottle of cheap moonshine... he staggers to his feet and stands in the middle of the streets, causing everyone to stare and mutter under their breath to each other...

...I just... can't go on without you.

you... reached out to me...

you... gave me my starter loan...

you... had no idea where i was from or who's line i descended from...

you... answered my questions...

you... gave a fuck!

for that, I thank you and in return, shall follow you to the grave!

Zoloft, we miss you.

mick raises his gun from his holster and points the barrel into his mouth pointing towards his brain...

he does not hesitate to pull the trigger...