Spike strolls through the streets and a suddenly while looking at a pigeon landing on a street lamp, he remembers something... something important.

What the fuck were we thinking? Were we too busy with war to realize this... 5 days late? (Royal we of course and potentially the we of the masses as well) Old Bastard he is all busy with our wars.... we missed something very important. 

Solastalgia has hit 500 days. That's a fucking scary though eh? But look how far he has come. It is with a happy heart that I'd like to congratulate him on this achievement. We should all be so... lucky? Well, I guess it was luck that has brought him here... Brought us all here actually. Is he damned to live on like this? Some might argue as such... Will he reach 1000? I should like to think so... just to make him suffer my rants some more and have people give him displeased glares. But here we are and here we should all send out praises in his name. 

P.S. Ladies, please form a line in the back, and fill out cards with your credentials. 

Spike goes to help sort the forming line.

Solastalgia parked himself at the front of the barren line, a bowl of butterscotches and stale taffy in one hand and a letter in the other.  While he wasn't keen on celebrating an event centered around his age, he nonetheless smiled and read aloud from the letter written by his long-abandoned son to him days prior, ignoring the rather large tumbleweed that blew across the line.

Dear Solastalgia,

From the moment you fell out of your inactive mother, I'm absolutely unable to fathom how much you have slept through in your long lifetime and how much of your lazy genes have rubbed off on me; it makes me absolutely sick. Your accomplishments as fabled as the likes of Clipper combined with the longevity of peaches, the list of people that are more deserving than you for a longer lifespan are too many to count.  And, yes, that includes birday.  Hopefully 500 days more will be more than enough time for you to make like a tree - and get chopped down to pieces by wealthy industrialists.

Your Begrudging Son,

Dedshot

Well done Solastalgia..... 

How in the world did this happen!!!!!

I blame you Spikes. 

500 is pretty old there Solastalgia. I see you walking around with a colostomy bag and it saddens me. But none the less, you have earned that bag to the fullest! 

All jokes aside, you have achieved something very few Mafioso's do. Well done!

Wiggle toasts to the old man and then shakes his rump as he disappears into the shadows. 

As Maple listens to the letter Godfather Solastalgia reads she wonders why the hell there has to be so much talk of harming trees on the streets lately. She wishes she could escape back to Canada where, at least maple, trees are praised. She suddenly remembers where she is and that she has some congratulating to do. She almost laughs out loud at herself and her wondering thoughts.

Congratulations on becoming very old Solastalgia. I am not sure what I would do if I was as old as you. Probably fall over and never get up. Here's to hoping you continue to have the strength to stay upright for a long time to come!

Approaching Solastalgia, Ziva wraps her Godfather into an unexpected hug.

Congratulations, old man. Few reach this milestone, and although you may joke a little about inactivity and the like, it's no less an achievement because of it. You have, since May, done both Chicago and North Side proud, you've built a fine group of people up, and I could not be happier to be a part of the Dunder Mifflin family.

I also would like to echo what Jenny has said. You yourself have had a longer life than that of my entire bloodline put together. And yet you have still been willing to give my blood more than a fair chance in this thing of ours. You have still been willing to take me in, back me, support me and give me the opportunity to go out into the world with a crew of my own. That, I think, ladies and gentlemen, is the measure of this man.

Also, my friend, I am proud to say that it took me significantly less than your 500 days to start spelling your name right.

Ziva extracts a packet of fine Cuban cigars from her pocket, and slides them into the hand of Solastalgia before slipping away into the night.

Tokyo winks at Ragnarok and keeps moving down the street. Maybe she'll be more impressed when that old bag of bones hits 600 days.