Dear Sir,

It has been brought to my attention that Little Caesar's Corporation LLC. DPD. PHD. ORG. will be closing their doors as of July 22nd 1936, it is of my most humblest of apologies that I bring you this drastic news. Ever since the loss of the late Chocola, the number of pizzas (and other such substances) have been selling at a slower pace than usual. Everyone who had placed stocks into LCC will be repaid by October 31st 1936 regardless of if the company is still running. We thank you for understanding.

- Argyle

"No, no. This is all wrong, Chocola isn't deceased, you're not shutting down operations, and who the hell would buy stock from you? This is far too short of a message and you're never supposed to tell them exactly why you're shutting down, just go with unforeseen complications, people don't want to know the whole story. Be vague. It's like you've never done this before, you fucking amateur, who are you kidding?"

All of the complaints were perfectly reasonable, but sometimes Argyle wished his mind would shut off. It was always far too loud and trying to tell him what to do, but today was the day he would finally become free; he would take over his life and no longer need to deal with this whole thinking problem.

The lock box was, well, it was locked, what else would it be? But luckily for Argyle, he knew the code, as he was the one who set it in the first place, why else would it be in his home? Stop asking such ridiculous questions and just let me tell the story. Anyways, where were we? Oh, yes, this is when the gun was pulled from its hiding spot. He had been waiting to do this for quite some time, all of the sadness had cultivated to this one last moment.

Clank...

Clank...

Tiny Clink...

LOUD CLANK

All of the bottles which strewn the floor moved quite easily if you only shuffled your feet, Argyle learned this trick months ago when he first realized that he had a horrible problem. Taking a seat he sighed to himself quietly, before looking down and noticing the blood that was now slowly leaking from his toe; apparently he wasn't as good at traversing his flat as he previously had believed. No matter, soon he wouldn't have to worry about any of this, soon nothing would matter and he would join the great ones in the new frontier.

The Knock on the Door

Hope. Hope was all he had; he needed it right now more than ever. If he closed his eyes and hoped hard enough, maybe his problems would be solved and the gentle rapping against the door would subside; but like always, hope did nothing and the sound continued to emanate throughout the entire house -- he knew how to fix that, and pulling out his gun from the holster he placed three perfect holes into the door and that's when the noise went silent. Ahh. Perfect. Now to find out whom that was. Shuffling back over the bottles, he worked his way to the knob and tugged at it with vigor, and once it creaked open he smiled.

One dead man clutching to his chest, the landlord himself, the keeper of these hallowed halls was now laying there nothing more than an empty husk to be burnt in the incinerator. How funny it was to him, no one would ever understand just how useful a pizza place was in this line of work; but this time there would be a twist, one that no one would expect.

Dragging the man inside, Argyle called up a couple of his men. About ten minutes later a car pulled up and he knew that it was time, dragging the corpse to the back of the truck, they lugged it inside and drove off to Little Caesars. Walking inside while the rest prepared for the job, Argyle pushed his way over to the fiery machine; looking inside his eyes filled with the flames, it was hell itself. It was home, and he was ready to return whence he came.

The First Attempt

What Argyle found out was that attempting to step into a fire is a lot harder than it at first may look, and an oven is a lot deeper than one would expect it to be. Standing on a chair, he tried to leap in, but sadly his trajectory was off and the only damage he was able to achieve was a rather large welt on the side of his head. Alerted by the loud thump, one of the guys working ran into the room a lot faster than Argyle had anticipated and upon seeing him on the floor, walked over to help him up with a look of worry worked onto his face.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Thinking on his feet was one of his specialties, as he came up with plenty of answers to the question. Maybe he had tripped, while standing on a chair... or perhaps a ghost had put him there, completely unable to move his own limbs he was at the complete mercy of the poltergeist and its nefarious attempt at murder.

"I tripped on a ghost trying to put away the chair, err... eh, just go do your job! Is the body prepared yet?"

"Aye sir, it’s ready to go."

As the man turned around to make his way back to the murdered man, Argyle once more took a daring leap towards the flaming pyre only to be met with the same exact lump only a few inches away from the last. Perhaps burning to death wasn't the way to go, but if not, then what? He had to think on his feet before the men became aware of what was intended for this fateful night.

Seconds Times a Charm?

Maybe there would be something simple. Easy. Clean. Something he hadn't thought about yet that no one would be able to stop once he had done it, he didn't want to be saved. No way, this was his march towards the breach. Nothing could stop him from it, not even a really nice pair of... aha! Out of the corner of his eye, Argyle spied a rather dangerous looking liquid sitting on the floor right next to the rest of the cleaning supplies, if this wouldn't kill him then nothing at all would.

"You almost ready?” one of the rather nosy workers peeked his head into the area where Argyle stood, now holding an entire jug of some noxious chemical in his hand. All he could do was nod, which was enough for the guy, his name was Chad or something; who knows, Argyle didn't have time to learn names, especially not right now. Not when he was so close to the end, putting the drink to his lips all he could smell was, wait... berries? What the hell kind of deadly cocktail is this? His nose didn't even burn, this wouldn't do.

Grabbing up a couple of other jars from the floor he downed all of them, one by one, yet he still stood perfectly alive. He was pretty sure one of them was spaghetti sauce and that's when he realized that this wasn't the cleaning supplies but rather the pantry. Nothing was going his way lately, he couldn't even die properly.

Making this a rather difficult affair, Argyle rushed over to where the men where now burning the body and grabbed one of their guns before firing towards his face before anyone could grab his arms. *Click, Click* Oh, the safety. In his rushed last ditch attempt he had forgotten about that old thing, and now they all knew to worry.

"What tha fuck is goin' on?"

Not knowing what to say, he ran out of the room quickly. There had to be something here that would end this, at this point it was too embarrassing to continue even if he decided he wanted to; no, it had to be done now. NOW! That's when he remembered that he still had the gun he had used to dispatch of the landlord; it was all falling into place.

No, its definitely the third time.

Making his way to the bathroom he shut the door and locked it as many times as possible, that's when he remembered the wise words of his father ruminate through his mind -- "Hey son, how are you today?" -- His father loathed him, clearly, but now he would finally make him proud and do the one thing that would fix all of his problems, pushing the gun towards his face, he closed his eyes and let loose the dogs.

*Click, Click*

"Aw fuck, you've got to be kidding me..."

When he was firing the shots, it was quite cool, but now the overkill had ruined everything. Two of the men finally broke down the door and pulled Argyle from the shower, he lay there now a broken man; they would never let him live down this day of weakness, as one of them fished around in their pocket for a moment, surely to pull out a gun and do the deed himself, before fishing out something which the sad man did not expect at all.

Mister Duckhead, Property of Argyle. DO NOT TOUCH!!!

It was pure elation. Nothing could ruin this moment, his favorite duck, the shower companion of a lifetime, was finally back to its proper owner and the dark days of despair were no longer. Jumping up from the floor without a moment's notice, Argyle snatched up his best friend and pushed the three men out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them and only the sound of a running bath could be heard from within, it was all but over.

"So, uh, I guess we should burn the body and leave?"

"Yeah, who cares? Next time he calls I'm not answering."

"Me neither, alright, lets get the fuck outta here."

It was magnificent. Everything was right again in the world. Now it was time to relax, the perfect end to the perfect day.