So it occurs to me that some of you may be getting the wrong idea. You see, every time a person or critter I love dies, I write a nice blog entry, saying lots of nice things, like what an awesome mother/father/grandparent/dog he or she was. You might have gotten the impression that it's OK to die, since I will say nice things about you.
Uh-uh. No way. Forget that crap.
I will trash talk you to all your friends. I will say shit about you on Facebook. I will tell your mom where you hid your porn stash.
I know what you're thinking: "I don't have a porn stash." I'm also gonna tell your mom what a goddamn filthy liar you are. If you truly do not have a porn stash, I will put one in your bathroom, right next to a box of tissues and some hand cream. If you do not have a mom, through illness, accident or asexual reproduction, I will create CafePress t-shirts with your naked baby pictures and sell them until the police confiscate my computer.
I hope I'm making myself clear: Don't die. The consequences won't be good for you.