How I learned to stop worrying and die
We’ve all died at some point. Hit by a brown sedan while crossing the street, shot in the face by a drug dealer with bad skin, fell into a lava pit, crushed by a rampaging wild horse, vital organs consumed by a skinless horror, dropped out of a jet in mid-air, stabbed through the heart by a giant spider, pulled through a portal to hell, legs blown to pieces by a sticky grenade, pecked to death at the beak of an angry chicken, head cut off by a rampaging yokel or hammered into a fine paste by a robot that is also a tank....