You're dead. But all of your shit is still lying around my house. And lord knows you're not coming back from beyond the grave to pick it up. I wouldn't let you within a transatlantic distance of my life. So I have to get all of this junk together and burn it.
And I'm really frustrated, because this shit can't catch on fire fast enough.
And I'm really frustrated, because this shit can't catch on fire fast enough.