Hey, doll. Looks like I let you down again. Seems like all my life, I've just been going, going, going. I wish I'd taken more time to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. Well, I guess it's too late for that now. You were the greatest, baby.

— Your chest on fire?
— Check.
— But you're cold.
— Check.
— And you got a steel hard-on, don't you?
— Let me check. Check.

I'm dead, and you're simple.

I know you motherfuckers have epinephrine!