I wish you weren't dead.
So I could tell you that your suicide letter was the funniest thing I ever read.
But there you are. Gone and beyond. In heaven or hell. Or places unsaid.
I'd love to tell you that I care. But that feeling's beyond me. Because I'm stuck here selling sandwiches to lonely truckers.
$2.99 for an egg salad on rye.
Beat that, Dead Guy.