The end is near.
And it's much closer than we expect. I will die alone. In poverty and pain. My last meal will be a cold bologna sandwich eaten over the sink. I will wash down 6 Tylenol with a glass of half sugared Kool-Aid.
But something will happen this time. My liver won't make the correct enzymes, or will it simply implode from overuse. I will choke and stutter. The glass will fall and shatter from my hand. The orange drink will run down the badly stained tile. My head will reverberate several times from the awful impact.
My last vision will be a cockroach running out from behind the dishwasher towards me, his eyes smiling and triumphant!