How to get rich

1. Find a way to make something useful out of cat diarrhea and vomit
2. Clone many of the 9.6 pound cat I got from a shelter two days ago
3. Feed the cats and watch them stop after eating three ounces of food
4. Gather the two pounds of diarrhea and vomit each cat produces over the next thirty-six hours
5. Roll in piles of money like a kid on a sugar high playing in leaves

My cat, taking a well-earned break from vomiting and crapping on rugs.

Percocet, alcohol, vomit

What happens is you're so relaxed your esophagus opens and doesn't reject the vomit as it normally would, so if no one's there to turn you on your side and clear air passages you choke on it. 

This just happened last week to a man I knew. He was in his late twenties and not, I think, doing more drugs than many his age who feel a little lost in life. It's as nearly a death by chance as someone in high spirits not thinking to look before stepping into a street. That momentary lapse in judgement has robbed him of decades of life. 
The older you get, the more shocking such fragility becomes to you.

No to Chemo

He knows that one day he'll get cancer and that a doctor, maybe two, will recommend chemotherapy to treat it. But the Complete and Total Loser, who vomited last night for the first time in twenty years, will take a speedy death unless he's guaranteed the treatment won't involve months or even weeks of throwing up.

Someone named Minnie died fifty years ago. Someone remembered Minnie enough to put a poinsettia on her grave, which is in a small cemetery in rural Pennsylvania.

The Loser's life is shit anyway. He lives alone and always will. His parents died a year ago, and he has no wife or children. He has two brothers he sees infrequently and fewer friends he sees even less. His job is meaningless, stressful and unpleasant.
So whatever is the point? His only doable ambition is to read of few good books he's had sitting around.