"Man, this makes so depressed," Jerry said sadly while touching his cold alphabet soup. He sighed and turned back to his TV.

"Man, the only way to fix this is to heat it back up," Jerry told himself. His show cut to a commercial.

"Bill Mays here with a sale on all Clorox products!" Bill Mays says WAYYYYY to happily. Jerry smiles happily as a thought popped into his head.

"Or I could just kill myself!" Jerry declares. Jerry hops on his bike (He Owns A Bike Because He Is Fuckboi) and rides it like the guy I rode last night (JK) to the store. Once there, he heads to the cleaning products aisle.

"Now that I'm here," Jerry thinks to himself,"how much should I get?" Like any normal person, instead of just buying a gallon or two and chugalugging, he pulls out trusty Google.

He closes out of cornhub and asks how much bleach does he need to kill himself. A few seconds later, Jerry finds his answer, one pint, but he also stumbles upon something worrying. Bleach kills you slowly and painfully.

Jerry wanted a quick, painless death. He became to cry like a depressed, emo bitch.

"I don't wanna kill myself like this," the bitch cries out loudly. A mother walking by with her small child looks happily at him.

"Well, you can always slit your wrists!" She tells him happily and the little girl nods and smiles. He wipes his eyes.

"Really?" He asks.

"Yep!" The woman answers,"just use your razor." Jerry smiles and thanks the woman. He runs out to ride his fuckboi bike home to slits his wrist.