“When I’m dead, I’ll miss

Flowers which give me allergies and make it impossible to breath from both nostrils at once. I’ll miss

Sunlight reflecting off cars to blind me while I drive. I’ll miss

Broccoli, which tastes so disgusting on my tongue. I’ll miss

Smoke drifting off a cigarette and molesting my nostrils, making me cough. I’ll miss

Summers too hot to think. I’ll miss

Winter, when everyone is sniffling and, instead of staying home, passing on their cold or flu. I’ll miss

E-mails that are just spam, flooding my inbox, taking forever to sort out and delete. I’ll miss

Movies so bad that they’re a waste of my money. I’ll miss

Ants invading my new food, and the reek of the ant repellant. I’ll miss

Food poisoning from the occasional bad restaurant with mediocre service, and how I stupidly still left a tip. I’ll miss

Waiting in line forever at places like the DMV. I’ll miss

Vacuuming, dusting, washing the dishes, and all the other boring chores. I’ll miss

Feet in pain from stepping on sharp object or from falling asleep. I’ll miss

People too inconsiderate to avoid walking into you or to turn down their obnoxious radios. I’ll miss

, yes sir, I’ll even miss

You.”

And then he shot him. And he missed