I am dead. It's rotten luck. Caught in one of those Australian "bushfires" that are engulfing Sydney. I didn't know that bushfires were forest fires, but they are.
Before I died, the laundromat repossessed my sweater because I couldn't afford to pay for the detergent you buy there in a little box. This was how I spent my last day. The day before that, I was packing for the trip I had planned for the day after I died, which was the day before my retirement.
Despite this, since the sweater, the fire and my death I've taken up the marimba! Oh, it's just marvellous. It makes me feel so grand, like I'm all the world's star! And then I remember that all the world's star is actually the sun and not me at all, and that any nuclear fusion would rip me apart. And now I can't cancel my trip to the sun and I'm not going to get that money back. It's bloody expensive.
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