Being dead gives me a lot of time to think. Like this one time, I got into a fight with this pet poodle. He was dissing my girl Toothless Tanya and I just had to take him down. I got on my hind legs and was like, “Yo, don’t be dissing my porcupine bro!” And he was all like, “Excuse me sir. I was just enjoying this lovely porcupine’s company. And I was like, “AW HELL NO!” I took a deep breath and popped that mofo square in the jaw. He stood up, straightened his plaid bowtie, adjusted his monocle, and had the nerve to tell me, "Well, it appears you do not have the manners nor the respect in which is necessary to love and honor this prickly beauty. That's when Toothless Tanya got all up in his face and was like, Aw hell to the no! Who you calling prickly." She then pulled out one of her quills, threw it to me and said, "Get him baby." I turned in the direction of douchebag thy name is poodle and stated, "What are you going to do now pooch?” But then before I even knew what was coming, he pulled some kind of Jackie Chan move, stole the quill, and stabbed me right in the left eyeball. But if you think I was down for long you got another thing coming. I whipped out my plastic knife I stole from a BBQ last week and went samurai on his ass. Let’s just say I gave him quite a haircut before he ran off leaving nothing but a trail of snow white fur. In the aftermath of this fight, I never found my eyeball and as for Toothless Tanya, well she left soon after. I died a week later while crossing the street. I misjudged the distance of an oncoming mophead. I now stand here dead, next to a dead deer and picture of Willie Nelson.