I got news for you pal. You're already dead. And I am too. We're both walking dead men. We're zombies, Tom. Forget about 343. You add in all the other guys in all of the other houses, and all of the brain cells that we've killed, and all of the marriages that we've destroyed, all of the kids whose dad's have that blank stare on their face for the past decade, and all of those zombies still riding around on their rigs for ten years, Tom, ten years, trying to fill in the holes inside them. 343, that number ain't even close. So, do what you got to do, Tom. Go downtown, bury yourself in that hole, and make it official. Make it 344. Just for God sakes, just get it over with, Tom, so the rest of us can go back to leading our quiet little zombie lives.

Lou