Heart Attack

I am going to have a heart attack. Tomorrow, or the next day. Anyway, it's coming, building locomotion, a death train to my heart.

I'm ready. I'm waiting. I suppose I've been waiting for thirty-one years, and here it comes, the fastball!

(swing and a miss, strike one)

Not in my sleep, please. Give it to me while I'm wide awake, watching a Sergio Leone picture or something.

Goodbye, Mother and Father. You didn't raise me well, but you raised me right...and that counts a whole lot. I'll hate you if you miss me and cry a lot on holidays.

To little Xavier: face the sun like a sunflower. You'll figure it out for yourself, so there's no need me telling you to be good. You will or you won't be, and nothing I can say will change that. I hope you don't wind up in prison, but from my perspective it's better than being dead, so maybe I don't know much. Stop scratching your ankles.

I am going to go to sleep now.