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I tried dying this afternoon. My wife was at the library and I was giving the belt thing another shot. This time I figured I would come and then just hang there until everything went black and my wife would have to wait a few days before starting her latest Oprah book. I think I saw that in a Six Feet Under episode once. But I thought of my poor sperm just lying there on the Berber carpet. I couldn't abandon them. I took them and put them in an empty pickle jar, which I hid on my side of the closet next to all the Christmas gifts I still had to wrap.

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