"Ye.. Can't he.. it man. Ramona.. She's.. I've done her... ron man."
[Scott wished he could just sit up and say something like, "Psyche! Pssht! Let's go get some drinks and pick up a chick or two!" Alas, there'd be no chick picking up, there'd be no drinking, and of course- there'd be no Scott Pilgrim for those things to happen.
They say that if a man spent every day of is life trying to find the best place to watch the sun rise, that it would not be a wasted life. Scott Pilgrim enjoyed the sun rising as much as the next guy, but he couldn't help but feel like he had wasted what time he had here with the living. Looking up at Quinn, his heart sank like an anvil falling from the Empire State Building. Maybe it was the loss of blood, or the genuine feeling of regret, but Scott felt a pain unlike any he had felt before.]
"Quinn.."
[His hand dropped from Quinn's shirt, hitting the ground with a soft thud. With a dry throat wheezing in shallow, shortened breaths for air, Scott spoke his last few words with what energy he had left.]
"If.. If I tot.. ly liked dudes.. I'd do ya'.."
[He barely got a soft chuckle out before his head rolled to the side lifelessly. His wheezing ceased as the blood continued to pool under him. The street became eerily silent around them. The lack of birds or a breeze left the air as still as death. Stephens road would now be a bit less noisy, a bit less "rocked", and a tenant short- now that Scott Pilgrim had passed on.]
no subject
[Scott wished he could just sit up and say something like, "Psyche! Pssht! Let's go get some drinks and pick up a chick or two!" Alas, there'd be no chick picking up, there'd be no drinking, and of course- there'd be no Scott Pilgrim for those things to happen.
They say that if a man spent every day of is life trying to find the best place to watch the sun rise, that it would not be a wasted life. Scott Pilgrim enjoyed the sun rising as much as the next guy, but he couldn't help but feel like he had wasted what time he had here with the living. Looking up at Quinn, his heart sank like an anvil falling from the Empire State Building. Maybe it was the loss of blood, or the genuine feeling of regret, but Scott felt a pain unlike any he had felt before.]
"Quinn.."
[His hand dropped from Quinn's shirt, hitting the ground with a soft thud. With a dry throat wheezing in shallow, shortened breaths for air, Scott spoke his last few words with what energy he had left.]
"If.. If I tot.. ly liked dudes.. I'd do ya'.."
[He barely got a soft chuckle out before his head rolled to the side lifelessly. His wheezing ceased as the blood continued to pool under him. The street became eerily silent around them. The lack of birds or a breeze left the air as still as death. Stephens road would now be a bit less noisy, a bit less "rocked", and a tenant short- now that Scott Pilgrim had passed on.]