That's just how I want things to end. I want the landlord to find me decapitated in the bedroom when she comes to find out why she never got her rent check. Severed head in a pool of Mike's Hard Lemonade. That wouldn't be till sometime in September either, so it would be pretty gnar by then.
Now I can't stop thinking about my near death experience and I wake up with plastic sheep stuck in my hair more often than I would like.