[Accidental Voicepost]

[is_the_walrus]

[the recorder clicks to life; Henry's voice is thick with emotion]

--not a fuckin' fairytale.  No genies, never enough shit to drink, not even a fuckin' way t' avoid the tick--

Reveur had this sayin'... but who gives a fuck about him here.  Just me.  'M the only one who knows him, an' when I get away, no one'll know an' he'll be gone.

[after a brief pause]  Why's there a goddamn cemetery if no one dies?  It's gotta work sometimes.

[a long pause, then a series of faint, irregular metallic clicks]

[quietly]  'M sorry...

Don't even know where the fuck I am anymore.  Who I am--what happened, who these people are, who's dead, who's alive.  It was s'posed t' be hell, not... not this.  Somewhere I was already, not dead an' not alive.  Heaven, hell, or nothin'--I wanna stop dreamin'.  Wanna be awake, or nowhere... burnin', even.  Anywhere but here.

Sorry... least ya can't see me, Sam.

[the gunshot is startlingly loud and abrupt; there's a soft thud, and then nothing but silence]

[ooc: Henry, being dead, won't be answering tags until his inevitable revival tomorrow.  Sorry!]