Suicide is Painless.

"Pull the trigger," she whined. I looked at the gun in my hand and noticed it's weight for the first time. "You promised." She had me there.

Trust me when I say that her proposal of a suicide pact was not the first time I realized she was crazed. I noticed that on the fourth date.

We were at my corner bar and all was well, maybe she had had a little too much to drink. Or more probably she was trying to make me jealous.

Either way, that poor chap's head never needed to meet a wine bottle on those terms. If only I wasn't hooked on her hope diamond of vaginas.

I wasn't the kind of guy who would stick around for that kind of thing, but this type of anatomical perfection comes by once in a lifetime.

I always knew there was a reason I didn't introduce her to my mother. I thought the suicide pact was a joke. Then, slut broke out the guns.

Two guns, to be exact. I reluctantly took one from her, my laughter dying quickly. This was unexpected. I'm a prick for not escaping sooner.

And now, must I die for the sin of loving her pussy? Seems cruel. But perhaps she's given me an out. Maybe not. Her plan: I shoot her first.

I get to live, but she's dead and I murdered her so I live the rest of my days in prison. Or I shoot myself and- the end. Oh wait, new plan.

Now we'll both shoot on the count of three. Despite everything, she really is just a romantic at heart. Here goes. One..two- whoops. My bad.