TVC: I'm not dead yet, but I'm certainly dying. Just woke up in the middle of the night with my pig flu mannnnnn. Tell me a bed time story.
Well, once there was a little dying homosexual boy, and every time he laid down to go to sleep, he could hear his little heart beating.
"Am I supposed to hear my heart beating?" thought the boy. "It's awfully loud."
This anxiety caused his heart to beat a little faster and harder.
"I swear, just there, it got worse," he thought. "Something is definitely the matter."
At this sign of increasing worry, his sympathetic nervous system prepared for the worst, coincidentally making his heart thump a bit louder and a bit faster.
"It just won't slow down. It's making it hard to breath!"
Indeed, the little boy's mouth could no longer produce sound, although he could feel little huffs of air exit quickly. Trying to sit up, the lack of sufficient oxygen prevented the lad from elevating his chest and neck to potentially make breathing easier.
"AGhhhhh!! Aghhhhhh1h1h!"
The self-reinforcing feedback loop of his anxieties and paranoias and his heart continued to eat itself like a man made of warm soft pretzels with nacho cheesy innards would. A few minutes later, his heart exploded and he died alone. Not just because he was alone in his room, but because his life was completely empty and nobody loved him, not even his parents. Then he went to hell because he chose to become a Muslim. The end.
