camille louise frere commits suicide on the fourth of july 2009. she puts twelve firecrackers in her mouth and lights them on fire. she pretends that she is giving michael jackson and billy mays simultaneous blow jobs. she thinks 'sweet cocks' and 'sweet sweet honey butterscotch cocks' and uses a match to light the firecrackers. she does this because she is severely depressed and on a lot of speed. it is her fifth day of taking too many speed pills. she thought 'everyone is dead' just before doing this. 'fuck america. fucking america is just like shit' she thinks. all that past week she had listened to michael jackson on tape casette on her dad's old boom box and had watched billy mays infomercial playlists on youtube as a 'tribute' or 'memorial' or something to the sweet sweet cocks in her mouth. 'jesus christ. these are the sweetest sweet cocks' she says in a muffled and mostly not-discernible voice because of the twelve firecrackers in her mouth. she is wearing a red white and blue dress designed to look 'all-american' or something in a sort of '50s housewife retrospective manner and looks fairly sexy. she ate a lot of kosher grilled hot dogs with a lot of relish and listened to her father make a speech to their neighbors about how 'fucking awesome' america is. the neighbors seemed somewhat impressed but mostly had an expression like 'goddamn. damn. goddamn' on their faces when he was giving the speech. camille louise frere decided that she would rather have a dozen firecrackers stuffed in her mouth and lit and think something like 'i have michael jackson and billy mays's cocks in my mouth and they taste like butterscotch or something' than be in america. 'firecockers' she thought and kind of chuckles. she gets very worried suddenly because there are twelve lit firecrackers in her mouth. 'they are dead. every celebrity is dead because everyone is fucking dead. i am dead as shit' she thinks. her brother's girlfriend molly walks up and sees her standing in a fairly sexy dress and with twelve lit firecrackers in her mouth and says 'what are you doing'. camille takes the firecrackers out of her mouth and throws them in a nearby cooler filled with water and says 'assassinating your bitch ass'. molly says 'i don't have a bitch ass. your ass is "bitch"' and sighs loudly. 'fuck you hoe bag' camille says and then immediately feels severely fucked because she likes molly and does not want to alienate her. 'i take it back' she says. molly says 'do you want beer? there is amstel light and corona light and bud light and maybe champagne chilling somewhere'. camille says 'i am on speed' and her face becomes a giant down parabola on a 50" x 50" grid with each box having an area of 1 squared inch showing that she is not okay with drinking alcohol while on speed. 'my heart will stop' she says. 'damn' molly says. camille louise frere does not commit suicide. what just happened in this story probably happened on the back lawn of the house that camille louise frere lives in. when she walks toward the front lawn she (unbeknown to her) steps on a very small grasshopper that just finished crying at about two decibels for four hours straight because his wife left him. 'my wife left me' the grasshopper sobs, 'i am dead as fucking shit. everyone is dead'.