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    After spending several hours wandering Brooklyn’s deadliest streets with the hope of ending his life, thirty-nine year old store clerk Ernie Peterson returned home unscathed and even more depressed than when he left.

    “I did a quick google search for ‘best place to get yourself killed’ and just started walking”, Ernie explains, “I didn’t plan a specific route, so most of my time was spent following blood trails around and running toward the direction of gunfire and screams. It always felt like I was either in the right place at the wrong time or the wrong place at the right time. I was stepping over lucky bastards left and right.”


    Area gang leader Ice-U is equally upset with Ernie’s continued existence. “Frankly, it’s embarrassing to know that something like this could happen in our neighborhood.” Ice-U notes that recent turf wars have forced a reduction in street patrols, but is quick to add that he isn’t making excuses. “Mr. Peterson came to us with an opportunity, and we sincerely regret letting that opportunity slip through our murderous fingers.”


    To Ernie, however, the apology means little. “I don’t want excuses. I want death. I mean, I kept my wallet in my back pocket the whole time, asked for help in getting back to my condo in Manhattan, and even shouted in the street to see whether anyone knew how to set the time on a Rolex. What else could I do? Honestly, if things don't get better soon, I'm just going to move to Detroit.” 

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