Sounds like a plan.
Okay, I'll get the needles and the booze. You grab some chairs and a journal.
Isn't this a bit rash...
Fine, forget the chairs, but bring the damn journal. We're gonna write till we bleed.
This sounds like a plan, but it sounds like a fucking bad plan.
First sentence- let's throw our lives away. I'm not really concerned about good or bad.
Really? You're gonna question me now?
Someone should have long ago, dammit. You're running around like a mad man.
And what if I am mad? The mad ones are the only ones for me. Drink, shoot, dive. That's the plan. Sayonara.