You fish one single beer from the ice box, even though there's five more left in there. You fry a single egg and egg it slowly while typing away at your expensive and cigarette burned typewriter.
A OFTL agent slips in the back window. You dog would have barked and warned you had you not killed it while too fucked up to remember clearly. He sneaks up and he fires one shot into the side of your head with your own gun that he snatches from beside the type writer before you can react. You have been suicided and society is safe now,
But death is a loud short rush and you return to some semblance of life in a different dimension where the world is a series of Endless Rooms