This is a response to a challenge on another site that I wrote a long time ago. If you are a Cupcake and got lost and have now found yourself here, please turn around and go back. This is NOT Joe-friendly. It is purely satire and parody and NOT how I really feel about Joe. If you know this will offend you, I suggest you don't read it. Thank you.

Warnings: Contains pure satire, suicide and probably some bad language.

Ultimate Failure

Joe was depressed. Horribly, horribly depressed. Standing at the top of his stairs, he watched the rope that hung in a hangman's noose around his neck. It was fastened to the rail and would be the last thing he felt on this Godforsaken earth.

Everything had started a few weeks ago. He cringed as he remembered the day it had happened. They had been having great, balls to the wall, wild gorilla sex, and then she'd done it. She had screamed his name in ecstasy. Not Joe's name, mind you. No, it had been his name. Ranger's. Joe felt the bile rise in his throat, but fought it back. He didn't want to throw up here. It would be really embarrassing to have all of his cop friends who were going to examine the scene think he threw up because he was weak. Because he wasn't weak. Joe was a real man, and real men didn't throw up when they were about to kill themselves. The fact that real man probably didn't kill themselves to begin with didn't cross his mind.

After the name incident, there had been small things alerting Joe of her feelings towards Ranger. She would smile when he called (five times a day), but Joe just put that up to her wanting to please her boss. She would do distractions for him every other night, but Joe had noticed an increasing rate of criminals in Trenton. Probably they really did a takedown every other night. One that required her to dress up like a slut and strut around with Ranger. The night she came home without underwear, he wanted to believe her when she said they fell off on the way home. But when she called out his name for the second time while they were making love, Joe decided he didn't want to live anymore.

He had found the rope on a coincidence. He was in the hardware store when he noticed they had a sale on rope. Strong, sturdy rope, just 0.25 a foot. At that price Joe couldn't afford NOT to kill himself. So he bought 10 feet of the rope, just to be safe.

Now he was standing on the top of the stairs, ready to jump over the rail. He checked that the knots were good and that the rope was long enough to break his neck, but not long enough for him to reach the floor. That would just be great wouldn't it? If he fell down on the floor and broke a leg or something. He shuddered. Failing at suicide would be like failing at failing. And that was not an option, because Joe was a real man. And real men didn't fail.

Stepping up to the rail, Joe suddenly felt his stomach turn violently and he barely had time to bend over before he was stick all over the floor. Great, he thought, now he'd have to clean the mess up before he could kill himself. What a waste of time. Removing the noose from around his neck, he fetched some paper towels and cleaned up the mess.

Standing by the rail again, he closed his eyes and jumped. He briefly registered the fall as surprisingly long, before his feet hit the floor and he fell to the ground, hitting his toe hard. What the fuck? he thought. Looking up, he realized he'd forgotten to put the noose around his neck. Feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment, he quickly reassured himself that no-one had seen him and decided it was a mistake anyone could have made. Limping up the stairs again, Joe cursed his toe and tried to forget about it. Real men didn't let such a trivial thing as a toe interfere with their suicides.

Placing the noose firmly around his neck, Joe closed his eyes and jumped again. He felt the sharp tug at his neck, and smiled. But then nothing happened. He was hanging from the noose by his neck, but he was still very much alive. Cursing himself for getting the measurements wrong, Joe settled in to slowly choke to death. Five minutes later he was no closer to choking to death and was getting a bit frustrated. The noose wasn't quite tight enough to choke him, but just tight enough to make it difficult for him to breath. Sighing Joe decided he needed to do it again. Swinging back and forth a bit, Joe finally managed to reach the stairs beside him and hoist himself up again; thanking his lucky stars that no-one was watching him.

He was getting frustrated now. Probably these sorts of things happened all the time, but Joe was a real man and shouldn't have to kill himself over and over again.

He grabbed the noose and once again placed it around his neck, tightly this time. But he couldn't quite get into the spirit of things anymore. Plus his freaking toe was still killing him. He debated what to do for a second, and tried to think really depressing thoughts to see if he could get in the mood again – but nothing. He really didn't feel like killing himself anymore. With a sigh he grabbed the noose and made to remove it from around his neck, but instead he tripped. Falling straight onto the rail, Joe's momentum carried him over it. His left arm caught between the rope and the rail, and he heard a nasty crack as he felt the bone break. His body weight dragged the broken arm from under the rope and he continued his fall down. Joe felt a sharp tug at his neck and then felt the rail give. Dropping to the floor, he landed on his leg, and felt the hip bone snap as pieces of what used to be the rail rained down on him.

Lying on the floor, the pain was nearly enough to cause Joe to black out. All he could think of was how magnificently un-manly that fall had been. He, the Italian Stallion, had failed miserably at committing suicide. He was never going to be a member of the Real Man Club anymore.

Looking around Joe tried to find something that could help him. But there was no phone around and there was no chance in hell he was going to make it to the door on his condition. Lying back on the floor, Joe tried really hard to will himself to die. But nothing happened.

Joe's eyes fell on the small table across the hall. There lay his gun. Why the hell hadn't he just used that in the first place? Cursing his stupidity, Joe slowly started to drag himself over to the table, using his good arm and the good leg. After what seemed like ages, he finally reached the table and managed to get the gun.

Clutching it tightly to his chest, Joe felt a bubble of hysterical laughter escape his lips. He was finally going to do it. Laughing he aimed and pulled the trigger.

Trenton Daily News, the next day:

Trenton Cop Tries to Commit Suicide!

Yesterday afternoon, Trenton Detective, Joe Morelli, was found in his own house after apparently having tried to commit suicide. When the ambulance arrived, Morelli was still conscious, having first tried to hang himself, then tried to shoot himself. He suffered a broken hip, a broken arm, rope burns around his neck, a bruised toe and a bullet wound to his ear. Doctors are optimistic about his recovery.

At this time there is no information about why he tried to commit suicide, but according to a source, his long time girlfriend has now moved in with notorious bounty hunter and security expert Carlos Manoso.

Psychologist Gerard Lambert states in his comment to TDN that Morelli is highly unstable and might have suffered a permanent mental breakdown. The cop will be spending at least a year institutionalized.

A/N: I know the challenge stated to off someone, but the poor dumb bastard just couldn't get the job done. Sorry.