Stanford Pines stood in the living room, knife in his hand. Mabel, Dipper, and Stanley were away at the store. He had already said his final goodbyes to them before they left, though he was careful not to act too suspicious. He reassured himself for the thousandth time that they weren't going to see it happen. There was nobody else in the house, just Stanford. Soon there would be nobody at all. He would have nothing more to worry about, nothing more to regret, and nobody else would be harmed by the existence of Stanford Pines. He was finally ready to rid the world of himself.
"Goodbye."
He ran the knife across each of his wrists and laid down for the final time on the wooden floor. He winced a few times, but overall, the experience was not very bad. Blood loss was relieving the pain, actually, because his entire body was going numb. He looked around a little. It really was a pleasant Sunday afternoon. The right amount of sunlight was pouring through the window and onto him like liquid, it was peacefully quiet, and the sensation of the pool of blood forming under him was comforting to him. It reminded him of his childhood when he would lay in the sand on the beach and let the waves roll over him. Stanford would have smiled, but his face had gone so numb he couldn't move his lips. Most of his senses were leaving him, and his eyelids were drifting closed. It was almost like he was just taking a lovely, quiet nap. Goodnight.
"GRUNKLE FORD!"
Then the world went black.
