He downs another beer,

His twelfth one tonight.

I watch him.

I watch as the drunken mind of a fourty year old takes over.

He stands up,

Practically stumbling to the ground.

He isn't fit for this.

I watch as he grabs ahold of his chest.

He screams in agony as he clutches hs heart.

Next thing I know,

He's on the gound.

Not a sound of breathing,

Not a muscle moved.

That man is dead.