So here's how you're gonna die:
Garbageman Stan is married to the very beautiful Missus Garbageman Stan. Garbageman Stan has been inseperable from his best friend, Trashman Tony, ever since the first week Tony joined the Waste Management Force and Garbageman Stan was assigned as his Probationary Period Supervisor. Garbageman Stan showed Trashman Tony how to make the best of this life on the dirty curbs, and Trashman Tony repaid him with the devotion and loyalty of a sibling.
A great bond can be destroyed only with the most spectacular of explosives.
Trashman Tony stopped by Garbageman Stan's house a month and a half ago for some comfort. Trashman Tony's Mom, Mrs. Tony, had died in the night in her bed in Tony's home. But Garbageman Stan had run off on a payday bender, but not before marring Missus Garbageman Stan's face with a shiner to her eye. Trashman Tony ignored his own pain and took Missus Garbageman Stan to the couch and laid her down with a meat over her face. Trashman Tony stayed by her side for an hour and listened to her complaints about Garbageman Stan. It would be another hour before he told her about his mom. And that's when she kissed him. They would conduct their affair for three whole weeks, over 8 separate encounters, before Garbageman Stan would catch them together.
Garbageman Stan challenged Trashman Tony to a duel, as is dictated in the Waste Management Force's Code of Honor. They would divert their trucks from their routes and meet at either end of a ten-block stretch of road at dawn. When the streetlights flicker off, both gentlemen would start their engines and accelerate full speed towards each other to collide at the peak of their respective engines' prowess.
They way you're gonna die is you're gonna wake up just before dawn today and start jogging because you'll have decided that it's about time you tried to get into shape and turn your life around. All stretched out in your brand new sneaks and sweatsuit, you'll jog three hopeful steps into the street when those two trash trucks grab hold of you tight at 65 miles per hour and flatten you right smack dab in the middle of their grilles. When they pull the trucks apart, you'll have been reduced to something like a kind of paste, with hardly a bone not ground down and all of your skin and tissue melted in the heat of that burning mountain of iron and waste.
Garbageman Stan will be dead too. Tony won't walk again. And Missus Garbageman Stan is gonna remarry.
Happy Trash Day!