The above is a picture of Seymour. Perhaps his mental illness stems from the fact that he thinks he's a seagull though he's clearly... not.
The below is his second (last?) suicide note. To read his first, click here: Seymore's First Note
Well, as you might have guessed, I'm still alive. Not a zombie, not a vampire, just a forsaken soul.
Here's how it went down the first time it didn't go down: I was flying due west into the horizon. I prayed for a brisk gust of wind to send me spiraling down, down, down into the sea. My wish was granted, praise Gaia. But, alas, I had forgotten how well seabirds float. We float very, very well. We're bastards.
So I regroup and I rally: This world-weary and regrettably buoyant soul lives to try again!
New Plan: I have decided I shall feed myself to one of the more absurd looking foofoo dogs who wander these grounds led on Italian leather leashes by their masters, the fools. I think death by Poodle would be a fine end to my mockery of a life. I shall walk right up to the pitiful beast and climb into its toothy mouth.
And if these bones and these feathers resist defeat by Poodle, I shall commission a larger creature -- perhaps a Labradoodle -- to do the deed.
If not by Poodle, then surely by Labradoodle, I shall find peace.