"911... What is your emergency?" "I'd like to report a death." "A death, sir?" "Yes. My dot... it... it has died." "Your... dot???" "Yes. I just wanted... I just wanted to see it run majestically down the field just one more time... just once... and it died on the play. I think it had a heart attack." "Sir? Are you sure it's dead?" "Yeah... it hasn't moved in several hours." "Sir... if you don't mind my asking... how old was your dot?" "Um... uh... about 1657 days... I think... maybe older. I don't know. It was pretty old. Why? Do you think that was the problem?" "Uh... yes. It probably was the problem. I'll send an ambulance sir but I think it might be too late." "Damn. But I don't WANNA RETIRE HIM!!! HE'S MY HERO!!!!!!! WAHHHHH!!!!! (much crying and sobbing)" "It's ok sir... you can make another dot." "NO! HE'S MINE AND I DON'T WANNA 'NUTHER DOT! I WANT THIS ONE!" (sounds in the background...) "Sir? SIR? What are you doing sir?" "Gonna use my jumper cables and shock him back again. I WANT MY DOT BACK!!!!!!"