I never thought I'll ever say this to him, but "fuck you. I hope you choke with your own alcohol and die in the worst torments of cirrhosis. I'm not giving you more than 6 months to live. I will not be seeing you either in hell or heaven. I rule hell, and the guy from upstairs won't receive you there. So your holed soul will wander between heaven and hell, and never ever find its rest. And your soul won't be living. You deserve to be alone. You deserve your wife being dead for more than a decade. No wonder you never found anyone else having in mind the way you treated her. So you might as well return to your former activities in the front of the TV or behind the bathroom door, because nobody wants you. Not even your parents. Not even your children."
It won;t be long now until I'll be gone. And you will die in the darkest solitude, and in the worst way possible: with people in the house, whom you never talk to.
P.S. I won;t even come to bury you, or visit your grave. Rot in pieces.
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