Xhe gasps. Xhe wheezes. There isn't much of xihm left. Xhis vision is slowly fading, drifting and ghostlike, dwindling till close to nothing. Puking wretchedly, xhe empties the final acidic bits left in xhis belly. The American virus, as it's called, is slowly eating away at xihm, leaving nary but a withered soul soon to be flying free from this broken mortal machine ...

And at last, with the last rasping breath fleeing xher's lungs, as xher's head thumps the floor, upsetting the puke slick, xhe manages to choke out xher's final words before the last lights blink out and the long sleep begins ...

"At least I'm not racist, like DRUMPF"