The Gruesome Beginning

He looks too cute to be a suicide. His body is so fit. Maybe he's a runner. He's almost too small. Perfectly shaved, tatooed chest, hair cut low and neatly edged. His face is chiseled with high cheek bones and tightened skin. Not a single wrinkle. He's got defined biceps and triceps. His abs are so well formed one can almost see what he ate for dinner last night through his rib cage. His thighs and legs so slender they make him out to be an athlete. Even this guys feet are perfect, the result of a well-done pedicure of course. Why give all of this away? Just look at that cock! Wow! Not only did he slit his wrist and flood this beautiful carpet with his personal sangria but he has denied some lucky young lady the chance to fondle, suck, ride, and handle that long, precious log of his. What a waste!
Why would he do it is my job for right now. The why is what keeps my mind young and fresh. The why is what haunts me in the shower, on the ride to work, while I'm washing dishes, or hanging out at the bar hoping to get lucky. The why is makes my life miserable because just when I thought I've answered it, I'm interrupted with another why. I am never free from the why and that's what keeps me employed. It's not so bad though. After 10 years, I've grown accustomed to it. I've made provisions to accommodate the why in my life. If you marry me, you marry the why because we are a package deal.
"Hey Parker!"
"Yeah"
"Take a look at this."
"Ok."