True story. We had a few stouts(beer) last night and were talking about funny shit we both have done in our lives. And out of nowhere, he brought up a sad story about his best friend. Initially, I thought it was going to be something about the war - because he served in WW2. I won't say it was "far worse," but it made me cry pretty damn hard. It's short but very sad. My grandpa and his best friend went hunting, squirrel hunting. They were out there for a like thirty minutes and couldn't find any squirrels he said. Unfortunately, his best friend was behind some thick bush when he thought it was a squirrel. He shot in the bush and something fell on the ground; his best friend was choking on his own blood for a few seconds before dying. He got shot with a shotgun somewhat close, but he didn't die instantly. He had to carry his dead best friend, who he just killed, to his parents and tell them that he killed their son in a hunting accident. The police came, but back then the law was very different. He didn't go to prison but went on to serve in WW2. He was a young teenager when this happened. So yeah, that's pretty much it. I can't believe that shit. Living with the fact you killed your best friend is just so damn horrible. Permanent mental scar.