As I lay in the corner of the room, cradling my battered and bruised Duron, wiping the Quicksilver away from its face, I wipe a tear away from my own. Thoughts are racing through my mind, mostly asking a question that will never be answered. Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't it have stopped with the Celeron 300a? Burning to a crisp in a fire crippled the Celeron... Burning from the inside out crippled the Duron... Will it never end? Will the madness and killing ever cease? Tears are streaming down my face as I hopelessly plug the Duron back in the motherboard, but alas, there is no chance in reviving a chip which has been put through enough heat to boil... Having finally realized there is nothing that can be done, I begin stripping down the computer of its components, sobbing painfully at each tug. The lump in my throat grew so big I can no longer speak, only sob. I cried until I had no tears left, and then I still cried. I've lost a friend very dear to me that can never... NEVER be replaced.