If I terminated my existence I could not enjoy the fruits of my wager you daft thing.
Must it be so? Why then would you offer a dollar to a nameless and faceless child halfway round the world? I can think of a few reasons to trade my life for, some of them completely selfish.
And come now Prince, quit being a skirt-clutching epicene. There is no trauma so great that one can't, with the right inducements, surmount it. The death of a loved one is perhaps the greatest emotional scar and all of us run around screaming and pulling out our hair and wondering how we can carry on. But the alarm bell rings in the morning and we swing our feet out of bed and fetch coffee for our domineering boss and tell Sally Sue in the cubicle next door that she looks gorgeous since having her baby with the gap toothed smile.
I will never be able to suck anything again. Not lollipops, not ice cubes, not even a stiff 9-incher, the mental trauma wouldn't allow it. Life would be empty.