Here's how I imagine my death:

I'm about 90 years old. I roll about 20 joints and put on my personal jetpack (by then everybody will have one). I fire up the first joint and lift off. I use my futuristic laser beam gun to start a shootout with the robopigs. A high-speed jetpack chase ensues as I continue to smoke the spliffs. Then I board a spaceship at a predetermined location. On board the spaceship are lots of hot bisexual female sexbots and lots and lots of assorted drugs. The sexbots get really freaky on me and on each other as I continue the shootout and do all sorts of drugs. Then our spaceship plunges into the sun, and hopefully the robocops follow us.