"Farewell, hello, farewell, hello."

"If you could change something about the novel, what would it be?"

Nothing, but it would be fun to rewrite the way that Billy dies in the future. So it goes. Therefore I am going to do that.
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Billy Pilgrim says now that this really is the way he is going to die, too. As a time-traveler, he has seen his own death many times, has described it to a tape recorder. The tape is locked up with his will and some other valuables in his safe-deposit box at the Ilium Merchants National Bank and Trust, he says.
I, Billy Pilgrim, the tape begins, will die, have died, and always will die on February thirteenth, 1976.
At the time of his death, Billy is in his home in Ilium. He was supposed to have gone to a conference in Chicago where he was to speak on the matters of time-travel and flying saucers. During his time after the war, he had become a renowned lunatic speaking on matters which made no sense. Yet, Billy Pilgrim still attracted quite the crowd at each one of his sessions. One time, a riot broke out during one of his speeches and caused a death of a poor boy who happened to be passing by. So it goes. Since that time, the police increased security and on several occasions volunteered to protect Billy until he reached his humble home in Ilium. But this was not the case.
Billy is at home, relaxing in his leather, reclining chair, reading a novel of Kilgore Trout's which he had only recently purchased. He knew he was going to die today. He always will, always have, and always will be dying today. Billy slowly brought himself off his comfortable chair and strode towards his kitchen. He pours what always would be, always have been, and always will be his last cup of Earl Grey tea into a repulsively designed teacup which had been given to him on his fifth wedding anniversary. And then his doorbell rings. No one ever visits Billy. But he is not startled. His time has come, and so Billy sips his Early Grey once more and proceeds to open the door. He remembers the two stories that Paul Lazarro had told him, and Billy finds it quite strange that he was going to suffer a death told from both. So it goes. None the less, Billy ignores Lazarro's advice on having somebody else answer the door for him when the doorbell rings. And so Billy opens the door, and a scrawny fellow holding a plate with what seems to be a steak on it stands before him.
"Are you Mr. Pilgrim?"
"Yes."
"Well, here's a free, juicy, 16 oz. steak! May you care to try one my good sir?"
"It wouldn't hurt to try one, I guess. No forks though, huh?"
"Sorry sir, I ran out earlier."
"That's fine. I'll just eat it with my hands." And so Billy does. He takes the steak and chews on it, ignoring the cold, metal texture that he feels and the blood spilling out from the sides of his mouth. As he continues chewing, the scrawny man declares, "Paul Lazarro sent me." With that, the stranger pulls out a gun from his side pocket and shoots Billy's pecker clean off. And so Billy falls to the ground. Billy curls into a ball and lays there shivering. And then he gets shot in the guts. And the neck. And in the head. In the next moment, Billy Pilgrim is dead. So it goes.
So Billy experiences death for a while. It is simply violet light and a hum. There isn't anybody else there. Not even Billy Pilgrim is there.