Suddenly.
Quick is best.
I just hope my remains are found before they stink up wherever I was living at the time.
This is why you should wear a bike helmet, kids.
Hey, me too! I’m going to be hit by a bus at age 87. If I stay in San Francisco, it’s a virtual certainty.
I’ve always known that if I go early, it will be in one of three ways:
- Gay bashing.
- Instant skin cancer. (The kind where you look at your arm, go “Oh, bother,” and then all your skin falls off. I’m VERY pale, people.)
- Freak library accident.
Spontaneous Human Combustion… (if real)
Considering my garage of toys, I’d like something involving an engine and a high rate of speed.
Karma says it will be something stationary and mundane.
I will probably die in a bar fight, instigated by one of my off-color comments.
Lightning strike I’m sure. Some day when I’m not paying attention and walk too close to a church.
I’m sorry, 'Mika. I had a bad feeling about my post, but I submitted it anyway. :smack:
Was the *you * sitting next to me earlier today in the computer room with the music coming out of your earbuds so loud I was going deaf?
Mice can kill y’know, and I have a very sharp piece of paper I can use on you too – a thousand times.
However I go, I’d like to go quickly and painlessly - I do not want a lingering illness.
But knowing my insane fear of falling, I will probably tumble down some stairs, hit my head on something, and lay unconscious in a hospital bed until my heart finally gives out.
After having a plate glass window dropped on me while walking down the street, lacerating off my arms, I’ll stumble over to a gas station where I’ll become soaked in gasoline after knocking a running pump out of an SUV and then ignited by lightning. Staggering out into the street I’ll be struck by a fast moving snow plow truck which will launch me high up into the air, right up into the blades of a passing helicopter which will fling my burning, armless corpse out into Lake Michigan.
The next day’s Tribune headline: “Did You Fucking See That?”
I think you just wrote the first death in the next Final Destination sequel!
Freak gardening accident.
Are you this guy? (third video down, Green King IPA)
*Off-color?! * why you racist!!! (Barfight between Autolycus and Kozmik) Kozmik dies; “Ted Koppel was right! White race conspiracy… must tell…” Autolycus’ number comes up. Bar tender; “Hey! Your grilled cheese sandwish is done”. Autolycus; “Mmm. Delicious. Hmm… I wonder why American cheese is orange”.
I like to think it’ll be homicide, and I’ll permanently injure my killer with an improvised weapon.
Failing that, I’d like to die by drowning.
What’s the Latin word for Dodgers?
Given my family history, I fully expect to die of some mundane form of cancer at a relatively young age. Nothing freaky, nothing strange, nothing dramatic. One day I won’t feel so good, it’ll go on for a bit, I’ll see a doctor who’ll refer me to a specialist, the specialist will make the diagnosis, I’ll go through horrendous treatments but to no avail, and I’ll gradual wither away. Another cancer statistic.
Sad, but unfortunatley probably true.
Then why go through them? Accept that your number’s up and have a high-quality shorter time instead of a horrendous longer time.
Me, I’d like to die at a decent age, peacefully and quickly, having had the chance to say farewell to the people I love.