SanguineSpider: teller of tale tales; dealer of death to Dopers.
Who ever would have expected her to die at the ripe old age of 112?
In bed.
In the arms of a 27-year-old studmuffin.
Shot by the studmuffin’s girlfriend.
Eddy: who would have thought a paper cut could go that badly? Some people have all the luck.
Rotorhead, next March 17 you are going to wish you understood the following:
If you give the loan of your britches, don’t cut off the buttons.
The leprechans may be little, but they’re mighty strong.
The sign said ‘do not piss on the fence’, and you just HAD to be the show off, didn’t you?
Being of the female persuasion, it’s highly unlikely that I could ever piss on a fence!
You’ll be stomped to death by the Pillsbury Dough Boy on May 23, 2005, professorbiscuit.
Blonde not only peed on the electric fence, she licked the frozen pole in the middle of a blizzard! Her frozen remains are still on display, hurry and see!
SanguineSpider. Tragically crushed by a panicked woman wielding a rolled-up New York Times Arts & Leisure section.
The good news, Fionn, is that you’ll win an internationally recognized award.
The bad news is that it’s a Darwin Award.
Ah, Fionn, surrounded by books. Yet another truckload arrives, and is added to the tottering piles.
And they totter.
And they shimmy.
And the very topmost book in the very tallest pile slips just that last fraction of an inch, and tumbles toward the oblivious reader; and the next one follows, and the next, and the next…
Ah, but what a way for a bibliophile to go!
And Gyrate is blamed for Fionn’s untimely demise – why else would all those books have started shaking, if it weren’t for his antics on the floor above poor **Fionn/b]? He’s innocent, but the glares and pointing fingers unseat his reason, and he flings himself into a vat of bindery glue.
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…(stop me if this has been done before…oopps! too late.) there was a little girl named Eddy. Or Teddy, perhaps Freddy. It’s not relevant to the story, so let’s move on, shall we?
Eddy loved climbing trees more than anything in the whole world! In fact, once she grew up, she swore she’d put up a treehouse in her backyard, and damn the cost. A fine treehouse it would be, hardwood floors inside, a fireplace and windows overlooking the bay.
There was only one problem: the second beam leaned a bit to the right, and this was simply not going to do.
But, anyway - ETF was run over by the postman on December 24, 2003.
Blonde will die by choking on a lollipop in the cafeteria of her local community college. She will be trying to seduce her English Lit professor who, although is one sexy, older fella, will be oblivious to her vibes and so she will try to put out more telltale signs such as slurping on a sucker right in front of him with a come-hither stare and pouty red lips.
It doesn’t work and so rather on the frustrated side, Blonde breathes in deeply to sigh in a peevish manner and that, ladies and gents, is when said sucker is breathed in deep, obstructing her trachea and thereby ending the poor chica’s life.
Now class… what have we learned here?
Close…it was my Honors English teacher at SMU. Didn’t work, dammit. Good one, Ms. Spider!
Thank you, Blonde! How very eerie that I even thought of it, eh? I could have written so many other kinds of death. I must have powers… unearthly powers of deduction or even ESP. Did I read your mind? Perhaps, Blonde… perhaps.
No Blondes were harmed in the creation of this post…
You cannot kill a Blonde. Life rule #17, paragraph 3.
Rule #18 has something to do with spiders and a flyswatter…:eek:
Blonde and SanguineSpider get to chatting and discover they have much in common. Their rapidly blossoming friendship has them so in thrall, in fact, that they don’t notice a huge moving van barrelling down the road toward them! :eek:
At the last possible instant, it veers away and misses them, but the violence of the swerve rips open the back doors, and the entire contents of a college freshman’s dorm room hurtles out, burying them in unwashed laundry, brick-and-board bookcases, lamps plucked from trash piles, high-powered stereo systems, and rolled-up posters.
It takes the rescue squad over an hour to dig them out, by which time it is, alas, too late.
EddyTeddyFreddy died laughing at this website:
http://www.babeswithblades.com/the_real_babes.htm
She died with a smile at least!
Alas, poor SanguineSpider! Fired with enthusiasm by the Babes With Blades site, she attempts an intricate flourish with a broadsword (wink wink nudge nudge) and slices off all her legs on one side. Since that side happens to be standing on the edge of a cliff…
EddyTeddyFreddy was desperate to find a website funnier than SanguineSpider’s. So desperate, in fact, that she ran a search on Google. She didn’t find anything. But there was an interesting-looking website on bizarre almond growth. KNowing she couldn’t use it, ETF clicked it anyway.
Whoa. EddyTeddyFreddy had never seen anything like it before.
This wasn’t just interesting, it was enthralling! EddyTeddyFreddy looked for hours. Days. Finally after the third straight day of looking at the website, the phone rang. Annoyed at the interruption, she picked up the phone.
“What!” she barked.
“EddyTeddyFreddy? It’s Blonde.”
“Blonde, I’m busy right now. You’ll have to call back later!”
And she hung up.
EddyTeddyFreddy took the phone off the hook and resumed looking at the website. She looked at it for another week, breaking only to eat and use the bathroom. Then the doorbell rang. Furious, EddyTeddyFreddy stormed up and flung the door open. “I’M BUSY!!!” she screamed and slammed the door shut.
The same thing happened two more times that week, the second week she had been on that website. EddyTeddyFreddy got angrier and angrier. Finally, she realized that she was exhausted. She was very annoyed to be torn away from her website, but she did have that bit of rationale left that she needed sleep. So she went upstairs, shut out the lights and went to sleep.
EddyTeddyFreddy never woke up. She died of carbon monoxide poisoning, which the hackers on her website had pumped into her house after using her IP address to find her home address. Her ADT person, Blonde had tried to warn her, but her phone was off the hook and she had only slammed the door in her face when she knocked.
All for bizarre almonds.
BellaDellaItalia wanted to see the tree at her local mall…as it happened, it was a massive one, 100 ft. tall, surrounding by an ice-skating rink! Whoo-hoo - let’s go skate, shall we?
After being thrown to the (hard) ice surface by 1,000 small children who could skate much better, BellaDellaItalia decided to call it a day and go shop in the mall.
As she took the iceskates off her feet, she noticed a minute cut on her right small toe. “Damn!” she thought…“how will I wear those bad-ass f**k-me boots now!” Peeling off the other sock, she noticed that…her left foot was well, pretty much gone. She had neglected to notice the tiny monsters living in the ice skates.
Bella, Bella, skates poorly on ice,
We’re so sorry that your death isn’t pretty and nice.