EddyTeddyFreddy loved fish. It was a fact if there ever was one. She probably should have joined a support group, maybe started a 12 step program, but unfortunately, she was at the fish market most days, and didn’t watch daytime television.
One day ETF was strolling to the fish market when she heard a rustling in the bushes. She stopped and looked around. Having not had any fish yet that day, she was irritable.
“What!?” she said. No answer. “Come on! I need to go buy out Fred’s Fishes’! They just got a new shipment!”
Every day she bought out all the fish in stock at the market, leaving no more for the restaurants. That’s right, ETF is murdered in an “accident” initiated by the president of Red Lobster.
BellaDellaItalia got married with her dream man, a gorgeous italian; smart, cooked exellent pasta… and unknown to her, was into the mafia.
That explained why he always let her start the car every morning.
That also explains why one day the car exploded.
Ale was an orchid fancier. No, make that fanatic. His collection of rare and striking orchids was the finest in all of Montevideo, but he was never satisfied. Always, there were more orchids to collect!
Every year he undertook a New Year’s expedition into the wilds of the South American rainforests, hunting down stories of exotic orchids. So it was that on January 1, 2004, Ale departed once again for the wilds of the upper Amazon, to track down rumors of the largest, most amazingly gorgeous orchid ever discovered. There were stories whispered of its size, its stunning structure (and its rank odor), but no one had ever brought back a specimen. Ale was determined to be the first!
The trek into the jungle was long and arduous, but at last, the native guides (who had grown increasingly skittish as they neared their goal) gestured to Ale to step past one last curtain of hanging vines into a sun-dappled clearing. He stepped through, and beheld, on a monstrous decaying log… the black orchid!!!Ale gasped with delight and ran forward to claim his prize.
And fell into the cleverly disguised, stake-studded pit before it.
The native guides cheered – another meal of long pig! They hauled out the still-twitching carcass, gutted it, spitted it, and roasted it on the spot. Then they feasted. “Mmmmm… Uruguayan, my favorite!” said one native. “Urp! I prefer Bolivian,” said the orchid.
This will take place, oh, I don’t know, two years from now.
ETF, upon finally reaching the camping site that the friendly Canadian park ranger had told him about, will sit to enjoy his time in the wild with a beer and a wide selection of erotic literature.
A short time later, he will be disturbed by a low, snuffling sound. Fearing the worst, ETF looks around, wild-eyed. A large grizzly bear will be hovering on the edge of his campsite, looking at him the way one tends to look at a T-bone (or, if you are a vegetarian, tofu).
Much to everyone’s astonishment (but mostly ETF’s, since he’s the only one actually there), the very large bear will stand on it’s two hind legs and begin to dance the hornpipe. ETF, who will be led to believe he has finally discovered the key to wealth and riches beyond even his own prodigious imagination, will turn around for only a split second to find his cell phone.
Police will later speculate as to who left the straight razor stuck in the tree, and why the small radio keeps repeating “Stuck in the Middle With You”, and where the fuel for the lantern went.
What, no one wants to predict my death? Fine, I guess I’ll do it then:
Having discovered the cure for everything, and after many other heroic feats, including circumnavigating the globe with a pogo stick, you live to a ripe old age of 412, before finally succumbing to a very peaceful heart attack while enjoying the pleasures of the Dallas Cowgirls.
Gfactor makes fun of a Riverdance dance troupe; the coroner said that the last time he had seen something like that was a cowboy killed by a stampede of buffalos.
Shrimp. No-one thought it was possibly for a shrimp to reach the light-barrier, they were wrong. But on the upside you were right never to trust anything that hits you in the face at near light speed.
The Gov’nah was killed during SanguineSpider’s search for her Lord of the Rings, CD soundtrack within the confines of her bedroom/oubliette. He was crushed underfoot (feet?) during her frantic and frenzied search. Things flew through the air, striking his crushed and dying body with great force, abusing him further as he lay dying on her bedroom floor. She never even noticed his demise.
Themes, you see?
I’ll break the rules and predict the death of someone other than the immediate previous poster (let’s face it, SanguineSpider has been killed so often her town’s running out of embalming fluid).
Abdominal Snowman: that’s the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders (not Cowgirls) - and have you ever visited Dallas in the summertime? 'Nuff said.
Or the spring and fall. You’re melting…!!! Let’s hope the important parts melt last, 'cause those Cowgirls are here, you know!
Party, party, party!!! Yes, it’s party time in the Death Thread!
Gather round, Blonde, Abdominal Snowman, SanguineSpider, Governor Quinn, The_Immortal_Mango, Ale, Gfactor, GrizzRich, BellaDellaItalia,, and all the others who’ve dedicated so much time and creative energy to offing one another.
For those who thirst, we have belladonna-laced punch, and eggnog with cinnamon-arsenic sprinkles. Or how about a hot toddy of strychnine and rum?
Hungry? Step right up to the buffet! Eat your fill of E. coli steak tartare, salmonella chicken salad, baked beans and botulin, pizza with pepperoni and ground glass!
For entertainment: machete and axe jugglers, a dagger-throwing act, and a motorcycle stuntman! Of course, with our limited budget this year, we’ve had to hire trainees. Step right up close for a good look as they go through their paces!
Have a good time, drink up, and up, and be sure to let the tipsiest ones in your party drive home!
Okay, SanguineSpider, Blonde may have had an aversion to killing you yet again, bringing your total to 348,923 deaths (hey, spiders have more lives than cats … must be the legs), but I have no such qualms.
On Christmas Eve, SanguineSpider, still basking in her wild amusement at EddyTeddyFreddy’s post, forgot just how high she had piled all her possessions in search of her beloved LOTR CD. She hee-hawed and cackled in delight, rocking and swaying on her feet, taking in the moment of laughter like a drug in what had been a dark, dark day of loss and searching. SanguineSpider hardly noticed when her hair brushed the edge of the stack of other CDs (stack is an understatement), causing it to rock and sway in sync with her. Then the inevitable. One CD after another started leaning just a wee bit too far. In mid air, a few even escaped their jewelcases, as if jealous of her love for the lost one. Who knew that CDs were sharp enough to cause decapitation?
After this tragic event, the recording industry was mandated to install bumpers on the edges of new CD’s and to recall all existing CDs that didn’t meet the new standards.
Governor Quinn thought he could get away with stealing SanguineSpider’s LOTR CD.
He got as far as Fresno before she tracked him down and retrieved her beloved CD, wreaking a terrible vengeance in the process. He had to be identified from dental records.
