Quinn quaffed a quart of quality quicksilver.
rouftop will die, ironically, in the basement of a house.
kasuo tried to buy the last Bob the Builder plush tractor toy at Wal-Mart for his nephew. Need I say more?
BellaDellaItalia got so wrapped up in her Christmas preparations that she lost track of time. “Oh, my golly! It’s past midnight on Christmas Eve – why, it’s Christmas, and I haven’t finished my baking and wrapping! What shall I do?” Bella became so frazzled that she accidentally wrapped herself in tinfoil, lit the oven, and baked herself in a pie.
Mmmmm… mincemeat pie!
Twas the night before christmas and all through the house. Not a creature was stiring, note even a mouse (not that a mouse would be so foolhardy as to invade your cat infested domicile, ETF). …
When you arose to find out what was the matter, you found a jolly old elf working around your christmas tree.
“Santa…?” you said not quite believing.
“Ho Ho Ho” he said as you lost conciousness.
They found your body the next morning amid an empty house which the robbers had completely cleaned out.
pervert, visiting the After-Christmas Sale at your local Victoria’s Secret was the worst decision you’ve ever made.
There’s nothing pretty about being strung up by thongs after you say “Hey! Where’s all the models?”
Blonde’s New Year’s resolution (yet again!) was to shed all those pounds she’d gained over the holidays. So (once again!) she signed up for exercise classes, and (still again!) started a gruelling diet – and I do mean gruelling; besides watery porridge, all she allowed herself was lettuce leaves and a handful of walnuts per day.
And large amounts of water, to cleanse her system and fill her achingly empty belly.
The trouble with drinking lots of water, of course, is that one has to excrete it. Urgently, at times. So it was that, one day at the gym, just after lunch of a particularly watery gruel, and several tall glasses of H2O, Blonde found herself in sudden need of a trip to the lavatory.
Unfortunately, she was ensconced in a fiendishly complicated exercise machine (designed to work every major muscle group at once, for maximum efficiency), and as she tried to slip hurriedly out (the bladder pressure was rising rapidly), she somehow became entangled with the pulley cables.
Blonde struggled to escape (not easy to do even when not trying to keep one’s legs crossed), but all her efforts only entrapped her more. Desperate for relief, she threw all her (holiday-enhanced) weight into one final effort to break free.
Alas, the overstressed machine toppled over, crushing poor Blonde! The rescue workers were unable to revive her, and indeed had to come to the aid of another gym patron, who’d tried to rush to Blonde’s aid, and broken his leg after slipping in a puddle. 
The bat that is in the “Bat in my Basement” thread, currently below this one, will fly up and give rabies to EddyTeddyFreddy,
It will do it right now. 
Never to be Queen: that’s what happens when you’re beheaded for treason… you are “never to be queen”.
OH, stop* guffawing!! Sheesh!
Damn italics!! I hate you… sob
Incensed by her obvious and vicious racial slure, SanguineSpider was chased through the streets by an angry mob and stabbed by many pitch forks. Her body was burned (they had the torches).
Later that week the Society Against Italic Name Takers released a statement saying in part that while they abhore violence of all sorts, they are not surprised that Italic citizens are finally taking action against an oppressive system.
I forgot to say that they made her stand at a 30 degree angle for several minutes first. Darn! How could I miss such an obvious pun! Darn, Darn, Darn!
pervert and SanguineSpider – ah, what a lovely couple they made!
A couple of entrees at the annual SDMB hamsters’ “Feast on the Afterthought Posters” banquet.
This is the story of 3 little pigs: Eddy Teddy and Freddy
The first little pig, Eddy, built his house of straw. But along came a wolf, who knocked at the door and asked the little pig if he might come in. Immediately receiving a negative response, the wolf threatened to huff and puff and blow the house in. And he did. He ate Eddy.
The second little pig, Teddy, built his house of sticks. The wolf appeared and asked to come in. But the second little pig denied permission, and the wolf again threatened to huff and puff and blow the house in. This time it took double the physical effort he had put into the straw house, but the wolf succeeded in blowing the stick house down. He ate Teddy.
The third little pig, Freddy, met a man with a load of bricks, so he built his house of brick. The wolf appeared, asked to come in, and was denied permission; he restated his objective of blowing the house in. This time the wolf expended three times the physical effort he had used successfully to destroy the straw house, but he was not able to blow the house down. But he did not give up. Switching to a mental rather than physical strategy, the wolf concocted a series of plans to enable himself to catch the third little pig outside of his brick house.
And then he said, “what the…”, went to the SMDB, ask some question on how to create his own explosives out of a household cleaners, blew up Freddy and ate the charred remains.
Pretty sad story indeed.
** Explosives
Expillowsives ** Nasty pillow fight
french frogs, you do know what the french do to thier frogs, don’t you?
It’s actually quite nice with a white wine.
Given the recent pronouncement on game threads - I say let’s
“Either get busy living or get busy dying” Stephen King
I choose the latter. Takers?
Okay, Blonde – you asked for it. Are you ready?
I’m feeling mellow, having just baked brownies, so I predict you will go on vacation to Hershey, Pennsylvania this spring, and while on a tour of the candy-making facilities you’ll fall feetfirst into a vat of semi-sweet chocolate. They’ll fish you out in time, before you suffocate, and clean you off as best they can.
You’ll insist on going on with the tour, redolent of chocolate, and when they get to the milk chocolate vat you’ll be overcome with the memory of your previous descent into the dark brown delight, and fling yourself into the vat headfirst. This time no one can save you.
On your headstone they’ll put: “What a dip!”
It’s unfortunate that you chose that particular moment in time to visit your local florist, EddyTeddyFreddy…reaching out to touch that beautiful rose, you are struck to the ground by an incoming FedEx truck. The driver apparently lost his way in route to deliver a late Christmas package to you (it was a bomb, so that’s just as well!)
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
ETF’s dead,
And so are YOU! :eek:
Kidding! You’re not all dead…yet.
Mods please don’t shut this thread down! It’s not just game…it’s a way of [death].
BellaDella’s thread took a great fall,
It appears that our deaths mean nothing at all,
We should have been conversing about Matrix #3,
Instead of pondering whose next death it would be.