You're about to be lynched. What do you do to play for time?

For reasons you can decide your own damn self, you have angered the local angry mob enough for them to come to your house with torches and pitchforks. After a brief, bloody siege during which you sorely regret ever losing your guns in that tragic boating accident, you’re dragged outside your house, placed on horseback, and taken to the nearest tree, from whose stoutest branch dangles a noose.

Now, being a Doper, you have not yet given up, of course. You’re working on a plan to free yourself, or waiting for a heroic associate to come save your ass, or some such. But in any event you need more time, so before they slip the noose around your neck, you point out that you’re due last words. The mob leader begrudgingly agrees, but tells you that you’ve no more than three minutes.

What do you say?

Goddammit, Silver! I said bring POSSE!
:smiley:

If it were today I would probably ask with as much horror in my voice as possible, “You’re seriously going to hang a pregnant woman?” and hope that enough pro-life people were down there that I might find a rescuer or two among them.

If they responded in the affirmative my instinct would be to say, “Well then I guess no one will ever know where I buried all that money!” and see if greed was enough to buy me a pardon.

Ask the crowd if an airplane can take off from a treadmill.

Dammit.

I can’t top that.

“You know, fellas, I really hate to die knowing that all that money I stole will stay buried out there and not do anyone any good.”

Since I’m presuming this scenario is real life and not a bad movie, there’s nothing you can do. You’re not going to change any minds at this point.

The lavatory is down the hall and to the left. Please vent your bowels there; it’s kinder to the cleaning staff.

“I’ve been a wicked sinner and I need some time to make my peace with God”. Given the number of technical sins I’ve committed, that should give me plenty of time, and I can always make up more.

A three minute lament about the treasure you buried that will now be forever lost ought to do it.

People are greedy. They will figure that they can always hang you later, after they find the treasure. Make sure you say you put it in an area only accessible in Summer (if it is currently Winter) or only in Winter, if it is currently Summer.

You won’t get hanged today.

Not venting; it’s just that when the noose is in the tree, the mob’s not exactly wavering, are they? Honestly?

I note the rest of the participants are exploring avenues that would give the mob incentive to waver by adding new information.

I’d be going with the “hidden treasure” act myself, especially if I claimed to have multiple caches. And I’d planned for this event (being a Doper) and had buried a chest with some gold in it nearby enough to check my story in a timely manner. :smiley: Too bad the rest of the places I’ve hidden my gold are several miles away…

Dude, this is obviously a thread to be silly in. I mean, the OP talks about a mob carrying torches and pitchforks, for Athena’s sake. Such are not generally seen in real-world locations that have broadband internet access. If you don’t want to play along, then why come into the thread at all?

Tell the crowd that given a year, I can teach a horse to sing. Duh.

You’ve not seen my users, have you?

OK, OK, I’ll play…don’t mean to be a spoilsport. I’d just say “You will be caught, you will be tried, found guilty, and punished. Then when you die, it’ll happen all over again, except the punishment will be far worse. If you’re fine with that, let 'er rip, assholes. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

Note: I don’t believe in god, heaven, hell, etc., but I’m presuming the slack-jawed douchebags do.

“What? Me? I assure you, my dear townsfolk, that the bodies that have been disappearing from the local cemetery have nothing to do with the unhol… I mean, harmless experiments in my secret lab. I am confident that the blame resides in the members of some other ethnicity, like, for instance, the gypsies who have probably been around town at some point. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Here, give me that torch! Let’s find anybody around who looks somewhat foreigner and kill them! Igor! Fetch me my coat!”

"Oh my God, behind you!’

I open my coat and show them that it’s lined with TNT rigged to go off if I die.

I remembered to wear that coat that day, right?

Obviously not. If you had it on, you’d have used it during the siege, and anyway, if you’re about to be hanged, they’ve certainly bound your hands.

I swear, I don’t know what they teach in school any more.

I guess I’d be concentrating on dying as well as Anthony Quinn did when he got lynched in The Oxbow Incident.