The rules are simple: plot the demise of the next poster. Then whoever posts must think up a way out of it and plot the demise of the next poster. And so on.

Ah-ha! Now that >>2 is in that barrel rushing towards Niagra Falls, I can take over the world without his continual interference!

I escape by eating a bunch of meat and becoming fat enough to break the barrel and swim to safety.

>>3, who coordinated the barrel attack with >>1, will commit ritual suicide because of his failure to kill me.

Luckily, I was talked out of it at the last minute by the good people at 1-800-DONT-CUT!

>>4, as soon as I flip this switch, you'll drop into my pit of deadly vipers, and I shall be free to release my supervirus onto Earth from my moonbase!

Thank goodness, because at the very last minute your wife, whom I have recently seduced and turned from her evil ways using my rougish good looks and English charm, stabs you from behind and lets me down. We then launch the supervirus missile directly at the sun, set your moonbase nuclear power core to 'self-destruct', and escape to the ISS in your own personal space-yatch. KABLOOWIE!

On the way out, we grab your evil assistant, >>5, who we know was the brains behind the operation, and shove him in an airlock on the space yatch. Now, >>5, I'm going to release the outer hatch, and you'll be blown out into the depths of space!

But fortunately, I was sucked in by the Infinite Improbability Drive of another passing space-yacht, and am now living a life of luxury as the President of the Universe's personal boytoy!

Unfortunately my fluffy companion >>6, who is now a bowl of petunias falling through the upper atmosphere of a distant planet, had no such luck.

Fortunately, I'm a very sturdy bowl. And hey, look! Somebody is passing right below me.

Look out below, >>7!

Thanks to my new whale skills, I can swim through air! I think ill call it air... It feels so... airlike..

>>8 should watch out for the gigantic splash I make from landing in the ocean right next to him though.

Luckily a huge green fierce snake bars his way in the nick of time.

However, I will nevertheless carry out my fiendish plan to crack a fart joke so furiously noxious, >>9 will retch so hard his spine will come out through his nose.

But I happen to be a spineless coward so I easily evade the smelly attack.

Due to my rubbery torso I can twist myself into a spiral coil that suddenly releases all its pent-up energy, flinging my body with deadly accuracy and velocity at >>10

I try to avoid >>9, but my sad, pathetic body cannot move in time, and I die.

You see, >>11? This is why we can't have nice things.

Apparently I have no schemes to avoid. Thanks >>10!

This gives me time to work on tying >>12 to the minute hand of the town clocktower, so that as it passes 00:15, and goes round to 00:25, >>12 will slip off, and plummet to his or her death! How do you like that, >>12?

Thankfully, kind rescue workers were able to save at 00:24. That was really close!

However, I am not so kind. I gleefully push >>13 off of the ladder, and to his doom.

Luckily a wagon full of matresses was right below the ladder at the time, and I landed comfortably.

I then whip out my gun and shoot >>14, my life-long enemy.

I fall to the ground, but as you come over to investigate, >>13, I leap up and kick you in the face. The lid of a iron stove makes for a rather good piece of body armor, wouldn't you agree?

Now I have to go back in time and kill >15's mother before he was born, just to be sure he dies! (er, never lives.)

Unfortunately your travelling back in time resulted in the creation of a timeline separate from ours where you suddenly pop into existence in the middle of something else. For us back here though, it just looks like you vanished for good.

Thankfully that inept time traveller's doomsday laboratory contained a death ray, which I shall use to shoot >>16 in the back in a dark alley! (Yes, a gun would've done, but an impractical death ray has that much more flair.)

Too bad, the death ray jammed. That tends to happen with fancy-shmancy "space age" technology.

Fortunately, my trusty old knife has been my best friend for decades, and I am sure it will work quite well for stabbing >>17 here.

Sadly, your decades old knife is hindered by your decades old unskilled use in it, and you miss horribly, falling to your death off a cliff. :(

I've got a good old trained white tiger here to take care of >>18

Despite his commendable nature, your tiger is very old. His teeth have become dull, his claws don't fully extend anymore, and his poor old bladder makes him sleep most of the day. Escaping him is like a very slow walk in the park.

I crush >>19, the poster literally below me, with my enormous buttocks.

Ah, nice kitty. Even the best training is secondary to neurochemistry; a few drops of essential oil of catnip should throw 'em off the trail.

I apply them to >>19.

>>18-21 are banned for posting carelessly

I was on the far edge of the area of effect, and thus escaped with only minor injuries. Seeing as I'm here and everything.

After grinding down MODD's squashed remains and boiling off the water to make a fine powder, I have the perfect agent with which to poison >>22's junk before he has the chance to inject!

Being unable to inject, I decided to eject with my hidden jet pack, and am launched into the air, far away from the insidious >>21.

At the apex of my flight, I spot >>23, and ready my trusty dagger as I prepare to swoop down on my unsuspecting prey.

Fortunately, I'm in to that kind of thing and have built up an immunity to having stuff injected into my junk.

As an unfortunate side effect of sharing so many needles, I also have every STD known to man. I'm currently stalking >>23 zand jump out to rape him/her.

>>22 broke the thread, causing >>24 to get raped and contract HIV, crabs, and syphilis and redirect >>22's attack at >>25

All the flight training in the world can't save you from a well-aimed pistol shot.

>>26, however, doesn't have the luxury of a pistol. He's sealed in my torture chamber, which is empty save for six inches of water on the floor and two hidden speakers blaring K-Fed's new album 24/7.

Luckily, I happen to be deaf, immortal, and in possession of a Rubik's Cube with which I may entertain myself. Eventually the water damage unseals the door of the chamber and I make my escape.

I fear >>27 has died of old age by that point, though.

Though through a freak clerical accident, >>27 was frozen cryogenically, revived several hundred years later when a cure for aging was invented.

A second, also freakish accident caused the canister of liquid nitrogen that >>28 was leaning against to rupture.

Amazingly enough, instead of dying horribly when I was immersed in liquid nitrogen, my body mutated and and I gained the superpowers of enduring and manipulating below-zero temperatures! However, the indescribably painful experience rendered me an insane psychopath. For my first act as a supervillain I tested my powers on >>29.

Unfortunately for >>28, his ability to withstand cold does not actually effect anyone else and so I remain unharmed.

Unlike him, my superpowers are much more deadly. I focus my heat vision on >>29's testicles.

Too bad for >>29.

I slip the charred, AIDS-infested remains of >>29's testicles into >>31's Big Mac.

A horde of vegetarians rush through the store, stealing all the food, including my Big Mac, before I've had a chance to bite into it. I'm pissed off, so I fire a heat-guided missile at >>32, the leader of the vegetarians.

In a touching display of selflessness, one of my loyal cult-like minions lights himself on fire and runs screaming into the parking lot where he dives under >>33's car.

I was inside the mall playing DDR, when my car exploded in a shower of flames and epic destruction.
I use my finely toned wapanese muscles to find >>34 and kick him squarely in the face.

So, like, I was just hanging with my girlfriends and surfing the shops at the mall the other day, and some dude totally tried to kick me in the face! But just then the FBI showed up and arrested him for suspected car-bombing! I was so surprised I dropped my brand-new jeans on the floor, and now they're all filthy. It was a total bummer!

I was, like, telling this >>35 guy all about it just now, but all of a sudden his brain matter came pouring out of his ears. Why'd that happen?

Oh dont mind that, I just took a nice dip in some babypaste, its good for you and awllllright.

So all this babypaste needs to come from somewhere, and im out of babies, good thing I trapped >>36 in a giant blender.

Fortunately for me, I've previously been interviewed by Google for a position, and everyone knows that one of their interview questions is "If you were in a giant blender, about to turn on, what would you do?" I take off my clothes, and wedge them under the blades, causing the motor to overheat as soon as it's switched on.

Now, naked and angry, I decide to get my revenge by mercilessly strangling >>37 with my bare hands!

Which is totally cool for >>36, but I just put some more weights on the lid to keep it shut, and am now adding water into the blender cup by cup. Currently, He's (hey, >>38, that's you right?) gulping air at the surface like a fish, while my cupcount is at 376 (20cL per cup)

A drowning death? Luckily I have my rebreather stashed here as well. Eventually, the blender overflows and I escape.

>>39 is at my mercy. Tied to a table, with my 10,000 kW laser tracking up towards his body through his legs. Now, I need no information out of him; I just love to kill people like this. So much more classy than just shooting you, you know. Sliced in half by a laser, that's how you do it!

Too bad >>38 didn't pay the electricity bills on time; the power goes out just before the laser hits, and my sexy girlfriend bursts into the room and rescues me.

Now that we're escaping, >>41 is the only henchman standing in our way. Prepare to be killed by my karate skills, even though I have a gun!

As >>39 seems to be unaware that killing >>41 will not harm me in the least, I simply stand aside and let him do his work.

Conveniently, this will also take care of my next task, which is to kill >>41.

Since the bumbling duo above me wasted their one opportunity to team up effectively in an attempt on my life, I evade the first's attacks through spots that would've been covered by the second.

Working at the LSD factory has its perks, such as doping >>42's recreational eyedropper with strychnine.

I dostract the ants by throwing a jar of honey at my hated enemy, >>44.

I pour the honey on >>45 who is conveniently standing behind me.

Kicking >>44 in the nuts for acting so gay, I quicly run away in a straight line towards my van. In the background, I can hear >>44's anguished screaming, which is suddenly disrupted by the feasting giant ants. Damn right. After changing into fresh clothes from the back of my van, I turn on the ignition and drive off. Unfortunately, as I speed away, looking back to see if any of those ants happen to follow me, I fail to see >>46 walk onto the road from behind that building. Jumping on the breaks in panic, I hear a loud 'whompp!!' Figuring it is too late for him, I just leave him to die on the street, hoping that nobody sees my license plates (which I usually keep in the back of the van for safety reasons anyway.)

Gripping >>45's silly munchkin corpse by the ankles, I swing it around hoping to make a bone-crunching contact with >>47's spleen.

Unfortunately for >>46, >>45 had a bionic titanium spleen installed last year. Only one microscopic dent is left in his spleen. The contact jitters the endocrine glands, causing >>45 to break speed records while running away.

I push >>47 off a cliff because my demise wasn't planned, who drags >>49 down as well in attempt to get back to safety, causing both of their demise!

>>47 and I land on a soft mattress. >>50 is under the mattress, being smashed to death.

The impact compresses the detonator spring on my bomb belt, Taking out three floors and both >>49 and >>50.

Standing outside the mattress factory located beneath the scenic cliff, I am startled but unharmed by the explosion inside the building. However, the surprise causes me to accidentally unload my pistol into >>52, who I was in the process of mugging.

'Tis but a fleshwound, but I run away in pain, screaming, out onto the highway, causing a multi-car pileup as one driver slams on his breaks to avoid me, others swerve off the road and >>53-57 all crash their cars into each other, fatally injuring themselves.

Fortunately my so-called car is a decommissioned tank, which still leaves >>54-57 out of luck.

As >>53 was the lead driver and tanks do not have very effective brakes, he crushes >>52 into a gory mess under his treads. His gradual stop gives me time to swerve into the other lane, but >>55 was tailgating me too closely and slams into >>53's armored rear end at 80 mph.

My car only does speeds in SI units, and therefore my leisurely cruising speed of 80 meters per hour comes to a gentle halt at like a snail stopping to take a leak.

All this carnage is greatly distressing to old >>56, however, who was driving in the car behind me. I make his heart problem worse by leaning out of the driver side window and saying boo!

The "boo" scares me so much that I pass out. Fortunately, my quick-thinking granddaughter next to me takes the wheel and steers us to safety. Unfortunately, she cannot steer well enough, and runs straight into >>57's side, causing little damage to our car, but sending >>57 flipping into the tank.

However, my vehicle has an emergency eject button for times like these, which I push and go flying into the air, and land on >>58, a passing pedestrian, crushing her skull, but leaving me unscathed.

It's a good thing then that I wear several on a string around my neck when I'm out and about. Going to that voodoo school really paid off!

The fragments from the shattered spare skull fly in all directions at ludicrous speeds. A particularly large one goes >>59's way and stabs him in the coccyx, which according to this here sourcebook is a fa... lethal injury.

Luckilly, I'm Gump, so I just keep on runnin'.
However, I did have to drop the pre-WWI box of chocolates for >>61 to devour.

As soon as I lift the first one to my mouth, >>59, my ex-girlfriend, comes running in and steals them from me because she's such a bitch. She shoves a bunch in her mouth and laughs at me insultingly. >>62, who is >>59's current boyfriend, wants to get some of it for himself and wrenches the box from her hands and ingests the rest as quickly as he can.

I put on my robe and wizard hat, and cast Lv 99. Cock of the Infinite with >>62 as my target. Unfortunately, I roll a natural 3, fumble the spell and target >>64 instead.

Hi, my name is George Zimmer, the... whoa whoa, down boy! My cock suddenly grows even more humongous, crushing >>65 as it launches forth from my pants.

But I am riding a motorbike, so I slam on the pedal and speed wildly down the road, the cock crashing down wildly behind me and sending bits of concrete debris everywhere. "TETSUOOOOOOO!" I yell, hitting >>66 with my motorbike and mortally wounding him.

Unfortunately for >>65, the mortal wounds were really just items from a special effects studio. As I walk away, I flick a burning cigarette butt towards >>66 who is covered in high octane gasoline that was inside the fuel tank of the motorcycle.

Startled by >>66's sudden act of self-immolation in the lane just before me, I swerve, crash through the rail of the elevated highway, and fall two stories. Thanks to cutting-edge airbag technology and plush upholstery, I survive the fall with only moderate injuries. However, my vehicle landed squarely upon the bawling, infantile form of >>68, whose stroller was left briefly unattended by his mother.

Luckilly, I'm a Superbaby (That's why my mom left me ;_;) and I use my magnetic flux device to change the vehicle's falling designation straight on >>69's head.

Making all this ruckus beforehand, I was scared to death (well, nearly) by the goddamn hybrid japanese shitty car with cutting edge airbag technology and plush upholstery that I saw crashing throught the rails of the elevated highway, I was well prepared to dodge it. At first it looked as if the car would crash into the stroller of some baby, which was probably unattended for being so horribly disfigured. Then, seeing the brat doing some odd movements, I was hugely surprised to see the rampaging vehicle change its natural flight path to my general direction. Quickly ducking, the oversized projectile crashed into my cherished wife who was less fortunate.

Alas! my dear wife >>70! the last I saw of you was your frantic fight with the grille in which you had become lodged. Desperate of my unmanly behaviour (I should have protected you) I sank to my knees fighting the shock. The last I remember of this wretched day is that a burning man, I think it was >>66, fall over the railing of the elevated highway, into >>68's cradler and there embracing the wretched brat into a fiery demise.

The grille is made out of some cheap plastic/soft metal combo, so rather than hurting like hell, it simply wrapped around my head! I yell with all of my lungs: "THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING! THIS IS MADNESS!!"
Suddenly, a man in a cape appears out of nowhere and kicks me flying towards >>71. Luckily, I was wearing my secret water-filled bra!

It is love at first sight for >>72! >>70 may already be married, but >>72 cannot quell his passion for her grille-wrapped head and water-filled bra that is rapidly approaching, and so I kindly step out of the way and allow my friend >>72 to shoulder the impact.

As I make a passionate and unusually fast acquaintance with >>70's luscious buste (I'm rather shy normally), which lightens the impact considerably, we are both catapulted into my private pool. My considerate friend leaves the two of us be, as it turns out that >>70's bondage fantasies had never been satisfied by her cowardly husband. Thrilled by her captivation in the grille, she quickly persuades me with her gorgeous body to indulge in her off-ish desires. I must say, the poorly constructed car-attribute around her neck really turned me on and we did it like animals behind those bushes - oh sweet memories - still, I did not forget the rubber contraception. Always carry one with me just for these cases. It happens more often than you'd think.

Anyway, after the deed was done, I tied the condom shut and threw it in the bin shouting "Adios baby yeah!!!" Austin Powers style. Trapped by a thin rubber confine, >>73 looked up and saw the lid of the bin shut out the light. I of course couldn't care less - it happens all the time, and went back to my newfound lady.

As it turns out, >>70 is an extreme pro-lifer and, well, lets just say she made ends meet, and I was born eventually. You might wonder how I know all this, of course, my mom (>>70) told me all about it. And my dad >>72? As it turns out, my mother could not forgive him for throwing away the living semen, so she talked him into parachute jumping, and sabotaged his chute.... well I guess that was just it for >>74. I have such a crazy mom, right! hahaha!

As it turns out, I was rescued from the discarded condom by one of >>73's mom's zealous friends, who impregnated herself with what would become one half of my genetic makeup.

My terrible upbringing with a single utterly bonkers mother has, however, left me with an inexplicable rage towards those who've slain literally billions of my brothers and sisters in potentia. To that end, I've been poisoning the world's hand lotion supply with quicksilver, so that >>75 (who's famous for never having had "contact" with anyone but himself) would meet a sick, sad end in an insane asylum.

YeaH! its me >>75, uhhh... I was like, huu.. in this big house where they kept me and, like, but then the people that always made me go and play with the, uhh.. things, for the irk social therapy! stuff... uh.. they went away, so new people came. bUT then the new doctor is very nice, I think his name was ahm. uhm, yeah, wait for it, uhhhh... mr. naive treehugger. so he said I could be rehabiliterated sooo.... and then I went home. but my mom said, like.. its bad, and no she dosn't want me around. I get out of uhh, the big..... the bigg.. the big house, and now I wanna go back, mamma doesn't like me anymore. uhhh....

I'm gonna kill momma >>76 and go back to.. uh... the big house!
I have the knife, uhuhuhu, pretending I'm sleeping and she'll be so surprised hahhahaah, snort uhahaha. the big house was so nice and i liked the candy they gave me. Going back soon!

>>75's plan was totally transparent, given his idea of pretending to sleep was to stand there with the knife giggling like a mental patient. I mercy killed the poor, broken child with the last bullet from my trusty .357.

Looking at my watch, I realized I had but seconds to get to the Diabolical Doomsday Device I'd imprisoned >>77 in and pull the giant switch!

Wait a minute, you wench! that's my Diabolical Doomsday Device (TM)! and I'll not let you use it. Yes, the name is diabolo, and to make my reputation (providing platforms for sinful revenge since day 5 of the earths' existence) come true - I'll pit >>76=>>78 against her own son, who she brutally murdered with a dilapidated .357 (he very recently joined me, a very fine screwed up mind indeed).

Making the fight more balanced, I've put >>75 in control of a sherman tank aiming directly for >>78's sorry head.

STRUCTURED REPLY THREAD

Luckily, >>78 Has now died and leaves me free to assasinate >>80 using a sniper rifle from the book depository.

$HEADSHOT!$
while >>79 thinks he got me, I happen to now have a dislocated molar, and a hole in each cheek. Mission not accomplished. Unfortunately, while I thrash about in the book depository, I accidentally overturn quite a bunch of bookcases. I'm afraid that >>81, who was hoping to see the seventh Harry Potter book out already, got trapped under a castiron bookshelf, along with a dozen copies of Harry Potter and the order of the Phoenix. RIP, my boy, I couldn't help it sob

However, I have a change of heart and decide to support a small business mom-and-pop bookstore, instead of that of a large heartless organization, like the government book depository.

A few hours later, I string up >>82 in a gimp suit and painfully try to beat 'im to death with a baseball bat.

I point out to >>81 that gimp suits and baseball bats are decidedly not in theme with our Harry Potter roleplay, and we decide to play an erotic game of Quiddich instead. Tragically, the next day our third man >>83 is the victim of a tragic accident involving a magic wand and a mislabeled jar of what probably wasn't lube after all. He expires of peritonitis two weeks later.

>He expires of peritonitis two weeks later.

well, that was the rumour in hogwarts anyway. Still, I did get severely injured and was unable to handle my manhood without pain for a couple of months. Fortunately, I was able to get my revenge on >>82=>>84 by introducing him to the ancient torture method of "staking." For your information, that involves sitting the victim on a pole, in our case a broomstick (geez, we have a lot of broomsticks at hogwarts...) and slowly letting his weight bear him down to earth. If the stick doesn' puncture any vital organs during this (slow) process of coming down to earth, the victim can survive quite a few days. Empirical evidence supports the idea that taking a crap becomes a very difficult task, then again the victim probably is less interested in hygiene by that time.

Oh yeah, its a disgusting method, I quite agree. We'll need to return the broom and who do you think has got to clean it up? that's right, >>85! Meanwhile, its been two days and >>84 is still alive and kicking (weakly)

The broom I am being impaled on happens to be a Harry Potter vibrating broom, and turns on spontaneously, sending me into indescribable agony but also tipping itself over. I crawl to the telephone and attempt to call 911, but accidentally hit the self-destruct button instead. The house explodes, killing me, >>81, >>83, and >>85 who at the time was just a random passerby asking to use the restroom.

Clearly, >>84 is delirious, since if he were really dead, I'd be interested to hear just how he could've written on this forum. In a fit of inexplicable desperation, I cover a grenade with instant glue, pull the pin and lob it over towards >>86. I must say, excellent baseball reflexes, and he catches it in both hands. While I scramble for cover, I can hear the amusing sounds of >>86 first realizing what danger he has cought, then how he tries to get rid of it. hahaha!

"Cought" is not an English word, so I am safe! Furthermore, I use my grammar Nazi powers to send >>87 to the gas chambers.

Fourtunately grammar Nazis do not fill their gas chambers with cyanide. Instead they fill it with that chalky dusty odor that fills classrooms and libraries. And is fairly harmless, but does send people with test anxiety into a panic. Like >>88 who then suffers a heart attack and dies.

Its true, I really panic from test anxiety and could easily get a heart attack. >>87 doesn't understand he was using me as an example (typical case of not knowing what it is you're saying.) Unfortunately, >>89 was at those gas chambers, and she's suffering from the same test-anxiety syndrome that would've sent me over the top there. I can hear her gasping already.

I simply stared stupidly at >>90, because I had a stuffy nose and I couldn't smell ANYTHING! I simply had some trouble breathing in this stuffy hot environment. But it's OK, I had cold beer in my skirt pocket.
Unfortunately, >>90 is a very paranoid person. And a neat freak. And doesn't like being touched.

Whereas >>89=>>91 says skirt, I say tent, which is why she could actually put a beer there without anyone noticing. Its true, I am a neat freak. That's very annoying (especially for others, I know :) but hasn't killed me so far.

I see >>91 open her can.
The beer gushes out and squirts all around.
Beer everywhere...
on her clothes, the pig is giggling madly - I hate her
the beer even flies on my cloth~
ERK
MY CLOTHES!!!!!!

I remember totally freaking out towards the horrible >>91. I remember running around with a big hatchet and aiming for her skull. After that, I don't know. When I woke up, unharmed, people stared at me and said how horrible it was. Apparently there was blood all over the room. Still, it felt pretty good.

It was amazing! I picked up the pig and suddenly I saw an hatchet coming fast towards my head! I held the pig high up my head as the hatchet dropped down to my skull. Blood flied EVERYWHERE! I picked up the pieces of pork and I ran out from the door. Apparently somebody forgot to lock the doors! But then I saw the dreaded >>92! That BASTARD! I threw the pork BACK into the chalk chamber and set up a sign which reads "FREE PORK! DO COME IN! NOT A TRAP." I also set up a tripwire on the door connected to an atomic bomb.
I then ran over the corner and waited that bastard >>92 to get in!

Due to my fine Jewish heritage I am not even vaguely compelled to enter and receive the free pork.

However, Jewish or otherwise, I have no problem locking >>93 in a gas chamber for no reason.

Fortunately I happened to still be alive when Schrödingers cat was sent to check up on me and so I escaped the trap.

Meanwhile the head of >>94 explodes trying to bend its mind around the mysteries of quantum physics.

Aware of the mysteries of quantum physics, >>93 understands that by having made an observation about the state of my head (exploding), that state will have been changed due to the act of observing. Or in laymans terms: I did not die, and certainly not from an exploding head, although quantum physics is still very mysterious to me. On another note, I would like to comment that, due to the limited lifespan of feline creatures in general, Schrödingers cat has long died of old age since it starred in that bloody 1927 Kopenhagen convention.

Saving my life after a battle with a theoretical construct, and killing a metaphysical example in the process leaves me free to take the longbow I keep in my room, to practice my marksmanship on >>95, who I have conveniently tied to a pole to be an immobile target. With good sight, 10 meters from the target and a host of quality arrows, I'm currently aiming for his nose, and I already hit both of his ears, his left testicle (i like the scream) and the arrow in his right ear.

Although >>94 seems to have a grasp pf quantum physics, his grasp of knot tying is rather tenuous. Right before the arrow impacts with my nose, I slip from the bonds (already weakened by the testicle shot) and limp away despite >>94's whiny protests.

Alone at last, I send a coded signal to good ole >>17 (who hasn't been very busy since his cameo) to slit the throat of >>95, who is tied to a chair in his own basement.

With my mind powers, I open up a portal in the space-time continuum that brings my trusty servant, >>r1, to untie me and kill >>17 with his flamethrower.

Poor >>97, who just happened to be hanging around in my basement, is also caught in the flames.

As the flames burn off most of my extremities and engulf my torso, I scream in agony. My cries are heard throughout the lands, and sympathetic to my pain, a labor of moles digs a tunnel from the basement to a nearby river to keep to douse the flames and wash me out of the basement.

As a result of the empty river, >>98, residing in a village downstream, is unable to find any fluid to clear his digestive system of its extreme constipation.

Of course, being the resourceful guy I am, I've got ready-to-drink prune juice in my fridge for cases just like this. You never know, you know.

However, the pressure caused by an immense potential for a poop joke which failed to escape through the keyboard finally exceeds the amount that the trepanning cork's fittings in my skull can tolerate. With a great big POP, the titanium cork shoots off like a waxed bullet, severing the chain holding a heavy crystal-decorated chandelier in place directly above >>99's head.

Just as the chandelier is about to crush me, the power of 100GET flows through my body, and I mentally toss the 300 pound chandelier directly at >>101

( ﾟ ヮﾟ) 100GET!

I laugh as the chandelier falls on that moron >>99's head. Haha. Moron.

Now that I am no longer distracted, I resume robbing Mittens of her lifeblood, mittens, by burning them in a large underground facility specifically designed for the burning of mittens.

As a proud member of the elitist superstructure, I wholly endorse >>101's actions. I find >>103 distasteful, however. That is why he has just recovered consciousness from a blow to the head to find himself trapped in a dark underground chamber, wearing a mitten suit. And it's getting warmer in there...

Fortunately for me, >>104 is a retard who keeps on pressing the emergency mittens button. Here they come to my rescue. Getting pissed for being called out all the time, the mittens try to stroke >>104 to death fluffily.

I reach desperately into my purse and unwrap a packet of green tea Pocky, resisting the urge to eat it myself, and crush it up before throwing it into a nearby bottomless pit. Unable to resist, the sea of mittens blindly jump after the mist of crumbs.

The torrent of wool happens to wash over >>105, dragging her down into the cave with them.

I silently watch as my wife of 3 days is swiftly whisked down the bottomless pit. I didn't know getting that insurance money would be this easy!

However, I need a cover. As I don't know who to take revenge on, I blindly attack >>106.

I live. I attack >>107

It suddenly gets dark. >>106 is most like being eaten by a grue!

I whip out my lamp and I fire mah lazer upon >>108.

Today I am wearing mirrors.

Lazerbeam is deflected onto >>109

I die.

>>109's body is swiftly consumed by killer bees. Once the carrion runs out, their hunger waxes mighty and they attack the closest prey available, which turns out to be >>111.

and I die, stung to death.

As >>111 wakes up, he finds he is in a room fillend with a beautiful transcendent light. The room is large and >>111 seems to be inside some sort of alcove. At any rate, the wise old men that sit around the table in the middle of the room do not react to her. >>111 carefully looks from the edge of the alcove to grasp the scenery. An imam, a catholic priest, a humanist, a buddhist monk, a taoist scholar, a rabbi... these are the people seated. Their conversation, if there had been one, has ceased for a while.
"umm, excuse me, but would you mind telling me where this place is?" the timid question, although softly spoken, seems to boom through the chamber. The congregation looks around and now finally notices >>111.
"Certainly, my child," says the man.
"You see, us six have arrived one after another in this place, and since then we have debated all there is to know about the world. Whereas we haven't arrived at any conclusions we can mutually agree to, we did gain the understanding that there is only one relevant question that we need to know."
"Indeed," chips in the catholic priest, "To all of us, the question whether there is life after death has become of paramount importance to us." This question is followed by a silence. >>111 wonders what on earth is going on but maintains a respectful silence, because it seems not his time to speak yet.
"We have debated this for a long time," the humanist finally resumes. "A little before you arrived, we arrived at a severe impasse in our discussion. My name is >>112, by the way. And, excuse for our tardiness, but welcome!"
"Ah yes," the taoist monk says ashamed. "Wellcome! and my name is >>113."

At this point in time, the sages all stand up to shake >>111's hand as a welcome. It seems they have not had a visitor for a long time. However, as excited they are from >>111s surprising arrival.
"Yes, girl, you must understand," starts the rabbi, "Every now and then, visitors come here. However, everytime the number of people in this room becomes 7, this room is targeted by a tactical nuke from Iran. At this point the imam looks down at the floor, ashamed.
"You had better not be grinning, you bastard!" shouts the rabbi. Apparently their history of talking has not helped them settle religious, cultural and or historical differences. The rabbi and the imam begin a foulmouthed fight of words, then degrade into a bitchfight. Their white long beards fly this then that way, continuously in a flurry. Smiling, the priest contributes to the dispute with some well aimed kicks.

>>111 first looks amazed. Then she says: "Umm, but i just died. so why am i here?"
The rabbi and imam cease their fight and stare at her.
"Certainly you are not dead, why else would you be here? you are quite alive!" they shout in near unison. The taoist takes >>111s hand and leads her to the window.
"You know, the humanist, he always hides in the basement whenever the nuke comes. He is afraid of death. We on the other hand, are not, because we believe in our respective afterlives. That humanist has always argued against life after death, so he tries not to get cought up in it. Oh, that >>112, he will find the way one day or another."

"Now look," he says, and the other men gather at the window as well. >>111 has nowhere to go.
"Do you see that projectile rushing to us from far?" the buddhist proclaims. "That is the tactical nuke. If you look close you can see the ugly picture of Ahmedinejad's ugly mug on its nose."

And indeed. As the deadly device shoots ever closer, >>111 wonders how she could possibly die twice, and if she should not have joined the wise >>112 in the safe basement. Meanwhile, the taoist monk >>113 awaits the atomic deathbringer with open arms.

Rest in peace, all you fools. In death, after life, at any rate >>111 and >>113 are to die, and >>112 survives!
Amen.

I swing a magical leek and utter the ancient incantation "Yap tsup tsap parivic carilang lantik tarivil lanticht standoel la dipidapidol laroepa ti rupi rankoeri kankoek perkiri kang koe". Thus I confuse the electronics on the nuke, rendering it harmless for all.

　　　　 　　/＾7_
　　　　　　,'　/ /
　　　　　　|　　/／ﾍ-‐ '´￣￣｀ヽ､
　　 　 　　|　 /　 ／　／" ｀ヽ ヽ　　＼　
　　　三　 | 　 ／/, '/　　　　 ヽﾊ 　､　ヽ
　 ／　三 .L ｣　ミ{_{｀ヽ　　　ノ ﾘ| ｌ │ i|
Ｘ　／　　　|　| .ﾚ!小ｌ●　　　 ● 从|、i|
　/　 　　　|　|　ヽ|l⊃　､,､,　⊂⊃　|ﾉ│
　 　 　 　/´｀'Ｊ __|ﾍ　　 ゝ._）　 　j /⌒i !
. ―　　　ヽ.＿人::::|　l＞,､ __,　イァ/　 /│
.　 ― ミ　ﾉ　ﾉ:::::/|　／ヾ:::|三/::{ﾍ､__∧ |
　　　ミ （_／｀ヽ< |　| ／ヾ∨:::/ヾ:::彡'　|

Apart from >>114 who still has to deal with the heavy bomb landing on his head, nyoro~n

Luckily, I'm wearing the new Repel-o-rama Helmet 9000+, which deflects the bomb off of my head, but unfortunately it falls into the sewer, and the radiation spreads to the water supply, killing >>115, >>116, >>117, >>118, >>119, >>120, >>121, >>122, >>123, >>124, >>125, >>126, >>127, >>128, >>129, >>130, >>131, >>132, >>133 as they drink the poisoned water.

Thankfully, I have a magic water filter. I survive without even knowing about the incidents that took place above.

Must suck to be >>116-133, though.

For some reason people here believe that Iran is actually capable of producing nukes. They are not, and as such the device in the sewers is utterly harmless, saving me and all the people in my neighbourhoud up to >>133. Unfortunately, >>117 suffers from a reverse placebo effect as she totally believes what CNN tells her, and she dies from imagined radiation diseases.

>>118 checked my heartbeat and confirmed to me that I have radiocarcinemia just like the news said. It made me really scared and I coughed blood for days but then the doctor gave me a cootie shot and told me I was cured and that made me stop coughing blood.

But then the doctor turned to >>118 to check his heartbeat and found out that there was a bomb attached to his heart that is scheduled to explode in 30 seconds right before he ran out of the room. I followed him because he stole my lollipops and virginity and I wanted them back.

As >>117 rushes after the doctor to get his virginity back (good luck with that) I take a minute to get comfortable and ponder this unexpected situation. Finally I just shrug my shoulders and decide to find another docter. I really don't want to be treated by a quack who doesn't understand the difference between my pacemaker and a bomb. Intriguingly enough, the battery of the safety-device gives out just at the moment that the doctor assumed my heart would be blown to pieces. I replace it calmly with one of the spares I always carry on me for precisely this reason. At this point in time I begin to discern various small errors in >>117's story, which are mainly due to sloppiness. Yeah, >>117 should check better what he writes.

Unfortunately, it is too late for >>119 who tries with all his might to understand the internal logic in >>117's post, which is as I mentioned, slightly flawed. The massive mental effort causes an allconsuming braintumor in >>119's head, which will become fatal anytime now.

Fortunately, the tumor was benign, and easily removed, and after some brain surgery, I'm back to good health. However, because of this surgery I had to have my head shaved, and because I don't want to go around bald, I buy a fur hat, which required the killing of >>120, a helpless mink.

Sadly, the furtrapper lost his glasses and killed my sexy minx instead. This angers me so mightily that I perform a pelvic thrust of men's warehouse proportions, ripping >>121 asunder from anus to oral cavity. I guarantee it!

So here I am, walking through the forest with my girlfriend >>122, and all of a sudden this crazy little animal jumps on my back and tries to hump me! It was madness, the stupid little beast was crawling just there where I couldn't reach it with my hands and this thing going nuts on my back hurt like hell! It must have been a hilarious sight because my love just lost it, collapsing to the ground laughing so much... She also lost her breath completely but I couldn't notice because I was still thrashing about trying to get the mink of my back. Such a careless thing, why didn't I look back?

When I finally got rid of it (I decided to just fall on my back, that was enough but too bad for the mink) I found the lifeless body of my love, I found it on the forest path. I Shook her, softly at first, then more violently, I had to wake her, I just had to. Called her name in despair, my throat constricting with an unacceptable premonition. Insulting her so fantastically to get at least a reaction, blind with tears. Confessing my heartfelt love to her, yet no response, how could she have responded anyway? Dizzy, that dragging, nauseous disorientation, I can't bear to think back. So terrible, catastrophical, no one to help. No one, I lost.

I just ran. I ran away.

THIS IS ALL THE SAME PERSON!

Sadly the attemot to induce my suicide failed. But alas this might not last, as with poster >>123 harakiri is committed.

>>123 does not specify whom he pushed to commit harakiri, but it certainly wasn't me.

I should congratulate >>122 for being the most deadly commenter here: By means of attacking the very essence of this thread, he put at risk the continuing force here. Since every commenter acknowledges both the previous poster, and gives footing to the next, >>122's charge to the footing of all subsequent posters was a near fatal move. Not totally fatal though, thanks to me.

By the way, I am a Canadian Inuit with a club, it is hunting season, and >>125 is a baby seal that's just asking for it.

Fortunately >>124 realizes his error and reminds himself that, as we all well know, the warranty will be void if the seal if broken, and decides to leave me alone.

As I grow up I come across a lost russian atomic submarine and with some aid from the radioactive leak I mutate into the horrible SLOBGOBBLER. Swimming faster than the golf stream I swiftly descend upon the slob >>126 as he comes down to the beach for volleyball practice.

Luckily, I cleaned up from my slobness, and I happen to be a clean cut productive member of society today, so >>125's attacks are innefectual.

I idly start cleaning my gun, and Happen to spy >>127, my bitter and most hated rival.
I continue cleaning my gun and pay some hobo $100 to go kill him.

The hobo immediately blows the money on liquor, after which he expires of an alcohol overdose, so I am safe. However, while investigating the dead body for his own foul purposes, >>128 slips and falls on the shards of the broken vodka bottles, opening an artery and bleeding to death.

>>129 spots me, while driving to a cult meeting, and provides me with some bandages from the first aid kit, kept in the trunk, to stop the bleeding. I tell >>129 that I don't need any help getting to a hospital. After all, who am I to stop >>129 from attending the cult's final meeting (mass suicide)?

>>130 is a member of a cult-intervention group, which ties me to a chair beats me senseless until I agree to quit the suicide cult. However, at the exact moment I drive home to my comfy apartment, angry cult members burst in with bombs strapped to their chests, yell something like, "Durka!!" and explode, while beating >>130 senseless..

the cultmembers who were in the process of beating me senseless got carried away with me and forgot to detonate. The other cult members first tried to make contact, in order to have everyone detonate synchronically, but as high as they were on their excitement to finally achieve a goal (the first in ages, probably) they soon lost interest and had their own little countdown. Having the ignorant culties stand around me (beating me) was suddenly extremely useful as their bodies shielded me from the harmfull explosions, although I'm sorry to say that they did not come out of that comfy apartment alive.

>>131s penis is microscopical. As a hikkikomori he never goes outside his basement and he is master of bottling. His grades in primary school were never outstanding and his academic performance has been average ever since. As he secluded himself ever more from society, his influence over it has diminished from barely nothing to totally zilch. >>131 Does not want to share his opinion and that's why he adds comments to hundreds of stupid forums all day, as long as they have topics about mimiru-chan in it, so he can confess his love for akane-sama there. (Akane-sama is the eternal enemy of mimiru-chan, just so you know.) Noone cares about >>131 and he can't even masturbate.

While I continue to marginalize >>131's existence to nothing, I give him the opportunity for a last, insignificant squeek. Then, as his significance approximates zero, we will declare him dead.

As it turns out, the cause of my "Hikikomori-ism" was in fact depression, and my parents decided it would be appropriate to take me to a psychiatrist, who prescribed me some medication, and within weeks I became much less withdrawn, and before I knew it, I had started going to university.

Unfortunately for my online friend, >>132, my disappearance from the internet stopped providing him with the only support that kept him going, as we had so much in common. Eventually, he made the news as he committed suicide by jumping off the platform right in front of a passenger train.

However, I really didnt die, I just became a spirit detective, and I am now currently on the path of the demon >>133 , who will surely persih by my blade.

>>132 is weak. I ate him.
As for >>134, his sidekick, I let my minions have a little fun. One of them stuck at pitchfork so far up >>134's rear end that the pointed end came out of their mouth, ending their pitiful life.

I don't know exactly how to explain this, but as I was captured by the minions, >One of them stuck a pitchfork so far up my rear end that the pointed end came out of their mouth, ending their pitiful life.
And so they all died. An evil twist of misguided literary fervor, perhaps, although that pitchfork hurt like hell.

For some reason, >>133 thought I was the sidekick, whereas I am actually far stronger than my unfortunate partner >>132. Right now, I am out for revenge, >>133=>>135 wil surely die from my Deathonizer 3000XLM UltraPlus. (I can easily put it away under my bed when I'm not using it!)

Luckliy for me , >>134's Deathonizer 3000XLM UltraPlus was both made in china and used nonsuperior parts, and got REALLY grody by all the tissue and porn they kept under their bed as well, so when they fire it, it doesnt work one bit.

However, Nothing beats a good Home made microwave atomic bomb, which is set to go off at >>>136's house as soon as they use their microwave.

136: "Hey, honey, I'm coming home!"
LOVE WIFE: "136 should I put the steak in the microwave like usual?"
136: "Yup, set it for 30 minutes because that's how far away I am!"
LOVE WIFE: "ok" BOOOOOM

OH NO WHO IS BEHIND THIS PLOT! It must be >>137 trying to destroy my life! I'll slit his throat in his sleep.

(yes this post sucks ass. I usually write a lot better than this but i'm out of it today)

Luckily, I dont sleep lightly, and seeing that >>136 is "out of it", I easily escape his attempt.

Thank goodness I lived another day, I will soon get my revenge on >>138, who Killed my father ten years ago in a sword match before my very eyes.
I have honed my skill for those years, and now, it is time for me to get my revenge.
With a sword? Oh fuck no, theres far too much of a change of failure with that, I've been practicing shooting with a sniper rife, I hit him right in the head with a bullet from the rooftop of the building across from the chinese food restaurant which is a front for his cartel.

DAMNIT!!! now I need a new double! You little scum, I killed youw fathel 10 yeaws ago and now you want wevenge? come and get it, punk!

I owdel my loyal minions to suwwound the looftop on which >>137 is luwking, and let them have fun emptying theiw guns again and again to intimidate him. Unfoltunately, the sweet little clalk >>139 wolking thewe getted lipped to shweds. Oh well, that's life, isn't it?

We gotted him good aftewwalds, that bastald SOB >>137. He's "swimming with the concrete" light now...
...
...
heh. hehehe.