Quilboar
|
  |
| Joined: 17 May 2010 |
| Total Posts: 18911 |
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 12:51 AM |
A disease kills people in your town. So the US military blocks every way out.
You are in a trashcan. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 12:59 AM |
| Then apparentally I smell like trash. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 01:00 AM |
| Take the white pill under the table. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
Quilboar
|
  |
| Joined: 17 May 2010 |
| Total Posts: 18911 |
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 01:03 AM |
You smell like trash. You can't stand it anymore.
You smell like trash! It's mind-numbingly awful. The stench clogs up your nose as you tear up uncantrollably.
YOU SMELL. LIKE TRASH.
Your mind caves in with the thought of remaining in the garbage any longer. You bust out frantically, trying to inhale fresh, non-tainted air. It still remains in your throat and nostrils. You are choking. It's terribly painful, and you are forced to stab your wrist multiple times to stop the wretched pain. You fall into a pool of blood in the pavement.
The End.
"Smell like trash" Option did not work. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
| |
|
Quilboar
|
  |
| Joined: 17 May 2010 |
| Total Posts: 18911 |
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 01:09 AM |
@ferret
24. That's the number that booms in your head. It repeats, despite your efforts to flush it from your thoughts. 24? 24 hours. Maybe you'll remain in the trashcan for 24 hours, hiding from the wretched military.
You try to get it out of your head by smacking yourself with your arm. It has no effect. You thrack youself again and again. Blodo drips from your arm, and deformed face. You smack your face against the side of the trashcan, spattering blood and bits of bone from your nose everywhere. You hit yourself again, this time breaking your neck due to the force.
You slowly die as you become paralized.
"24" Option did not work. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
Ryan12349
|
  |
| Joined: 28 Aug 2009 |
| Total Posts: 1460 |
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 01:22 AM |
| well time staying in the closet is a good moment. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
gellick
|
  |
| Joined: 03 Oct 2009 |
| Total Posts: 11515 |
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 01:25 AM |
Get out of the trashcan. Go to my house. Develop a cure. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
Quilboar
|
  |
| Joined: 17 May 2010 |
| Total Posts: 18911 |
|
|
| 09 Oct 2011 01:27 AM |
@ryan
"well time staying in the closet is a good moment" echoes in your brain. It simply doesn't make any damn sense. It doesn't. It just makes you angry and confused. You begin to cry actually. It's horrible, rambled. You simply don't understand. Why doesn't it make any SENSE?! You begin to sob in your smelly metal prison.
Suddenly, you bust out of the trashcan. Several patrolling military personell spot you, and raise assault rifles at you from the distance. "End my life!" You shout desperately. They empty several rounds into your skull and you flop onto the skull-bit littered road.
"well time staying in the closet is a good moment" Option did not work. |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|
Ryan12349
|
  |
| Joined: 28 Aug 2009 |
| Total Posts: 1460 |
|
|
| 12 Oct 2011 08:50 PM |
| How about...... Peeing in a cup? |
|
|
| Report Abuse |
|
|