Non Sequitur

A place for light-hearted forum games and other threads that don't promote discussion.

Dead Alive Dead Alive game.

A rather nasty death, malaria. Luckily, it is also very easy to avoid. A few weeks of quinine treatments and you are just fine. A little weak, perhaps, but fine.

I am not so lucky though. Nobody is capable of curing Ebola Zaire, and nobody can figure out just how I managed to get infected with it, but as with all hemoragic fevers, it is a painful, disgusting death.

Painful, yes. Disgusting, yes. Deadly? Only for 90% of the infected.

I, being the inquisitive but terminally inattentive person that I am, accidentally drink from a vial containing the product of a hot bio-reactor. Doctors are denied permission to treat me due to the classified nature of the bioweapon(s) contained within the vial.

It was actually cocal and Mountain dew mixed together. Your body and teeth hate you and you now have bad gas. Other then that you're fine.

I on the other hand am sitting on the couch when you fart. The smell is so powerful it kills me with a brain hemorrhagic.

But, what Ho! The couch you sit upon was one you 'purchased' from the side of the road, from the residence of one 'Mr. Coyote', and is manufactured out of acticated charcoal embedded within the woven material. It sucked out all the bad stuff, and leaves both of you smelling like the freshly opened box of Bounce laundry sheets and Faberge Lilac Air freshener. Lovely! You both jump for joy and leave to go together to a homemaker's convention to show off your newly acquired olefactory perfection.

Leaving me in your house to feed your cat. I can't stand the smell of nice things, so I go to light a candle. The activated carbon couldn't handle the noxious fumes and the flammables at the same time, and I am suddenly engulfed in Purgatorial conflagration, dying in a pinkish fire. Smells nice, tho.

What you didn't know is that your maternal grandmother was a phoenix (yes, your mother hatched from an egg, and that's why she never took your father home for Thanksgiving dinner), so you are reborn from the fire just in time to have to explain to the fire department why you're standing naked in the middle of the charred remains of MadHatter's apartment complex. Hey, at least you're not chewing anybody's face off.

I am working as an undercover agent for a multinational purveyor of laundry products. Trying to escape the apartment with a sample from the couch, I am struck by a structural beam falling from the ceiling which sets me on fire and knocks me rolling down three flights of stairs into the basement, where I am crushed as the building pancakes down atop me.

Aye, laddie, but crushin' is a relative term! Relative to a guy like Montgomery Scott, who's a' stokin' the dilithium fires of that famed steamer, NCC1701. The Enterprise shoots through one of their time-travel journeys, and just manages to sense the plastic whale alarm clock on Hat's sidetable. Thinking it's another of the beauties like what resides in the transparent aluminum tank in the bowels of the Federation's finest ship, he transports ya just as a ten penny nail protruding from the beam grazes your forehead between your eyes. Light scar, you'll have it for a few days, but the stories you'll be able to tell!

Meantime, the fire department dudes note that I'm far too anatomically correct to be human, and look on their scanner. A pic comes up of me, or at least a perfect doppelganger. One cop pulls his service glock, and I duck, but too late, too slow...Shot thru the heart...

But wait! Time lord, you sneaky guy. The second heart just keeps on ticking. And even if he manages to get both, you'll just regenerate.

I am not a time lord, and therefore I do not have a clever escape planned when the Daleks show up at my front door, shrieking EXTERMINATE! in their creepy 1970's-style metallic voices. A few blasts later and I'm history.

Except the Daleks are there to take care of the cockroaches, not you. It's rather interesting to watch the little bugs fluoresce and turn transparent as the pepper-pot-shaped aliens annihilate them. They charge a very reasonable price, picking up your check with a hand rather like a bathroom plunger, and head off on their way... though they do have to ask where the elevator is, since they can't handle the stairs.

I pine away with grief, knowing that Amy Pond is soon to leave us. I grow thinner and thinner, dreaming of her long red locks, and my voice fades away as it speaks of nothing but those short skirts....

You are discovered where you are then collected by an ambulance and paramedics where they take you to Hospital and feed you on Hospital food while they put all sorts of needles in you, inject you with all sorts of stuff and constantly take urine and blood samples. You are definitely alive but you're strapped down to the bed and unable to move as the staff perform all sorts of experiments on you.

I am one of the other patients in the room also suffering from strange experiments that the staff are performing on me. Having found in you a new test subject I am considered worthless and no longer of any use in helping with their experiments so they lock me up in a sealed chamber where I'm strapped to a bed unable to move. They fill the room with gas and then a spark is generated in the room causing an explosion that kills me.

Well.... It would have killed you, but all of the crazed experiments they subjected you to gave you the impressive ability to pull all of your scattered and charred biomass back together and re-assemble it into a functional human body. Unfortunately for you, your transformation has left you as a beautiful and well endowed blonde woman who is then abducted and sold into white slavery.

I, as a firefighter responding to the explosion, see your body-sludge reassemble itself into a beautiful woman and my head explodes from the shock.

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