Being a scarecrow, and thus having no brains and obviously being some sort of self aware spirit, Scarecrow simply accepts being consumed by the monstrous alien and inhabits this new and more powerful form.

As a six car pile up fills a nearby intersection with flame, rubble and blood I trip over my own shoelace, narrowly missing a piece of flying debris that would have removed my head. Sadly though a semi tire rolls over my lower back, crushing my spine and rupturing the femoral artery in either leg.

You wake up with a massive headache and realize you were knocked unconscious when you tripped, and the tire crushing you was only a dream.

I am electrocuted when my toaster oven falls into my bathwater

luckily, your toaster is battery operated, and the change batteries sign has been on for a week. You feel a tiny shock. The really sad part is now your waffles are soggy.

I am jettisoned from an escape pod after being beheaded by a Sith Lord, crash land inside the Sarlac Pit, then vomited out of the Sarlac Pit, picked up by Java scrappers, sold to Han Solo, smuggled for a while until he finally dumps me to avoid being picked up by an Imperial Patrol, where I am then sucked into a worm hole, transported to Noveria, and eaten by a Thresher Maw. FML.

The new attraction at your local theme park ends. The realism, the sensations, the feelings were all just so amazingly real you actually believed what you were experiencing to be real. Unfortunately the ride ends, everything goes to darkness, the doors open and you are told to hurry up and get out to make way for the next customer.

I attend a Fancy Dress Party and was talked in to wearing a Bugs Bunny costume. Unfortunately there was someone else attending dressed as Elmer Fudd with a real gun in his hands. The person in the Elmer Fudd costume shoots me dead and says, "I finawy got that wascawy wabbit."

With a fiendishly aimed carrot and a snarky 'what's up doc?' the hunting rifle back fires, leaving Elmer badly scorched and Bugs, as always, the victor. 'That's all, folks!' Theme music. Roll credits.

A new super virus is spreading through the Gaming community, virulent, totally resistant to antibiotics, steroids, or exorcism and I find myself infected. I'm sweating, bleeding slightly from my nether regions, growing tufts of coarse grey hair from the palms of my hands, and developing violent tourette's syndrome. My worse episode yet happens aboard an international flight Detroit Metro Airport to Dildo, Newfoundland, Canada (yes it's a real place, look it up) and the antsy passengers assume I'm a fat, white, bald terrorist and swarm me. I'm beaten, tazzed, burned with a cigarette, and thrown from the emergency exit over Lake Superior.

Luckily, a boat traversing Lake Superior is towing a massive stunt jumping air cushion across the lake to the set of the latest Hollywood major action movie. Your fall is broken by the cushion, leaving you with only a broken wrist and a few bruises.

As I drive through the city, I find myself on the wrong side of town. Getting out like an idiot to ask a guy for directions, he shanks me and jacks all my cash and and my Rolex watch, leaving me to bleed out to death as he goes to buy another crack rock.

Lucky for you, a passing police car called in your accident and you were rushed to the hospital, where you were saved by the world's best surgical team. You'll have some scarring, but you'll live.

A puncture in the outer hull of the spacecraft I'm flying in has caused the cabin to depressurize completely, causing me to get sucked violently through a hole no bigger than the size of a quarter with the force of 800 Gs, turning my body, effectively, into a liquid as it's jettisoned through the hole into the deepest portion of space, where it floats aimlessly until pulled into the center of the sun by high gravity.

Your fat butt seals the hole long enough for someone else to effect repairs; everyone survives to make jokes about your new hickey.

I am stepped on by a miscreant giant misappropriating the neighborhood playground. Because of the injury to his hand, he is in a foul mood and grinds my bones to make his bread.

fortunately before he can crush you some giant lawyers come out. "This violates copyright laws. You are not allowed to have giants in the playground". Everyone is super sad because they were looking forward to diremage bread. They heard diremage bread is better than the regular mage bread they have been making and now everyone is looking at you dirty and readying their bonegrinders.

I go to a trekie convention dressed as chewbacca with a captain kirk head codpiece. I did not survive and my body is in almost a billion pieces from the rampant beatings and orgy of violence that resulted.

Thank God it was only on Second Life!

I'm now stuck in Folsom Prison.