Chokes to death on a mini-marshmallow.
Thoroughly cleans out a bottle of household bleach and fills it with Mountain Dew to play a joke on his friends in the other room.
He runs into the room where his friends are, uncaps the bottle of “bleach”, tells them ” I can’t take it anymore! GOODBYE, EVERYONE!” and wraps his lips around the mouth of the bottle.
The Mountain Dew is so riled up from all the commotion that the gas pressure immediately blows his eyes from their sockets.
Instead of seeing the looks on his friends faces he sees a painful and confusing stream of images from multiple directions as his bulge out from the muscles behind them.
His scream blows first into the bottle and then out into the room as the bottle goes rocketing away, propelled by carbonated agony. It strikes the wall opposite and knocks down the decorative katana blade that was hanging there.
“MAKE HIM STOP!! OH GOD MAKE HIM STOP!” cries out one of his friends, unable to process what’s going doing, not wanting to or else he’ll go as mad as the sight before him. Said friend grabs the decorative katana blade off the floor and beheads his screaming, fizzing friend.
Just because I can see into the future and will never again know the little gift your people call “surprise”, I see no reason to take all the joy out of the decedents-to-be finding out some of the details on their own, so I’ll just give a little information on this particular death and leave the rest for these two guys experience.
Basically, one of these guys a few years from now, suffocates on the other guy’s ass-cheeks.
It’s not at all as sexy as it sounds, and is, in fact, one of the most unpleasant deaths I have ever foreseen.
One thing I can’t help but mention is the fact that when they’re both found, one dead one alive, the survivor is asked why he is still sitting bare-assed atop the corpse. He can’t get up, it turns out. He’s been sitting on his friend’s dead face long enough to have fused to it, ass-cheek and friend-face grown together at the skin.
Eventually you either tell people the truth after they begin asking enough questions or you just move to another town, and when he finally dies it’s partly out of exhaustion from doing the latter.
A lifetime of doing odd jobs here and there, taking what he can get to survive on the go, never really sticking around long enough to be understood but long enough to know that each place could be a home to him in any other world.
Where his penis should be is a parasitic twin that looks like an infant. For all intents and purposes it’s just flesh and strangely cartilaginous bone, kept living tissue by his own fully grown body, but utterly devoid of a mind.
In the end, he was relieved. Relieved to not have to explain why someone couldn’t hold the baby he was constantly carrying, relieved to not have to explain how sometimes the baby would just swell up and appear to jut out straight from his pelvis.
Once, only once, did he tell anyone the truth, and he wasn’t even sure the woman really understood. He was working as a janitor at a train station where a woman had fallen onto the tracks, her legs severed just below the knees.
As they were wheeling her off towards the ambulance, he ran alongside her gurney, leaned in and whispered “My baby is actually a parasitic twin where my penis is and I dress it up in baby clothes so nobody will notice. I once tried masturbating with it when I was twenty four and it was the most horrific day of my life.”
The woman, dying, seemed to come out of her delirium for just a moment to say “What the fucking shit?” before lapsing back into her moaning and sputtering.
This time he takes the job not for the money but for the plan. He knows he wants to die, but wants to be certain he’s not discovered, even in death, doesn’t want to be a freak.
A few other baggage handlers notice him walking away from his cart, heading towards one of the jet engines.
“GET AWAY FROM THAT JET ENGINE WITH THAT BABY!” someone cries out to him, marveling that he’d even be allowed to work with that baby always in his arms.
Of course, he doesn’t want to get away, and soon enough the air intake does the rest of the work for him sucking him in and blasting him out like a giant salad shooter for people that like salad made from people.
Before stepping onto the machine’s A-Pad, so called for the machine’s acting as the point A in the A to B process of what sounds like a fairly straightforward time travel device, she recalls the scientists explaining the manner in which the system works.
She listened as best as she could considering the incredible situation she was finding herself in, but most of it didn’t really sink in, especially the part about how time travel only seemed to work if you yourself, in the past, were the B portal through which your present self could enter the past.
“Portals and past selves and all sorts of craaaazy stuff, huh?” is all she says to the scientists when they have finally stopped talking. All she’s really thinking about is wanting to go back and tell her younger self all the things that might help her out. Also, she misses dolphins and never got to pet one.
One thing she DID catch was that speaking to her older self would be inescapable considering how this time travel business actually worked, so no worries there.
Seconds later she’s somewhere dark and terrible, and the somewhere is screaming, and it’s a familiar sounding scream. It’s the sound of HER screaming, only she’s not screaming, not at first anyhow.
It’s when her head pushes out of her own, younger vagina that she begins to scream, and so they’re both screaming, she’s both screaming, and for a millisecond she remembers this happening, only not in the traditional sense of remembering. It’s like the memories are being installed, newly written to her memory and there’s a feeling like going mad.
She tries to cover her ears to stop the screams from the other, younger her from hurting her ears but her arms are still inside, trapped by her younger flesh. She remembers with these new memories feeling the pain was too much and remember feeling that it was all too much and that she is about to die.
And then she dies, half born from her own self.
After that they just went with the time travel machine that didn’t work like that. Cleaner.
Chokes to death on a blue Dildo.
The dildo itself is a bit of paraphernalia from back when the movie Avatar was still a popular enough reference to make porno parodies of it. He finds it in an antique shop and manages to convince the reluctant owner to part with it, but not before the owner issues a warning.
Anyone who buys the dildo, chokes to death on the dildo.
As he walks out of the store with what he thinks is gonna be a hilarious gag gift for a friend, he laughs just mentally organizing the story he’s gonna tell everyone about the bizarre encounter with the store owner.
“Choke on the dildo…” he says out loud, still giggling, but then he remembers maybe the guy was actually quoting Avatar. It’s been a long time since he’s seen it, but yeah, yeah, he thinks that’s something one of the characters says during the climactic battle at the end. Still, it’s pretty funny.
He doesn’t even make it halfway to the subway before he’s jamming the ridiculous blue thing down his throat, his eyes bulging with terror and confusion, the shopkeeper’s words just going round and round in his head.
How did the shopkeeper avoid the curse? Did someone GIVE him the dildo? He did say you choke on it if you BUY it, so maybe that’s how it works. Why the fuck would the shopkeeper sell it to him then? Why not just give it to him for free if he was so reluctant to sell it in the first place? Was he reluctant because he didn’t want to be responsible for another person’s death? Seriously, just what the fuck is up with all of that? At least in Gremlins the old shopkeeper has the Mogwai stolen from him. That old man was trying to be responsible, even if his security was seriously lax.
As he tries to remember the little song Gizmo always hummed in that movie, he dies, slumped against the wall of a closed down bodega.
He’s left untouched by passersby who assume he’s yet another homeless dildo addict, but the shopkeeper shows up, and the shopkeeper knows what he is. The shopkeeper just shakes his head sadly, and pulls the dildo from his mouth and vanishes into the night.
Though it has nothing to do with his actual process of dying, it’s worth noting that by the time people realize he’s dead, an alley cat has eaten one of his eyelids off.
It starts as a joke at first, this thing where he only eats at weddings and then only eats wedding CAKE.
When, at weddings, friends notice he’s not looking so good, when they notice how desperately he eats the cake when it’s finally served, they start to wonder if maybe it isn’t so much of a joke anymore.
He tries playing matchmaker to strangers, pleads with them to fall in love or at least learn love one another. He frightens people away more than anything else with this mad-eyed approach of his.
By his mid forties, most of his friends, the ones he has left, are already married, and it’s getting harder for him to crash weddings of people he doesn’t know because it’s harder for him to look like a regular person.
Behind his back people who know him call him “The Cake Gollum”.
Some try to help him, they bring him wedding cakes from the bakery, and he tries, he tries to keep it down, but it all just comes back up.
“IT HAS TO BE FOR A REAL WEDDING!” he hisses at one point, running out into the streets, crying, his dirty, cake-sticky suit marking him as one who has become unhinged from the world of regular people. He knocks over a police officer as he runs in search of a wedding, but only howls miserably at him.
Years on the police officer would still recall exactly that sickening smell of old cake that blasted out of the lunatic’s mouth.
He runs from the police officer, but not for long. The first bullet enters his back, collapsing his right lung. The second takes his leg out from under him.
As the crowd forms around him, watching him transform back into the man he used to be as he’s dying, the officer pushes through and rests a hand on his brow.
“Rest now, friend. It’s over now.” says the officer, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Cake. I need cake…” says the dying man, his hands scrabbling in the air.
The officer fires another bullet into the man’s brain, and the smell that fills the air is immediately nauseating. There’s more cake in there than brains anymore.
As the man lays there, everything going dark, he hears another officer talking to the cop that just shot him. ”Leave it, Sam. It’s Caketown.” he says, and then there’s just darkness.
Mauled to death by a furry while squatting in a condemned Arby’s.
It’s been decades since the Arby’s chain of restaurants all shut down, but there’s actually still some of the old decor left in this particular one. Square burger patties never stopped being a weird thought to her.
Square burger patties. That’s what’s going through her mind when the furry smashes through the garbage she piled up in front of the entrance to alert her to any intruders.
It alerts her alright, but it does no good as the intruder, wearing a turtle costume, a turtle costume only it’s hairy, is on her in a flash.
He has her pinned to the floor when he pulls his turtle head off, revealing he has the head of an actual turtle. Unlike the fake head he throws to the trash littered ground, this turtle head of his is expressive, animated by grief and madness.
“YOU DID THIS TO ME!” the turtle man abomination cries out at her, flecks of putrid smelling saliva spattering her face.
She knows she did this to him. She’s been running for years now, fleeing her work as a geneticist for one of the world’s leading abomination makers.
“This is only right.” she thinks, and he sees something in her face, some understanding that what he, the turtle monster is about to do, is okay. Everything’s okay and has been leading up to this.
“Square burgers.” she thinks. This whole fucking world has been square burgers.
At the age of 85, asks one of his grandkids, the youngest, to pull his finger. This is a thing he’s been known to do, and by now nobody thinks it’s too funny, but they humor him because it’s grampa and it seems to make at least him laugh.
The kid does pull his finger, more dutifully than out of any sense of suspense. ”Oh, alight, grampa. I wonder what’ll happen.” the kid says, the rest of the family in the room groaning already.
His finger dislocates this time, actually sagging off the hand once the kid lets go, but that’s not the worst of it. Immediately after the sound of his finger breaking, a weak, brittle sound like someone snapping a saltine cracker in half, the old joke goes somewhere new as his entire rectum seems to explode out from his anus, beginning as a fart and ending with his pants slumping down around his ankles from the weight of everything dumped into them, intestines and something that looks like a rib.
The entire room is screaming, of course, and he’s suddenly very scared. ”Not like this.” is the last thing that goes through his head.
It happens in a mall food court and she’s by herself, aside from a food court full of panicking strangers.
“I didn’t live this long just to be taken down by an escaped zoo-rhino.” she says to nobody in particular after a life of constantly narrating her life out loud to an increasingly weary and diminishing group of friends.
She doesn’t want to be remembered as that lonely spinster who always talked to herself. She wants to be remembered as that badass old lady who rescued a toddler from being trampled by an escape rhino.
The rhino is advancing on the kid, so she has to act fast. She waves her arms just like she remembers that guy doing in Jurassic Park to that T-Rex. ”Hey! Over here!” she calls out to the furious animal, winking to the kid to let her know everything’s gonna be alright.
She gives the kid a thumbs up and smile, hoping she looks like she’s got everything under control. She doesn’t know the kid’s thinking the old lady’s trying too hard. I mean, the wink was enough, but now a smile and the thumbs up. It’s not like it was all at once, either. It was three things, weirdly timed, staggered so that it was like the old lady was a robot or something.
While the kid’s thinking this, the lady is gored through her stomach, lifted up off her feet by the thing’s massive head and rammed into the hot dog place clear on the other side of the food court.