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October 13, 2005

Volume 7, Issue 13

Rob Smith said "17 years old and killed by a soccer ball" yesterday.

The theme for today is someone getting killed by an unusual object.

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Comments

It was a bad day for everyone, especially Eduardo Haybiff. The day started hot and humid with that dumb dog barking at 6:30. The scabby wart on his head was bleeding again. The barking dog wasn't what got Ed to wander out of the apartment building on that fateful morning. The racket was being created twelve stories up. Eduardo could see a woman beating a futon mattress hanging over her balcony. Pop pop pop! "Stop making that noise!" Eduardo yelled. Startled, she lost her grip. The impact knocked his head clean off. No more scabby wart to pick at.

Posted by: Eric at October 13, 2005 5:31 AM · Permalink

It was a bad day for everyone, especially Eduardo Haybiff. Monday started out hot and humid with that dumb dog barking at 6:30. The scabby wart on his head was bleeding again. The barking dog wasn't what got Eduardo of the apartment building that fateful morning. The racket was being created twelve stories up. Eduardo could see a woman beating a futon hanging over her balcony. Pop pop pop! "Stop that noise!" Eduardo yelled. Startled, she lost her grip on the futon. The impact knocked Eduardo's head clean off. At least there was no more scabby wart to pick at.

Posted by: Eric at October 13, 2005 5:40 AM · Permalink

oops! The first post is the one that I intended. My finger slipped before I was done editing.

Posted by: Eric at October 13, 2005 5:42 AM · Permalink

I mean the second! The second one is 100 words. Aaugh!

Posted by: Eric at October 13, 2005 5:44 AM · Permalink

I type the story the first time into the word count box at the bottom of the page, and do all my editing there. Once I have the word count right and it's ready to go, then I cut and paste the whole thing into the 'Comments' box and post it.

Posted by: hnumpah at October 13, 2005 6:29 AM · Permalink

Fast Eddie was killed in a shootout with Taco Joe on Eighth Street, but the shootout ain't what killed him. As he was pulling his gun from his waistband, it hung up on that fancy watch chain he always wore, but that's not what killed him. He was trying to untangle it and stepped in front of a speeding Vespa, but that's not what killed him. He fell through the window of Sal's Pawn Shop, and the handle of the ladle of that fancy punch bowl set went through his eye and into his brain, and that's what killed him.

Posted by: hnumpah at October 13, 2005 6:43 AM · Permalink

The blonde swayed into the chapel, her black dress amplifying rather than subduing her generous curves. She stopped next to me for some reason and said, “I hate funerals.”

“Everybody does,” I agreed. “Did you know John well?”

“Just professionally,” she replied. “I was there when it happened.”

“Funny,” I grunted. “His boss said he called in sick that day.”

“Maybe he did,” she shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Then perhaps you can solve the big mystery. How exactly did he die?”

“It’s a little embarrassing.” She glanced around then leaned closer and whispered, “He choked to death on my diaphragm.”

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at October 13, 2005 8:05 AM · Permalink

>>I type the story the first time into the word count box at the bottom of the page, and do all my editing there. Once I have the word count right and it's ready to go, then I cut and paste the whole thing into the 'Comments' box and post it

Uh yeah, I do the same thing. Problem was I thought I was in the 'word count' box when I was in the 'comments' box and I clicked 'post' instead of 'count words.'

Posted by: Eric at October 13, 2005 1:53 PM · Permalink

“What’s that, Mr. Wizard?”

“Well, Timmy,” the old man replied, holding what looked like a wine carafe. “This is a magnetic bottle.”

“Gee!”

“Inside is one particle of ‘strange matter.’ I made it with a blender and some plutonium.” Mr. Wizard put down the bottle and turned to retrieve a Geiger counter he’d built from a cardboard tube. “The thing about strange-- Timmy, no!”

It was too late. The inquisitive tyke pried the lid off the magnetic bottle and reached inside. Instantly, his body converted to strange matter and exploded.

Luckily, Mr. Wizard was protected behind his papier-mâché blast shield.

Posted by: David at October 13, 2005 2:24 PM · Permalink

Silly Timmy

Posted by: Ted at October 13, 2005 5:55 PM · Permalink

“And after it went through his shoulder, he looks down and sees the blood. He looks back up at me and says, heh heh, get this – how’d it go? Um, ok, never mind - maybe you needed to be there.”

“Or not!”

“It’s always fun until someone loses an eye… or in this case, a limb.”

“Well Joel, sounds like a jolly fun time up until then. Maybe you’ll see it replayed next week on 101 Things Removed From The Body.”

“Well the way the EMT sounded, we’ll read about it in the Darwin Awards this year.”

“That’s not good.”

“Nope.”

Posted by: Hey_Ari at October 16, 2005 9:47 AM · Permalink