Raping the Golden Goose.
Yes. A friend of mine.

I saw the transition too. 415 Volts, Faulty equipment and a wet environment. But I'm not going to write another word about it.

I write to entertain. I don't write to bleed my soul dry and expose the soft underbelly of deeply traumatic experiences that cause nightmares. I'm not a little Story-puppet.

What's the next QOTW going to be people?

-Been Raped? Tell us all about it!!

-Lost a loved one in a gruesome way? Go on... We want to know if you were close enough to smell the intestines.

Get a fucking grip on yourselves you morbid bastards.

Seriously... one lovely bloke tells his story of heartbreak and loss, people offer sympathy and compassion, and you guys sit there, steeple your fingers and go "hmmm... people like that one... let's get another heartstring-pulling QOTW up there."

Symptomatic of the same depraved journalists who knock on the doors of families who've just lost a member in a horrific way... or try to make rape victims re-live their ordeal for the tabloids.

I'll look in vain for a good QOTW. Until then, even Facebook is more rewarding.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Sun 2 Mar 2008, 13:09, 28 replies)

my half brother
was at his grandad's bedside when he died in hospital after a huge heart attack. ironically he'd been told by the doctor the very day before that he was in great shape for an 80 year old.

jay was about 11 at the time and he was with his mum. after the doctor had been in to certify the death, jay and his mum went back in to pay their last respects. at the bedside, jay's mum remembered that she had left her handbag in the waiting room and went to get it. just at this point, two nurses came in to move the body. as they picked him up, jay's grandad's mouth opened and, like every creepy scooby doo monster that's ever been on tv, groaned:

mwaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

jay said he very nearly shat himself on the spot. the nurses told him it happens sometimes as the last breath gets pushed out past the vocal chords, but nonetheless he had nightmares for about 3 weeks...

as for me, well, i admire the people who've been able to share their very personal stories on here, it's something i could never do (no doubt to everyone's relief!). so i'll just say yes, i have, she was the best mother in the entire world, and it was 40 years too soon for any of us, but especially her. so those of you who can, i hope you're having fun spoiling your mums rotten today and that they are enjoying it too. and those in the same boat as me, esp workboresme as it's so recent, i hope you're ok.

god, even i've gone touchy-feely this week, bloody hell!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 12:07, 2 replies)

autopsy tales
I've seen many many many dead bodies (I'm a nurse, not a serial killer [although I understand the two are not mutually exclusive...]). There's always the ones that stick in your mind though. When I was a student I watched an couple of autopsies. One of them was a man who'd jumped out of an 18th floor flat. He was quite messy and although his eyes were shut at the start, they opened very slowly on their own over the course of the two hour autopsy. They finally opened fully as the pathologist cut off the top of his skull...*shiver*
(Mary Mandolin still had it on, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 11:51, 3 replies)

Why don't we just pretend he didn't die? Just for a bit!
My girlfriend once worked in an old folks home, and so used to see dead bodie relatively regularly.

My sister saw some guy jump in front of a train. Didn't see the body though - or at least much of it. Most was spread out over the better part of a mile.

I don't know how I would react if I did see one. It's not something I WANT to do, but I do like to think I would be able to act in a sane and responsible manner.

In actuality, I would probably burst into a fit of giggles thinking about what Weekend at Bernie's style shenanigans I could get away with.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 8:31, Reply)

I've never seen a dead body.
I haven't. Honestly, I never have. Not once. No, never seen one. Look, I really haven't.

Signed,
Kurt Waldheim.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 8:08, 1 reply)

Fish
I looked into my fishtank yesterday to witness several other fish attacking mine.

Turns out he was dead, and his fins and eyes had been removed.

You could see right through his head.
(PenguinOfDeath is Scottish, and most likely angry, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 7:25, Reply)

unsurprisingly, a lot of these stories seem a little morbid
so, if you'll excuse the black humour, i shall recount the story of my best mates mum...

She use to work part time as a cleaner in an old peoples home (she used to clean the home rather than the people).
She would Hoover early in the morning while the old people were either alert or asleep, thus making it easier to get around with the hoover.
The first few times she said it freaked her out, but in the end, as she was the first person in the home "doing the rounds" as it were, she was the one who would find the people who had passed on.
She said the thing that pissed her off the most was when they died in the lift, you either got a big shock when it opened for you, or you had to go up 5 flights of stairs to find the bugger.
Also if they fall a certain way across the lift doors, they make a "huuur huuuuur" noise as the lift doors try to close and compress their lungs.

I got the feeling she became a little desensitized to it all really.
( KittyWaste lives at Sleepingplanet.com, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 6:19, Reply)

"Honey, if you ever come in someday and I'm dead........."
My late husband Dave, had emphysema. We had separated for a while in 2007 but I had planned on moving in with him in his new apartment down the street. During our separation I still took care of him as he'd become very weak and had many attacks. I saw him nearly every day. I spent his 57th birthday with him on that Wednesday evening on Aug. 8th. I gave him a hug & kiss goodbye and told him, "See you Friday."
That Friday I called ahead to see if he needed anything like bread, milk, etc. No answer. "Ah, he's sleeping or in the shower", I thought. I brought in Dave's newspapers from Thursday and that day. "He must be having a really hard time." I tip-toed past him on the couch and layed his papers on the chair. "Wow. He's out cold." With a puffer in one hand and the remote in his other, he looked like he was about to wake up, smile and say as usual, "Hellowwww. You're here!"
I stepped back to him...."Dave....Dave...." All of a suddden my stomach lurched and my heart felt like it was about to explode. I didn't hear him breathing and his chest was still. My knees buckled and I was kneeling beside him. I saw the dark red underside of his extremities and it smacked me in the face. Dave had been dead for some time, apparently since the evening of his birthday when I last saw him.
After dialing 911 I cried beside him, gazing at his now skeletal but once beautiful face. His crinkly, smiling eyes had sunken. His 'kissylips' were thin and dark. I looked away from the scariness and I kissed his ice cold, bare shoulder, just wanting him back. Not fair though....he had been struggling for years with the disease. Dave had simply died in his sleep. (the best way possible) He didn't see it coming either. He warned me for years that this could happen. I didn't want to believe it.
Yes, I was upset and traumatized yet I was relieved for him.
(OGH, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 5:36, 5 replies)

Not me, but my dad...
My father's family used to live on Mission beach in California. On night some guy put on his best all-white suit and ended it all by jumping off the pier a mile down the beach.

Now, my father was 4 years old at the time, and he liked to wake up at the asscrack of dawn every morning to go play on the beach. Guess what he found on the beach that next morning! Guess!

Sure enough, the body had washed up right in front of the house. My dad says that as soon as he saw it he knew what it was, and knew better than to go anywhere near it. Instead he went home and woke up his parents, then spent a while convincing them that there was a body outside. ("Sure there's a dead guy on the beach, Bob. Go to sleep.")

55 years later, he doesn't seem all that bothered by it. The ones that really bother him are car accidents, having had a few damn close calls himself. The worst he ever saw was on a foggy day - a car with four people in it that had been crushed to a meter long.

He also used to work construction in Mexico and likes talking about the black cows. Apparently there were plenty of fatalities from people speeding at night and running straight into the black cows on the road. Never saw them coming.
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 4:51, Reply)

we need some cheer
i once saw someone preparing to leap off a tall building in my town's high street onto the busy main road.

they didnt and i failed to see a dead body.
(ladyintheradiator, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 2:43, Reply)

:(
I woke up one morning. Went to the toilet. Went downstairs to get some breakfast. But as I walk past the window I look outside and see my rabbit in the middle of the garden not moving. I thought it was a little odd as it was cold and windy, he should have been in his hutch. Ran outside... And just as I got near him I froze instantly. I saw the blood, and I saw the huge hole something had ripped out of him. He was dead. I was only 11 at the time. I cried.
(. ., Sun 2 Mar 2008, 2:03, 1 reply)

Bus Stop Shenanigans
Some years ago I was walking in the Adelaide Hills when, walking towards a bus stop, I saw an elderly woman and a young woman apparently waiting casually for a bus and a middle-aged man apparently waiting even more casually for a bus, in that he was lying down, in the middle of the day.

As I reached the bus stop I glanced at the bloke, still lying down, and thought that he'd obviously had a big night. Two steps past him, suddenly an ambulance, a truck and a car all screeched to a halt at the bus stop simultaneously and myriad people jumped out. It was at that point the elderly lady, previously casually waiting at the bus stop, burst into hysterics and starting crying "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry". Various people from the car and the truck also burst into hysterics or started comforting the elderly lady or the young lady or each other. The bloke, however, just continued to lie there motionless, although the chaps from the ambulance were now milling around him, although not in a way that suggested they were in a rush.

I just looked at the scene, thought "how odd", and kept walking. 100 metres later, I stopped, realising that I had most probably just been within 1/2 metre of a dead body. I recounted this scene later to friends and they were convinced that I had in fact witnessed a show being filmed, what with the casual attiude of the women prior to the arrival of the car/truck/ambulance and then the simultaneous arrivals/hysterics. Not having spotted a film crew in the vicinity I rejected that possibility.

I still think back to that day and wonder about the circumstances. Why were the women at the bus stop looking so casual prior to the arrival of the vehicles, what had happened to the man, and, for my own sake, why did it take some time to sink in that I had seen a dead body and just walked past it.
(Hammer of Justice, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 1:25, Reply)

Quite a few actually
The first was the worst though. I was working at a Ferry company during the school holidays, running on the river Clyde between Gourock and Dunoon.I was sitting in a 'crew only' area having a quiet fag when I noticed some clothes floating on the water. I then realised that there was hair sticking out of the jacket, a shoe was attached to a trouser leg and something white sticking out the other. My God, someones in the water.
Ran up to the captain, told him what I'd seen and he did an about. As we drew nearer it was obvious that the poor f***er was dead. The cap gets on the radio and after a time he's told to return to Gourock. We get all the passengers off and a cop comes on board, we head back to the body. The cop goes to the arse end of the boat but can't quite reach the guy so he gets a boat hook and hooks the jacket. The body flips over and we can see the guys face or what's left of it, two black holes where the eyes should've been, lipless, bits of white skin covered in waxy stuff, brilliant white bones shining through. I just stared at this thing for what seemed like ages, I had never seen anything so gross in my life.
We helped the cop put two ropes around the corpse and very slowly towed it back to the pier. When we arrived there were flashing cop cars, an ambulance and an inflatable dinghy waiting for us, along with a crowd of rubbernecking holidaymakers.
They pulled the body to the slipway where he lay for all to see "Don't look at that man" from mothers to their kids, "Jeez what a f***ing mess" from some, quite a few standing on the pier vomitting straight into the water.
A most surreal experience that left a huge impression on me. Bodies that have been in the water for a length of time are not pretty sight.
Afterwards we were told that he had jumped off a bridge in Glasgow and had floated all the way to Gourock, about 20 odd miles - sea water with fish and crabs and things that like to eat flesh. Just had a flashback there, mmmm didn't need that.
(Jimmyinnz was sprung at work on b3ta on, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 1:25, 1 reply)

No, is the short answer.
but I've put it on my list of things to do before I'm 35.
(Philishave Muckfuzz is bugger! I missed the Karma QOTW, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 0:55, 1 reply)

I've seen lots, in my job at tech support.
a couple of years ago i used to work for the police, I was a field technician, which meant I got a car and drove about the city to each police station or police desk (court house, forensics, etc.). It was an ace job and most police are really nice and friendly (I don't live in the UK). Also girl detectives in pant suits with guns turn me on. Anyway... I was happily going about my business installing printers and restarting network switches across the city when I picked up a job for the morgue. I’d done a few jobs already so I figured it would be the usual. The police had two computers in the reception where officers could catch up on paper work while they were waiting to drop corpses off, or waiting to be called to a coroners hearing (which was upstairs above the morgue). I was very, very wrong about it being the usual. Most police have a rather dry sense of humour, some would call it bad taste, but they deal with a lot of crap and I think if you can’t make light of the bad things in the world they will drag you down (imho).
“Hello, I’ve come to fix the computer, it won’t print or something?” I said to the Police Liaison officer.
“Hmmmm” he said, looking me up and down, “you’ll need to suit up, you’re ok with bodies right?”
I thought he was joking, as far as I was aware their were only two police computers in the building, and neither of those were near so much as a whiff of formaldehyde. I replied, playing along, that yeah it was fine and I’d been here before.
Then he gave me one of the white paper suits, booties, gloves and a mask. At that point I figured he might not actually be joking.
“It’s busy in there today, let me know if you feel ill”
“uh, yeah ok, erm, busy in where?”
Then he lead me into a room the size of a basket ball court, it was bright, airy, smelt strongly of hospital and had 18 people in it, only 6 of them were alive.
Turns out, today was autopsy day, I guess every day is autopsy day, but for some reason I reckon the head doctor was coming round so everyone was looking busy.
All 12 big steel tables were occupied, some were still in bags/big tray things as they had decomposed a fair bit and would have slimed off the table if they’d been let out. Others just looked like they were sleepy and needed a tan. It reminded me very much of madam taussauds, though for some reason, less realistic.
I was led through this area to a littler room, this was where the computer was, this was also the room where they do dental identification. I’d never really thought about it, but turns out, the easiest way to do dental ID’s is to remove the jaw. Though the guy could have been pulling my leg when he said that, as the room was empty. There were lots of other guys pulling legs out in the main room. Turns out the computer problem was a fairly tricky networking issue, so it took me about 20 minutes to get it sorted. Thankfully it required a fair bit of concentration which stopped me from looking up and staring out through the glass partition into the main room. All the staff there were very friendly, but it was a surreal environment, a chap walked in, said hello tom me, opened a draw and took out the biggest fucking dremmel I’d seen in my life, any larger and you’d had to have called it an angle grinder. He gave me a wink and wandered back to his table, where a lady in her late 50’s lay.
I tell you what, I’m not a big fan of the noise the dentist drills make. I like it even less now that it reminds me of that day.
When I’d fixed the computer I walked back through the room to the exit, I said goodbye to the chap with the dremmel, who thankfully wasn’t using it anymore, he gave me a friendly goodbye and thanked me for fixing the computer, then pulled the top of her head off to an accompanying sluuurping noise. Brians are more pinky than they are on TV.
Mmm spicy brains.

I figured I would not be able to sleep for weeks, but I was ok, and I am squeamish person (less now though :0). Though for weeks afterwards little snapshots of that day would pop into my head at random times, mostly the lady, mostly as I was about to bite into a sandwich.

On the plus side I did get a couple of those little dental mirrors on sticks which are great for checking hard drive and mother board jumpers.

No apologies to anyone except your mum
( KittyWaste lives at Sleepingplanet.com, Sun 2 Mar 2008, 0:35, Reply)

i once thought i'd saved a life
if you've looked at my other answer, you'll know about the high rise block near where i used to live.
one day, i was looking out of the living room window, when i saw something peculiar. a man, hanging out of one of the block's 8th floor windows.
wait, what?
shit! he's hanging out of the window! he's going to fall!
i yelled upstairs for my sister and down she came, wanting to know what all the fuss was about.
"look over there," says i. "can you see what i'm seeing?"
she looks out of the window.
"no, not that low down, look further up." "shit!" she says, "he's going to die!"
confident now that i'm not seeing things, i call the police. they tell us someone will be there immediately, don't worry.
well, we did worry. we sat there for half an hour, biting our nails, smoking like chimneys and checking every 30 seconds or so that he hadn't lost his grip.
then my sis looked out of the window and saw what we'd been dreading; he was gone. we were convinced that he'd fallen. we both sat there mourning the sad loss of this unknown man.
about ten minutes later, the phone rang. my sister answered it and, by the look on her face, i could tell it was the police. she listened for a moment, then thanked the officer and hung up.
as she turned to me, i wasn't expecting her to say "the police have rescued a blue jumpsuit that someone had hung out of their window to dry."

it left us both with such a weird feeling, we didn't even laugh.
in hindsight, though, it's hysterical!
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 23:44, Reply)

I like QOTW
for the mixture of stories, from happy, feel-good to distressing. This isn't going to produce any happy feel-good stories!
(joepublic 's opinion does not represent that of the public, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 23:26, 2 replies)

The Big Stiff
Many moons ago I use to manage properties for a local authority (council houses)any way it was the usual Friday,avoiding work, walking about with a bit of paper in order to look busy when I finally got round to answering my phone so dutifully I was called out to a property on a shitty estate and low and behold the occupier had been dead for for weeks.It was what is commonley known as an Elvis, dead on the bog. However to make things more bizzare he was there so long and rapidly decomposing his head fell off into the hand basin next to the W.C. To top it off his flesh dissolved and dripped own to the flat below mmmm.., yummy
(BigThrobbingGristle, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 22:38, Reply)

eww
I saw a really dead body once.

but this is a disgusting QOTW.
(scarydylan has lost his scare :(, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 22:18, Reply)

Six Inches Under
Our garden has a small section set aside as a graveyard for the ickle birdies that the cats bring in.

Each one is given a full burial with service (secular) and a headstone (small pebbles for sparrows, medium pebbles for starlings, big pebbles for blackbirds).

One day in the future archaeologists will discover it and ponder the existence of some long-lost race of genocidal cat-beings.
(se8card, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 21:53, Reply)

Bye bye Grandad.

When I was a wee Tesco Quality, I used to cycle up to visit my Nan and Grandad on a Saturday morning, who, were both retired.
Only thing was though, Grandad, who was normally up bright and early for his boiled egg and toast for breakfast, wasn't up.
Nan opens the door, and we both look in the living room to see if he was in there.

Nope. I go upstairs, and enter his bedroom, as they slept seperately due to whatever reason.
I was presented with the sight of a pain racked twisted face of my Grandad, who, as he got up, had suffered a massive stroke, and collapsed half on and half off the bed.

But, being of young age (I was about 10 - 11 if I remember correctly), I still shook him to try and wake him as I didn't quite comprehend what was going on - and the feeling of coldness was quite something to understand.
I kind of jumped down the stairs (and I mean JUMPED a full flight of stairs, breathing shot to pieces, hysterical like, and told my Nan, who then went up, came down, and calmly phoned for the doctor.

He was fully brain dead, but still had certain vital functions working (heart and breathing), but basically, the entire soul and life of him was gone.
Death is a very strange beast, and presents itself in more ways than I could ever start to comprehend.

I was of course, upset, disillusioned, not quite sure what to make of it all. But one thing is for certain - death is absolute, and will come to us all.

Cheerio Grandad.
( Tesco Quality 60.825659, -0.788337, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 21:00, Reply)

Cattle death
I was present when they killed the 567 cows (and numerous just born calves) which were confiscated from an unbelievably crooked farmer (who simply doesn't know the difference between legal or illegal or right or wrong).

www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=443362&in_page_id=1770&ito=1490

It was set over two days, and for eight hours per day, a rifleman shot bullets into their brains, and then a bloke with a bulky forklift shovelled the bodies onto the farm forecourt, and then they were numbered and dumped into the back of a wagon.
When the cows were dumped, the lungs exhale, and being in the middle of February, it was clouds of steam; and the rectum prolapses. There was urine and cow poo everywhere, and the blood which was part liquid and part jelly.

It was sickening, and everytime you swallow, it feels like you're swallowing death. The cull was pretty savage, but I understand the reasons behind it (even though I'm a strict vegetarian), they were riddled with disease and had passports that belonged to other cows (which the farmer had buried on his land) and the lies printed in the media quoted from this so called farmer make me wish he was in the line to be culled. (his herd was worth 100,000 and all were obtained through deception, ie he took them and didn't pay for them).
(Nibi, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 20:30, 1 reply)

Usually,
I feel sad for the ones left behind, humbled that I'm the one to pronounce them, glad they've escaped their suffering, awed that I'll be on a bed someday and a young nurse will come to pronounce me, etc. I don't get a lump in my throat, but my eyes prickle and my chest is weighed down with knowing all they went through.

One time was the worst: I was called to pronounce someone who had died of leukemia and as my hand touched the front door, my supervisor told me on the phone, "Oh, did I mention he's eight?"

I went into the house-he was lying on a bed in the living room, his mother was sitting next to the bed, just gazing at him empty-eyed. I explained who I was, what I would do and went ahead. There were three other kids there: the little guy was the only one of his brothers and sisters not mentally challenged or autistic. His father was at the hospital with stomach pains and had missed his death. (Dad was a bit slow, too)

One child wanted to know if her brother had gone to heaven. When I said yes, she asked, "Which one?" Another kid kept whipping off his clothes and trying to burrow into bed with the dead child and the third wanted to tell me all about how he was going to marry Arwin from Lord of the Rings.

So I was trying to field three kids, answer Mom's questions and attend to my patient all at once. I asked Mom for a basin and some hot water and if she had anything special she wanted him dressed in for the funeral home- they were too poor for a funeral. He was so small he didn't have to be embalmed if they cremated him the next day. If I washed and dressed him, they could have a short viewing before the cremation and he would look nice.

As I'm washing him, I notice drops of moisture are appearing on his shoulder and cheek. I can't figure it out until I wipe my face and realize the drops of moisture are from me. I'm weeping and don't know it-my tears are falling on his little body. He's so fragile; I'm trying to clean the blood away without disturbing him more and it's taking forever. Due to his leukemia, the boy internally hemmorhaged until his heart gave out and every orifice is trembling with clotted blood. His dad is home by then and points to his son's mouth. He has a mouth full of dark solid jelly and dad wants me to get rid of it. I have to tell him I can't or there's a good chance the unclotted blood behind it may rush out and go everywhere. The look on dad's face broke my heart with an audible snap.

Finally, the sheets are changed, he's bathed, I've cleaned his tiny toe and fingernails of clotted blood and combed his hair when his mom comes out with his clothes. They are shortie PJs-knit short sleeve/short legged pjs with Wolverine on them. Dad tells me, "Nightcrawler is his favorite, but we couldn't find any with Nightcrawler on them. Do you think these are ok?" I can't even talk. I swallow the big sob threatening to burst out and say, "Well, Wolverine is Nightcrawler's best friend, so I think that's pretty good." and we get him dressed.

The little guy was his mom's helper with the other kids. I don't know what she'll do now.

In keeping with last week's QOTW, in his grief the father walked through a screened French door. I thought "Wow, only a retard wouldn't see a closed screen door. Criminy!" Later, the mom poured a pint mug of boiling hot tea and asked me to take it to dad outside on the patio. Guess what? I walked through the same screen door. Ripped it out of its housing and dumped the tea all down my front. Got a first degree minge burn and a big helping of humility.

All the way home I thought, "Ok, ok, God, you can stop punishing me for my evil thoughts. That's enough karma." I was afraid the car would conk out in the worst part of town for my sins or something.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 19:49, 6 replies)

Suicide
I once was trolling around campus for something caffeinated, turned a corner, and saw this man lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Turns out he was a tramp who had leapt from the top of a nearby building a second before I had turned onto his street and saw him.

I think he survived, but I don't remember. I actually was more worried about staring at him and being thought a rubbernecker than anything else.

Stupid suicides.
(TheWonderfulWombat It came to me in a dream., Sat 1 Mar 2008, 18:12, Reply)

I'm currently watching
the death of British satire.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 17:58, 1 reply)

I'm a nursing auxiliary
when someone dies on the ward i have to stuff all their orifices with cotton wool to prevent leakage in the morgue.

it's awful when they've been left too long with their mouths open and rigor mortis sets in. they look so gormless, God rest their souls.
(jothemofo, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 17:13, 2 replies)

Soon after he hit the ground with a dull slap he became dead
The joys of seeing someone leap from Oxford's multi storey car park
( Hankster, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 16:27, Reply)

Seen loads of dead people but its these two nearlly dead that impress
As the two main protagonists in this anecdote actually ended up surviving it doesn’t really count but I think they deserve an honourable mention as they were both severely mangled and very close to death for some time. Plus it should hopefully raise a wry smile with those who had to deal with ill people.

A friend’s aunt and uncle lived in a particularly bleak part of the North – think redundant coal mining town in the early 1980s, both were alcoholic and had a myriad of mental health problems to boot. Their daily lives involved: the morning argument, stealing booze, getting pissed, afternoon argument, procuring more booze, getting really pissed and finally the night time fight, pretty basic stuff: throw things at each other, turn the volume on the tv to 11, invent new swear words for each other, wish each other dead. Essentially great neighbours.

One morning they were exchanging pleasantries along the lines of:
Him “I hate you, you slag, I wish I was dead”
Her “I’ll help you tie the noose. But we’re out of booze so I’m off to the shops”
Him “I’ll be dead by the time you get back”
Her “Fine. Just get on with it and don’t make a mess”. As this is not an unusual conversation, Auntie heads off towards the local Spar.

However, this day was to be different, Uncle is determined to top himself and in his state decides that sticking his head in the gas oven is the best way to shuffle off this mortal coil. This is before gas ovens had any kind of safety features, therefore, you leave the fucker on – it stays on, filling the whole kitchen with gas until someone turns it off.

Cue Auntie coming back home from the shops – bags of Special Brew in each arm – and discovering that Uncle isn’t in his usual chair, muttering under her breath “if you’re not dead you’ll want to be” kind of niceties. She pushes open the kitchen door to find uncle lying with his head in the oven – fortunately not dead just unconscious. Wanting to investigate what hes done now she flicks on the light. Obviously she hadn’t seen those ads from the 70s that told you what not to do in the event of a gas leak.

Too late.
‘Click’.
BOOM.

The resultant fireball catapulted Uncle and the oven through the kitchen wall – a good 15 feet, he was lucky he only broke a host of bones, meanwhile Auntie suffers severe burns to most of her body. Its likely that they both had an Abv of above 50% so they’re even luckier they didn’t fuel the explosion further.

Now they didn’t die and I didn’t even see their bodies immediately after the accident. But it always makes me smile to think of that old couple, him flying through the air to near death and what must have been the biggest ‘Oh fuck’ moment for her.

These days they’re not suicidal and have an electric oven.
(i anglepoise, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 15:25, 1 reply)

my first stiffy
It was the first time and the last time
I haven't seen a dead body but your mothers may as well have been dead, she lay there lifeless as I pounded my meat into her, didn't even make a noise, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling, maybe it was the rohypnol, maybe it was the smack, all I know is that she was begging for it, the dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty bitch.

.....the haziness of that evening is now coming back to me, your mother may well have been dead as i pounded my meat truncheon into her time and again, my large heavy gonads thwapping against her undercarriage.......

....she had approached me in a bar earlier that evening, 'Do I know you' she said, 'Not as well as you will know me later on' I replied with a nonchalant smile and flick of my hair. Her perfume was intoxicating, and her ruby red lips glistened under the spotlights shining on the bar. I offered to get her a drink, which she readily accepted. We chatted about many things, it turned out we were from the same town and had been to the same school, all-be-it I had been a few years her junior. We also skirted around the topic of under performing schools and Maslow's hierarchy of needs. I told her how i once had shat myself after straining so hard to do a fart that my cheeks went beetroot red.
We continued on and had many more drinks and were eventually asked to leave by the bar staff after they closed up. We stumbled outside, and upon hitting the fresh air I hailed her a taxi and sent her on her way home, sometimes i still remember that night with fond memories, the carousel, the big wheel, candy floss by the bonfire, with the guy alight atop. the sweet smell of chestnuts roasting and the laughter of children as they danced and skipped around the motionless crowd, watching the fireworks as they made the most beautiful colours and displays in the night sky. The food was particularly good as well, pumpkins and furry eggs washed down with a sweet golden warm glass full of urine.....

......I waited for her on the subway but she did not come, I waited for her at the station, and still she did not appear. Then suddenly, every little piece of my heart tied up in knots and I was in heaven. The message that was transpiring through the precipitation was more and more lucid as the haziness lifted and the sunshine spilt over the edge and illuminated the bonjela tube balanced precariously.....

.....her body was cold by the time I finished pounding and emptied my seed into her, I withdrew and told her I loved her. She didnt reply, I thought she would prefer it if I left. I stroked her hair, which fell off her head in large clumps such was the ferocity of my lovemaking and kissed her cheek bidding her farewell. I knew this would be the last time we would see each other, yet she hid her emotion well, like a corpse hiding any signs of life. I walked to the door, turned round and shouted over at her 'Jusqu'à ce que nous rencontrons encore, mon bien-aimé chéri, pouvoir notre amour notre toujours bond sur les océans et est tombé des arbres. '

The End
(little lord muthafuckin fauntleroy, Sat 1 Mar 2008, 13:33, 17 replies)