Choose Your Own Nuthouse


Section 54

<>(Paul)
            Rope is the answer!  With rope you will be able to save your friends!  Do you have rope?  You don’t know!  You realize that you must look!  Lighting a cigarette, you get out of your car quickly and run around to the trunk.  The trunk which you’ve forgotten to open.  Your keys are still in the ignition.  You run back around, realizing that it would have been quicker to run along the driver’s side of the car, rather than going the other way.  You fumble for the trunk release, pull a lever.  The hood pops.  Oh, that’s right.  The trunk lever is next to the seat.  You push it and hear the gas tank door pop open.  Ah, right.  Pull.  You pull the lever, and the trunk pops.  Success!  Now for rope!  Back around the car, this time choosing the shorter path (you’re so smart!) you run.  You dig through the collected bits and pieces of stuff in your trunk.  Why couldn’t you have cleaned out the trunk once in a while?  Well, at least with this much garbage, there has to be rope somewh- Ooh!  Oreos!  Yummy!  You love Oreos!  You eat some, being careful to twist them apart, devour the icing, and then eat the cookie part which you like, even though some people think it tastes like chalk.  They don’t know nothin’.  The icing’s the best part, but the cookie part is damn fine eatin’s, too!  You eat a few more.  You hadn’t realized how hungry you are.  But, darnit, now you’re thirsty!  You circle the car to get your beer from the cup holder, but you wind up back at the trunk, beerless.  You forgot what you were doing halfway around the car.  But now you remember!  Beer!  Why are you looking for beer in the trunk, though?  You don’t know.  There is no beer in the trunk.  It’s all in the backseat.  There’s nothing in the trunk except a lot of junk.  Some rope, Oreos, a handful of condoms (wrapped and unused, thank God) that have to be at least three years old.  You stare at the things in the trunk.  A memory has been jogged.  Something in here is terribly important right now.  What is it?  What could it be?  You don’t know.  The memory hovers just out of reach.  Oh well.  If it were really important, you’d remember—Ooh!  Oreos!  Yummy!  Man, you love these things, even the kinda chalky outside bits that always make you thirsty.  You can’t remember the last time you ate an Oreo.  That makes you wonder how long the Oreos have been in the trunk.  Eh, whatever.  They never really go bad.  They’re like condoms.  They’re good forever.  Man, what was it you were trying to think of?  It’s driving you nuts.  And how can anyone think with all that shrieking going on?  You eat some more Oreos.  You’re getting thirsty, so you get a beer from the backseat.  While you’re popping it open, you look up at a sound.  How long has that screaming been going on?  You think it’s been going on for a long time, but you can’t be sure.  Through the gloom you can see the lake.  Lake Doomhole.  Where you’re gonna meet your friends.  Hey, it looks like someone’s swimming.  Wait, or is that thrashing?  Well, that would make sense.  The lake is full of boiling blood.  Man, you think, that’s gotta suck.  Suddenly, you recognize a voice.  It’s that chick!  The one you really wanna bang.  Great tits, man.  Wanna gnaw on those for a while.  What’s her name?  You can’t remember.  It’s not important.  What is important is that she’s boiling to death in, get this, fucking blood, man.  Harsh, yeah, and it means you won’t get to bang her.  Plus, your friends are there, too.  It’d be a drag if they died.  But what to do?  WAIT!  ROPE!  FUCK YES!  THAT’S what it was!  You were gonna save your friends’ lives.  You’ll be a GOD DAMNED HERO!!!  HOOAH!  You go tearing around the car to look for some rope in your trunk, which is, for some reason, open.  You hope you haven’t been driving around like that.  Shit could fall out, cause accidents and stuff.  Retaining the thought this time, you grab the rope and an Oreo (who knew you had Oreos in the trunk?  Yum!) and go tearing around the car again. 

            “I’ll save you!”  You yell, and hurl the rope into the lake, heroically.  It whangs nice-tits girl on the head.  Bits of skin slough off into the boiling blood (eww), and she sinks.  So does the bundle of rope, which you probably should have tied to something or at least un-knotted before flinging it (what distance, though!  Got an arm on you, boy!) into Lake Doomhole.  You curse loudly and go tearing back to the car to find more rope or some other suitable life-saving device.  You are about halfway there when your gut suddenly clenches violently and pain radiates from your distressed (to say the least) intestines.  You hit the ground, vomit blossoming (well, more like launching spectacularly) from your mouth and nose and, horribly, your ears.  You don’t even wanna know what has to be going on for that to happen.  You are convulsing in the dirt (or, more accurately, vomit-mud), thrashing like an epileptic.  Your body is one big…one big pain-y…thing.  You’d be really upset about that if it wasn’t for all the pain and, oh yeah, all the vomit (bloody vomit, at that) spewing from your facial orifices.  And now- isn’t this grand- you are shitting yourself.  Badly.  Catastrophically.  You are in a really bad way here.  You begin to break out in hives, not that you’re really aware of it, but the itching is terrible.  On top of the pain.  And the vomit.  And the…well, you know.  Plus, now the urine jetting out of your swollen (?!!?) genitals.  Not erect, mind you.  Swollen.  In fact, you are swelling up all over the place and you’re pretty sure you’re weeping blood.  You cannot breathe.  Not just because of the vomiting, but because your esophagus and tongue have swollen up also.  You’d think one woulda been enough, but they both had to go so you’re doubly fucked.  Your left lung collapses.  Again, this is just beating the dead horse.  It’s not like the vomit and swollen respiratory system weren’t already suffocating you.  And Christ, who would have thought one body could hold so much…well, horrible stuff.  You are still going, without any sign of stopping.  Some part of your heart stops.  Your hair begins to fall out.  Your body temperature skyrockets.  Your fingernails drop off.  You can’t really tell, (except for the most spectacular display of blue objects) but your brain has swollen into the sides of your skull.  You thrash so violently that you begin to snap bones.  A few fingers.  Foot.  Arm.  A rib.  Tissue tears.  Inside.  One of your eyes swells.  Bigger.  Bigger.  Bigger.  Pop!  It explodes loudly.  You can’t hear it, though because as you’ll remember, you have vomit spluttering out of your ears.  Your teeth gnash together and grind.  And shatter.  It’s good that you’re more or less comatose at this point because the pain is amazing.  The approach of death dulls the agony, but not completely.  All there is any more is the pain, and those freaky cool blue objects resulting from your brain swelling.  And there’s this one tiny part of your agony-ravaged mind that’s wondering what in fuck’s name was going on.  Seriously, this is just bizarre.  Is it some sort of virus?  Or, like, a death beam or something?  Yeah.  Death beam.  From, like aliens and shit.  Fucking aliens.  As your stomach begins to swell with some horrible type of gas being produced by God knows what kind of horrible…um, gas making…thingy… you have another thought.  Food poisoning, perhaps?  Yeah, maybe.  Those Oreos were pretty old.  There’d been some sorta “Beauty and the Beast” tie in on the package.  Anyway, it’s a pretty moot point because your car, parked on a slight incline without a parking brake on, has been slowly sliding toward you.  It rolls over your head, mostly killing you, and slips into the boiling blood of Lake Doomhole.  Mostly dead now, you body nonetheless continues to spasm, leak (well, eject.  Enthusiastically), swell, pop, itch, and hallucinate for a few seconds before you pretty much just explode all over the place, spreading your already sizable mess even further into the night.

<>            The reek is, like, awful.  Be glad you’re too dead to smell it.
 

You are most definitely dead, and also mostly liquified.  Go back to the previous section, Oreo Boy

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PS- Your friends use the car to climb to safety.  They seek medical attention, heal completely and live happy lives.  Except for the girl you killed with the rope.  Dumbass.