You wake up in your average apartment and roll out of your average bed. You wonder if you have...
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[Freeform] Kill Yourself (A Comedy of Errors)
- Thread starter Acae
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Acae
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PSA said:
You wake up in your average apartment and roll out of your average bed. You wonder if you have to work today, but then you remember: today's the day you're going to kill yourself! You don't have to go to work if you're dead. That's just logic.
The only question is... how?
[Write in. Try to keep it short, because I'm going to try and write all of them. Other considerations (organ donation, not traumatizing civilians) are also welcome. Good (or possibly bad) luck!]
ChaosMagic
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[X] Jump out your window. Stealthily. You don't feel up to that whole 'crowd of people yelling "don't jump"' drama.
Acae
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>jump out the window
It doesn't matter whether you die in your pajamas, does it? You open the window, pop the screen out, and sit on the sill. Then you take a deep breath and heave yourself forward.
Ow. Now you have a bruise on your knee. You guess that's what happens when you jump out of a first-floor window. You're not dead, you're just cold and a bit muddy, since you landed in the garden. You're going to have to try something else.
It doesn't matter whether you die in your pajamas, does it? You open the window, pop the screen out, and sit on the sill. Then you take a deep breath and heave yourself forward.
Ow. Now you have a bruise on your knee. You guess that's what happens when you jump out of a first-floor window. You're not dead, you're just cold and a bit muddy, since you landed in the garden. You're going to have to try something else.
Acae
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>dig your own grave
Well, there's no reason not to plan ahead. You start scooping dirt out of the garden, using your hands as a shovel. It's hard going. On TV it looks really easy to dig a big hole, but here there's roots and rocks and things. You persevere, but then you come up against something you hadn't even thought about: the water table. About half a foot into the ground, your hole starts to become a very small pond, and no amount of bailing will empty it. Now you're cold, wet, covered in mud, still in your pajamas, and you've dug up all your neighbor's tulips. You might need a different idea.
Well, there's no reason not to plan ahead. You start scooping dirt out of the garden, using your hands as a shovel. It's hard going. On TV it looks really easy to dig a big hole, but here there's roots and rocks and things. You persevere, but then you come up against something you hadn't even thought about: the water table. About half a foot into the ground, your hole starts to become a very small pond, and no amount of bailing will empty it. Now you're cold, wet, covered in mud, still in your pajamas, and you've dug up all your neighbor's tulips. You might need a different idea.
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TanaNari
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Well, that was entertaining exercise, but now to really kill yourself.
[X] Go back inside, run a bath, go get a toaster, plug it in in the bathroom, take a nice, warm bath. With the toaster. Get nice and toasty.
Make damn certain the tub is full. Thing about electricity is it usually doesn't kill on its own unless you're making sweet, sweet love to a transforming station... but it will paralyze, and the drowning will do the rest.
[X] Go back inside, run a bath, go get a toaster, plug it in in the bathroom, take a nice, warm bath. With the toaster. Get nice and toasty.
Make damn certain the tub is full. Thing about electricity is it usually doesn't kill on its own unless you're making sweet, sweet love to a transforming station... but it will paralyze, and the drowning will do the rest.
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Acae
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>take a bath with a toaster
Honestly a bath sounds delightful. You climb back in the window, getting mud all over your carpet, and tromp into your bathroom to start the water going. Now, let's see, a toaster.... You don't actually own a toaster, but a toaster oven will probably work. You take it back into the bathroom and set it on the tub edge. The cord just barely reaches. Good enough!
In a few minutes, the tub is full, and you strip off your muddy clothing and sink in. You spend a minute relishing in the warmth, then pick up the toaster oven and drop it in the water.
Death is dark. And... full of yelling people? As your eyes adjust, you realize that while you've managed to short the power to the entire building, thus annoying your neighbors and euthanizing your toaster oven, it's not quite lights out for you personally just yet.
At least the water's still warm.
Honestly a bath sounds delightful. You climb back in the window, getting mud all over your carpet, and tromp into your bathroom to start the water going. Now, let's see, a toaster.... You don't actually own a toaster, but a toaster oven will probably work. You take it back into the bathroom and set it on the tub edge. The cord just barely reaches. Good enough!
In a few minutes, the tub is full, and you strip off your muddy clothing and sink in. You spend a minute relishing in the warmth, then pick up the toaster oven and drop it in the water.
Death is dark. And... full of yelling people? As your eyes adjust, you realize that while you've managed to short the power to the entire building, thus annoying your neighbors and euthanizing your toaster oven, it's not quite lights out for you personally just yet.
At least the water's still warm.
Acae
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>go run in the street
What, naked? That's a quick ticket to a psych ward. Better put some clothes on first. Plus, it's October and it's cold out. Yeah, you're trying to kill yourself, but you don't have to be uncomfortable while you do it.
As you leave the building, you see the neighbor whose tulips you dug up standing at the edge of her new small water feature, frowning. She looks up and sees you, and nope nope nope you are not taking the credit for that one, nosirree. You about-face and all-but-run down the sidewalk away from her. Then, since it was the goal anyway, you hop into the middle of the street and keep going. And going. And going. You're starting to get out of breath. Where are all the cars?
You stop and look around. The street is mostly empty of moving cars, probably because it's eight in the morning on a Saturday and no normal person is up this early. As you try to figure out how to get run over by a parked car, one trundles up to you, gently swerves to avoid you, and keeps going. So that's a bust.
What, naked? That's a quick ticket to a psych ward. Better put some clothes on first. Plus, it's October and it's cold out. Yeah, you're trying to kill yourself, but you don't have to be uncomfortable while you do it.
As you leave the building, you see the neighbor whose tulips you dug up standing at the edge of her new small water feature, frowning. She looks up and sees you, and nope nope nope you are not taking the credit for that one, nosirree. You about-face and all-but-run down the sidewalk away from her. Then, since it was the goal anyway, you hop into the middle of the street and keep going. And going. And going. You're starting to get out of breath. Where are all the cars?
You stop and look around. The street is mostly empty of moving cars, probably because it's eight in the morning on a Saturday and no normal person is up this early. As you try to figure out how to get run over by a parked car, one trundles up to you, gently swerves to avoid you, and keeps going. So that's a bust.
Acae
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>piss off a gangster
You're an average middle-class citizen in an average suburban town. You have no idea where or how to find a gangster. Do gangsters even still exist? You have vague images of black-and-white footage of balding men with Ye Olde machine guns and cigars hanging out of their mouths, speaking in thick Chicago accents about dames and cold hard cash. Wait, maybe that's noir detectives. They're... pretty much the same, right? Same genre, anyway. Probably.
>jump off a bridge
A bridge, you do know how to find. And you're not going to make the same mistake you made with the window; no footbridges over creeks for you. There's a park a couple miles from your apartment, and you were already sort of heading in that direction. You keep walking in the middle of the street, but after the third car that honks at you, annoyed, you think you probably ought to get out of the way. An hour later sees you at the municipal park, looking out over the river from the... well, technically it's still a footbridge, but people ride bikes over it, and it's a fair thirty feet over the surface of the water, and anyway it's the biggest and, let's face it, only bridge you've got. You hop up and over the handrail and jump. You've heard that from high enough up, hitting water is the same as hitting concrete.
Well, you've got good news and bad news. The good news is that a thirty-foot jump into water isn't high enough to kill yourself, so anybody else who falls off this bridge is going to be fine. The bad news is that a thirty-foot jump into water isn't high enough to kill yourself, and the water is freezing. Also, the mouthful you got of it tastes terrible. You float along in the river, automatically treading water, until a goose swims up to you, curious about the strange flotsam. Aww. It's kind of cu--
No! No, it's not cute! It bit you! What the hell?! You try splashing it but that just seems to rile it up more. What did you ever do to this goose?! You backpedal furiously to try and get away from the feathered hellbeast. It doesn't let up until it's chased you up through the reeds and onto the grass, and then it gives you a final honk to see you off and waddles back to the river, smug. Jerk.
You're soaking wet and you've just lost a fight to a twenty-pound jumped-up water chicken. All in all, not your finest moment.
You're an average middle-class citizen in an average suburban town. You have no idea where or how to find a gangster. Do gangsters even still exist? You have vague images of black-and-white footage of balding men with Ye Olde machine guns and cigars hanging out of their mouths, speaking in thick Chicago accents about dames and cold hard cash. Wait, maybe that's noir detectives. They're... pretty much the same, right? Same genre, anyway. Probably.
>jump off a bridge
A bridge, you do know how to find. And you're not going to make the same mistake you made with the window; no footbridges over creeks for you. There's a park a couple miles from your apartment, and you were already sort of heading in that direction. You keep walking in the middle of the street, but after the third car that honks at you, annoyed, you think you probably ought to get out of the way. An hour later sees you at the municipal park, looking out over the river from the... well, technically it's still a footbridge, but people ride bikes over it, and it's a fair thirty feet over the surface of the water, and anyway it's the biggest and, let's face it, only bridge you've got. You hop up and over the handrail and jump. You've heard that from high enough up, hitting water is the same as hitting concrete.
Well, you've got good news and bad news. The good news is that a thirty-foot jump into water isn't high enough to kill yourself, so anybody else who falls off this bridge is going to be fine. The bad news is that a thirty-foot jump into water isn't high enough to kill yourself, and the water is freezing. Also, the mouthful you got of it tastes terrible. You float along in the river, automatically treading water, until a goose swims up to you, curious about the strange flotsam. Aww. It's kind of cu--
No! No, it's not cute! It bit you! What the hell?! You try splashing it but that just seems to rile it up more. What did you ever do to this goose?! You backpedal furiously to try and get away from the feathered hellbeast. It doesn't let up until it's chased you up through the reeds and onto the grass, and then it gives you a final honk to see you off and waddles back to the river, smug. Jerk.
You're soaking wet and you've just lost a fight to a twenty-pound jumped-up water chicken. All in all, not your finest moment.
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Acae
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>suicide by cop
Ugh. If you want something done right, you're going to have to get someone else to do it for you. Luckily the police station is also fairly nearby... probably. You haven't had much prior cause to take note of where the police station is, but City Hall is closeish, so, uh, something something public services?
After wandering around for another hour (which at least gives your clothes and hair a chance to dry), you find the police station and head in. There's somebody talking to the... receptionist? cop? recoptionist? at the front desk, so you wait patiently in line until they finish up and go away, then step up to the counter. "Excuse me," you say. "I'm going to do some crimes. Some very bad crimes. You should stop me. Lethally."
The policewoman leans back and gives you a long look. "Generally we try not to do that," she says. "What crimes were you thinking of committing?"
Um.... "I'm going to rob a bank," you guess. "And... threaten some people?" You don't actually want to do any of the things that you're sure would make the cops come after you guns a-blazing. It doesn't seem very fair to the victims. Come to think of it, it doesn't seem very fair to the cop who has to shoot you, either. "Do you have anyone who wouldn't mind killing someone?"
The cop raises her eyebrows. "'Have' as in employ? No. You realize the point of cops is to keep people safe, right?"
You've seen TV. The point of cops is definitely to make a lot of loud noises and solve complicated murders and have a lot of unresolved sexual tension. Also some explosions depending on budget. You suspect this won't go over well with the actual cop in front of you, so instead you say, "Right, never mind then. Thanks for your time," and beat a hasty retreat. Maybe you should stay away from the authorities in the future. They're entirely too... authoritative.
Ugh. If you want something done right, you're going to have to get someone else to do it for you. Luckily the police station is also fairly nearby... probably. You haven't had much prior cause to take note of where the police station is, but City Hall is closeish, so, uh, something something public services?
After wandering around for another hour (which at least gives your clothes and hair a chance to dry), you find the police station and head in. There's somebody talking to the... receptionist? cop? recoptionist? at the front desk, so you wait patiently in line until they finish up and go away, then step up to the counter. "Excuse me," you say. "I'm going to do some crimes. Some very bad crimes. You should stop me. Lethally."
The policewoman leans back and gives you a long look. "Generally we try not to do that," she says. "What crimes were you thinking of committing?"
Um.... "I'm going to rob a bank," you guess. "And... threaten some people?" You don't actually want to do any of the things that you're sure would make the cops come after you guns a-blazing. It doesn't seem very fair to the victims. Come to think of it, it doesn't seem very fair to the cop who has to shoot you, either. "Do you have anyone who wouldn't mind killing someone?"
The cop raises her eyebrows. "'Have' as in employ? No. You realize the point of cops is to keep people safe, right?"
You've seen TV. The point of cops is definitely to make a lot of loud noises and solve complicated murders and have a lot of unresolved sexual tension. Also some explosions depending on budget. You suspect this won't go over well with the actual cop in front of you, so instead you say, "Right, never mind then. Thanks for your time," and beat a hasty retreat. Maybe you should stay away from the authorities in the future. They're entirely too... authoritative.
QM Note said:
Acae
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>provoke a rabid dog in a shelter
You... don't think shelters keep animals that have rabies. It seems like the kind of thing that's generally ill-advised for people who aren't trying to die. Maybe you can find a stray? You can't remember seeing any stray dogs around, now that people are more responsible and don't let them run loose. What else has rabies? Possums? No, wait, possums can't have rabies for some reason, you think. Bats? Where the hell would you find a bat? This plan needs some question marks filled in before you can really act on it.
You... don't think shelters keep animals that have rabies. It seems like the kind of thing that's generally ill-advised for people who aren't trying to die. Maybe you can find a stray? You can't remember seeing any stray dogs around, now that people are more responsible and don't let them run loose. What else has rabies? Possums? No, wait, possums can't have rabies for some reason, you think. Bats? Where the hell would you find a bat? This plan needs some question marks filled in before you can really act on it.
TanaNari
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[X] Everywhere has trains, right? Step in front of an Amtrak going at full speed and by the time your brain knows that it's supposed to experience pain, it's been scattered across thirty meters of gravel.
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FwiffoForce
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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[X] - Go to work. On a saturday. See if it's possible to die of boredom.
Swiftwolfbeta
Versed in the lewd.
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10/10 bet if we die we will get Isekaied
TanaNari
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As a suicide booth.
Acae
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>go to work
Hell no. You're trying to die and you still don't want to work retail.
>step in front of a moving train
Hey, there's an idea. You just need to find some train tracks or a station, and those are... uh... hm. Huh. Um, well. If someone asked you if there were trains in your town, you'd have confidently said yes, but now that you're trying to think of where they are, you can't actually remember seeing any. Or hearing any. Or hearing about any. You know there are train tracks near the park.... You think there are train tracks near the park. After another forty-five minutes of wandering around (this time giving the goose's river a wide berth), you find them, stand on them, and shut your eyes to await the inevitable.
Nothing happens. Nothing continues to happen. Nothing keeps happening. You open your eyes again and look around. Man, you're not asking for Mussolini's schedule here, but sometime today would be nice.
On second thought, is it normal for train tracks to have things growing in them? You'd think the train going over would cut the weeds down, at least in between the rails. And this wood looks kind of rotten. And there's a fallen branch across the thing over there. And... and no one uses this train track anymore, do they. You pick a direction and start walking. A mile or so down the track, rain has eroded the gravel hillside under the track, leaving two parallel iron bars floating a foot off the ground. That would explain the total lack of trains rather succinctly, yes. You guess you could go find wherever these tracks come from, but honestly you're getting hungry and tired of walking. The lack of maintenance suggests any eventual train station wouldn't be in much better shape anyway.
>drink drain cleaner mixed with fruit
That... sounds gross, but you guess you can make it work. You head back to the little rest area at the park, picking handfuls of wild blackberries on the way. Under the sinks in the bathroom, you find a cheerfully-colored tub of stuff designed to be as toxic as possible. To germs, granted, but you're pretty much made of germs, so close enough. You pop the blackberries in it, give the mixture a swirl, hold your nose, and take a drink.
--and immediately retch and spew it all over the floor. You cannot drink this. You literally, physically cannot drink this. Four hundred billion years of evolution bent on surviving at any cost forces your gag reflex to close your throat before you can even try to swallow. The berries did nothing and in fact may have made it worse. You flail at the faucet until it turns on and rinse the disgusting traces out of your mouth. You probably swallow some of it in the process, but you doubt it's a lethal dose. You wipe your mouth and sit on the dry part of the floor, trying to think. The simple things are clearly not working. It's surprisingly hard to kill yourself, considering how many people win Darwin Awards every day.
You suppose this is where phrases like, "It's so crazy it just might work," come in handy.
Hell no. You're trying to die and you still don't want to work retail.
>step in front of a moving train
Hey, there's an idea. You just need to find some train tracks or a station, and those are... uh... hm. Huh. Um, well. If someone asked you if there were trains in your town, you'd have confidently said yes, but now that you're trying to think of where they are, you can't actually remember seeing any. Or hearing any. Or hearing about any. You know there are train tracks near the park.... You think there are train tracks near the park. After another forty-five minutes of wandering around (this time giving the goose's river a wide berth), you find them, stand on them, and shut your eyes to await the inevitable.
Nothing happens. Nothing continues to happen. Nothing keeps happening. You open your eyes again and look around. Man, you're not asking for Mussolini's schedule here, but sometime today would be nice.
On second thought, is it normal for train tracks to have things growing in them? You'd think the train going over would cut the weeds down, at least in between the rails. And this wood looks kind of rotten. And there's a fallen branch across the thing over there. And... and no one uses this train track anymore, do they. You pick a direction and start walking. A mile or so down the track, rain has eroded the gravel hillside under the track, leaving two parallel iron bars floating a foot off the ground. That would explain the total lack of trains rather succinctly, yes. You guess you could go find wherever these tracks come from, but honestly you're getting hungry and tired of walking. The lack of maintenance suggests any eventual train station wouldn't be in much better shape anyway.
>drink drain cleaner mixed with fruit
That... sounds gross, but you guess you can make it work. You head back to the little rest area at the park, picking handfuls of wild blackberries on the way. Under the sinks in the bathroom, you find a cheerfully-colored tub of stuff designed to be as toxic as possible. To germs, granted, but you're pretty much made of germs, so close enough. You pop the blackberries in it, give the mixture a swirl, hold your nose, and take a drink.
--and immediately retch and spew it all over the floor. You cannot drink this. You literally, physically cannot drink this. Four hundred billion years of evolution bent on surviving at any cost forces your gag reflex to close your throat before you can even try to swallow. The berries did nothing and in fact may have made it worse. You flail at the faucet until it turns on and rinse the disgusting traces out of your mouth. You probably swallow some of it in the process, but you doubt it's a lethal dose. You wipe your mouth and sit on the dry part of the floor, trying to think. The simple things are clearly not working. It's surprisingly hard to kill yourself, considering how many people win Darwin Awards every day.
You suppose this is where phrases like, "It's so crazy it just might work," come in handy.
Acae
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>find someone to annoy to the point of murder
Congratulations! Your author has gotten tired of this concept and never had a satisfying conclusion to it anyway, and has learned a valuable lesson about starting things without knowing how they end. Rocks fall and you die. Yes, in the middle of the street. Yes, on a clear day with nothing above you. Shut up, dead people can't argue.
(Sorry. If someone else wants to take over this thread, though, go for it.)
Congratulations! Your author has gotten tired of this concept and never had a satisfying conclusion to it anyway, and has learned a valuable lesson about starting things without knowing how they end. Rocks fall and you die. Yes, in the middle of the street. Yes, on a clear day with nothing above you. Shut up, dead people can't argue.
(Sorry. If someone else wants to take over this thread, though, go for it.)