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Professor Shark

Fighting a White Shark



Autoerotic asphyxiation.

Sponge Baathist

heroin OD

Whirlwind Jones

by Lowtax

Death by cop after killing like 30 cops.


Out of nowhere its.....


Wooten posted:

Autoerotic asphyxiation.

I drive a manual

Sgt. Shaved Balls

by Lowtax

Whirlwind Jones posted:

Death by cop after killing like 30 cops.

The Brown Menace

Now comes in all colors.

one 19th of 9/11


feld posted:

I drive a manual

Crashing head-on into a truck at 100mph with the gear stick up your butt.


blowing up the sun

Sid Vicious

All-around good dude
having sex with a lot of sexy ladies to death


a misanthrope
Can't post for 3875 days!

death by cock

im gay


Chiunque può essere Luther Blissett, semplicemente adottando il nome Luther Blissett

choosing to own a motorcycle

FARK Kiosk

Oh Sweet Jesus
procedural enjoyable human being sterilization

Moonshine Rhyme

Waltzing Along


The best way to kill yourself
Have you ever searched the internet to find the best way to kill yourself?
Well I have, and it is drat near impossible to find the answer.

It looks like I have found the one question the Internet is unable to answer. Yay! Hurray for me, now let's change that.

So why would I be searching for such a thing? I don't plan on ever killing myself, not even in the most dire of situations. Although I have not always felt like that(depression is a bitch). No, now I love the constant stream of surprises that life has to offer way too much to ever kill myself. And I know that no matter how bad things get, there is almost always a day that things will be better again. Well that's how it works with depressions anyway.

But there are a few exceptions to this state of mind.
And if you are reading this, you probably already know them.
There are some perfectly good reasons to off yourself out there and I think it is up to you to decide.

So why would I try to help you do something as stupid as this?
Quite frankly, I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me.
I am just sick and tired of those stupid bastards that are doing it WRONG. These guys cause pain and suffering to other people whilst trying to end their own.

Why the hell would you jump in front of a train! Just think of the consequences! It's messy, quite possibly painful and you run the risk of surviving. Think of the people who's job it is to clean that poo poo up. And the driver! It is the stuff of nightmares. Stop this insanity now!
Also you make me late for my appointment. I hate that.

There are far better ways to kill yourself without giving anybody nightmares. All you need is a little imagination. Which you are probably lacking right now because you decided to kill yourself.

So I'll go ahead and assume you are looking for a way to kill yourself in a way that is not painful.
You want to die and not hurt anyone else. You want to off yourself quickly and without a chance of backing out at the last moment. Well fat chance. There is almost always a way to back out at the last moment and if you feel you might feel the need to, then you have not made up your mind yet and you should see a counselor. Also you are always going to hurt other people but the decent thing to do is to keep that to a minimum. So here are a few good ways to end it all.

Finding the answer yourself
Don't search the internet for the best way to kill yourself, you will only find people who are trying to stop you or people who attempt to be funny about it(and almost always fail to do so)
Answer: reverse the question.
Search for "safety" and you will find danger.
Search for "survival" and you will find dangerous situations where the chance of killing yourself is almost guaranteed.
There is another risk here though. Doing something crazy rear end dangerous could be just the kick you need to find the will to live again. That's what happened to me (true story)
Look for "success stories" searching for "killed himself" and focusing on news sites gives a lot of results. Try to pick the least messy ones please.
Stupid American gun law...
Most suicides are gun related and thus messy so use Google translate to search in a different language then English, pick a country where guns are forbidden for best results.
A risk here is that you find many stories of family members who were traumatized. But you can use this information to prevent that as much as possible.
Take a day to write a good note to explain yourself and your decision. Even if you don't believe me, there are always people out there that like you and they will be hurt. Understanding will help them deal with it.

Finding the answer yourself is going to take way too long, I know, I have spent days on it. I tend to obsess over things. I can't stand the fact that the internet didn't have an answer to such a simple question.
So here are my conclusions. For the impatient readers, my personal favorite can be found at the bottom.

If you have decided to kill yourself you essentially have given yourself a free pass to be a daredevil, so be on the lookout for anything marked with warning labels. "Danger" will not be your middle name, it will be your last.

Dangerous situations
Finding dangerous situations that are not messy or hurt anyone else is very difficult unless you happen to already be a stuntman or can fool the psychological test it takes to become one, but then it takes too long anyway. By far the best one is to have a climbing "accident" on your own. But you need mountains in a near abandoned place. So perhaps you need some traveling money. Keep in mind that the longer it takes for someone to find your mangled body, the less messy it becomes. And pick a good spot for gods sake, nice and high and try to go head first. No, a High building will NOT do!

Dangerous places
Frozen bodies are quite clean. Also freezing to death seems to be quite painless. The Everest, the North,South pole are all very beautiful and dangerous places and a great final destination. They might be a bit hard to get to, so why not take a skiing trip. The risk of avalanches is mostly prevented by a special group of people who call themselves avalanche experts what they lack is time to prevent all of them. Have a chat with them to find out where you should definitely not go, then go there. Pick a spot that won't cover an entire village when it is triggered please, and do it at night or in the evening to prevent them from finding you if you survive the initial impact.
Could be really painful, so you could alternatively take off your clothes or get wet and sit in the snow in an abandoned place with a bottle of hard liquor. Alcohol might make you feel warm, but it actually speeds up the hypothermia and it takes the edge off the unpleasant shivering. You will feel drowsy after a bit and simply go to sleep.

Killer electronics
High voltage is quite painful, I know those warning signs are pretty, just don't do it if you can't stand the pain.
Forget about defibrillators, the ones you could get your hands on have too many safety features. Unless you are smart enough to rig one, this is not an option.
All I did was reverse safety regulations to come up with this.
It doesn't take high voltage to stop a heart. Regular mains current will do fine. The trick is to get the current to pass the right spot for long enough. So rig those breakers before you take the toaster for a bath.
Don't actually take the toaster for a bath though, the current flies everywhere and you have no control over the outcome.
For the best result you should be looking for something that is 375 Volts at a frequency of 60 Hertz alternating current. Hearts don't like 60 herz, 5000 Hz is even better, but hard to find. 60 and 5000 herz are sweet spots. Slightly more or less, no problem, but in between is a surefire way to fail.
Conveniently America has chosen 60 Hz for it's mains power.
A 5 second blast of at least 75 milliamps over your chest cavity should do the trick.
Arms conduct electricity quite nicely so take this opportunity with both hands and get a good grip on the situation. Better yet, tape the wires to your chest at the position where they usually place the paddles of the defibrillator and flip a switch. The result is a heart attack, if not, try again. Ask anyone who has had a heart attack about the pain. Most people describe it as moderate. As far as this particular current I have no idea how it feels. But I find the shock from the regular mains quite exhilarating so I might not be the best person to give advice on that.
The risk here is that you might also burn your house down when you connect yourself to the mains due to the rigged breakers. A practical tip is to do this standing up with wires that are just the right length so that when you fall down the connection is broken.
Remember, safety first. And in this case for other people naturally.
Electronics isn't very hard so you could take this one step further and build the ultimate death machine. Have a look at how electric power conversion works. You are looking for a flyback transformer. This could also provide you with a handy alibi if you want to make it look like an accident while reducing the risk of burning your house down.

Air in the wrong place
Commonly thought to be a good way to kill yourself is an air bubble in your bloodstream. Take a syringe and squirt some air in a vain in order to produce a heart attack. This is bullshit, don't do it. You need way more air then you think the chances of you surviving are way to high. The heart is a pump, for it to stop pumping almost half of it should be filled with air, and even then, sloshing due to falling might start the whole process back up again. Also air in the vanes and heart don't seem painless to me.

Sounds simple enough, just don't do the things you need to remain alive.
Going without food is not an option. It takes way too long and one of the symptoms is bad decision making. Although your hallucinations might make it a pleasurable experience after a while, keep in mind that Gandhi took 21 days to meet his maker.
Without water you can survive up to 5 days maximum. The worst symptoms come last and unless you like lethargy, irritability, vomiting and diarrhea, this is not the way to go. In an exceptional case a Japanese hiker survived for 27 days because he went into a hibernation like state. This just shows that your body will not be so eager to die as you might be. Deprivation does not work well enough.
Unless... it is air you deprive yourself of.

We need air, don't get any and it is all over within 5 minutes. If you have two hands you can choke yourself. The problem there is that you loose consciousness first, lose you grip, and then start breathing again. So you need something that holds on when you can't anymore. Luckily a hangman's noose was designed for exactly such a purpose and really easy to make. You don't actually have to hang yourself, perhaps you don't have anything to hang from, in that case just pull it tight or use a door nob. Friction will prevent the noose from loosening up quickly so there is no easy way back. This is a good way to die because there is no pain and you will experience one final orgasm before you go. If you want to fall from a couple of feet, you might break your neck, this is quicker. But judging the height and amount of rope can be tricky and painful if you fail. Also necks can be really sturdy.

Another way to do something similar but should really be called poisoning is taping a bag over your head. I saw that one in a movie, there seems to be some panic involved. All you need is a sturdy plastic bag and some duct tape. Put the bag over your head and tape it tight around your neck. You will not die of lack of oxygen but an overdose of carbon dioxide(the stuff you breathe out) At first you might experience some panic as your body struggles to keep alive. But after that you will gently go to sleep as the carbon dioxide relaxes you. The possibility of a slight headache should be the only pain involved.

Not really a sure way to die, but surely one of the most fun ones since it causes euphoria. This is the stuff that kills you if you stick your head in the oven, which is not something I recommend because you might blow up part of the neighborhood. It is very hard to turn the gas back off once you are dead. But most people don't realize that it also comes in handy portable suicide packages that people generally use to refill their gas lighters. The effects are: euphoria, drowsiness, narcosis, asphyxia, cardiac arrhythmia, temporary memory loss and frostbite. Narcosis is the reason why might miss your target. It's hard to kill yourself if you are passed out. The jet of liquid is extremely cold when it comes out so don't go spraying this directly in your throat, that will kill you, but in a painful way. Use a bag or a plastic bottle with a hole cut into it to spray, then inhale to your heart's content. Use enough and you might get a heart attack. I'm not sure if the only cause of asphyxia is purely caused by spraying it directly in your throat, but hey, you are about to die, you might as well give it a try. And if you are euphoric enough you might not even mind.

To keep it simple we'll say that there are two types of drugs, sedatives and stimulants.
Most stimulant overdoses might produce something called stimulant psychosis which has as a symptom "thought disorder" which might make you change your mind or make you do something stupid that you were trying to prevent in the first place. Also seizures are not something to look forward to.
Although sedative overdose also messes with your thought process, you will probably not be able to move or do anything about it. Go for sedatives.

No doctor or pharmacist in their right mind will give you a possibly lethal dose to take home with you so you have to save it until you have at least two or three bottles.

Sleep medication may seem like the best drug to use especially in combination with alcohol, but make sure you take enough. An overdose will relax you to such extent that your just stop breathing. This is called respiratory center depression, respiratory depression or respiratory failure. You can use this to search for the best sleeping solution. 5% can lead to paradoxical reactions. Meaning that you might not fall asleep at all. It's gonna be a bitch if you are one of those, but you will probably die anyway.

You know it's bad for your health to smoke it, but did you know nicotine is also a pesticide?
1 cigarette contains approximately 1mg, you need 30 to 60 milligrams(120 milligrams if you are a heavy smoker) so boil the packs of smokes for about an hour, take out the tobacco and keep boiling till most of the water has evaporated, the bitter tasting gooey substance is best taken with some coffee. But nicotine can also penetrate the skin easily so you could use it as an ointment. Alternatively you could stick all the nicotine patches of an entire pack on you at once. Now sit back and wait for any of the following, vomiting, nausea, diarrhea, headaches, fainting, difficulty breathing, pallor, sweating, palpitations, lisps, stomach pains/cramps/bloating, seizures, weakness, drooling, hypertension, stimulant psychosis and finally death. Scratch the coffee, make that a bottle of whiskey. If you are still alive after 4 hours, up the dosage. Didn't I tell you stimulants were a bad idea?

No way back from that one, but if you mess up with the dosage or pick the wrong one you are entering a world of pain. Really the only way to do it right is to do the homework.
There are many substances out there that are bad for you and will kill you. Almost anything can if you take enough of it. Even something as benign as water. The term we are looking for here is "Lethal dose 50" (LD 50) this amount will kill 50% of the test subjects. So you take twice that amount just to be sure. But that's the whole point. Even if you take 3 or 4 times that, there is always a chance that paramedics counter it or you just don't die from it. And almost all overdoses are slow painful deaths.
So do it in seclusion so those pesky medics can't get to you.
But there are a few exceptions.

The good poisons are generally well protected and regulated so they are difficult to get your hands on. Which makes this one of the hardest ways to kill yourself.

Botox yes, the preferred tool of beauty experts to prevent wrinkles. It actually is a severely watered down version of the most powerful toxin known to man called botulinum toxin. a mere 90–270 nanograms of botulinum toxin could be enough to kill an average 90-kg (200-lb) person, and four kg of the toxin, if evenly distributed, would be more than enough to kill the entire human population of the world.
That's how dangerous it is so there is no way you could get your hands on that right?
Well... there might be a way. It is a naturally occurring toxin produced by a bacteria that is commonly found in soil and water. It is the main reason why government agencies freak out when there are dead animals in the water in a hot season. The only thing this bacteria hates is oxygen and acid. I'm sure you can come up with a way to meet it and make friends with it. All it needs is a low oxygen environment that is nicely warm and moist. This little sucker's neurotoxin will paralyze your muscles and since the heart is a muscle and you need muscles to breathe... well you get the idea. This is painless but you might end up killing the one trying to give you mouth to mouth after you drank from your muddy water collection.

Carbon monoxide(CO)
It's a gas, so make sure nobody else breathes it in. This is the evil cousin of carbon dioxide(CO2), the stuff you breathe out. It binds to the red blood cells so they can't take up oxygen anymore. So that means if you whiff up enough of it, there is no way to save you other then treatment with 100% oxygen within minutes. Carbon dioxide is produced when stuff burns, carbon monoxide is produced when stuff burns with very little oxygen.
You might get a light headache and feel sleepy, then you die. Nice side effect is that you will look all pink cheeked and healthy.
How do you get your hands on something so wonderful?
Anything that burns but not quite good enough. Faulty furnaces, heaters, wood-burning stoves propane fueled equipment. Point is, they have to be faulty, which in our case means plug the air inlet until it nearly stops working. Car exhaust is a popular one, might be a bit smelly and make sure you don't have a catalytic converter installed.
There is also a nice plastic solvent called Dichloromethane or methylene chloride which niftily produces CO right in your blood when you inhale its fumes. Also it makes you blind, but you don't care about that right? Sadly it is now banned in Europe.
Alternatively you could fill a pan with wood chips or any other dry organic matter, put it on the stove or a special burner, the hotter the more gas will be produced. The resulting gas coming from that is called Syngas which is a mixture of non-toxic hydrogen and our precious carbon monoxide. This stuff is extremely flammable so keep it away from the fire by using a good sealing lid with a hole and a hose attached.

Oh poo poo, I will get into so much trouble posting this and leaving the comments switched on. But I do it all for the good cause. Let me know if any of my tips fail, I know I don't have to count on success stories. I'm not stupid. Those will be determined by process of elimination.

Please remember to copy, duplicate and share this. I don't know how long it will remain here. I might even be doing something illegal here. I'll have to look into that.


fart into a bag then breathe it until you starve

Skeleton King

I'll take another
yours op

Skeleton King

I'll take another
yours op

Skeleton King

I'll take another
yours op

Skeleton King

I'll take another
yours op

Professor Shark

Thanks Waltz! Any recs for cologne with Butane notes?

ditty bout my clitty

I can from personal experience confirm that all of these work. This is hell, by the way.



Best Death Thread?

not this one

the trump tutelage


Whirlwind Jones posted:

Death by cop after killing like 30 cops.


by XyloJW

butt rocket


by Ralp

nice no content thread op

sluggo is mad

im super rich and have a huge cock, so old age


~win DANCE repeat~

naked lady avalanche

Professor Shark

uG posted:

nice no content thread op

It took one more word than I think it should have


With you and the constellations
beaten about the face and neck by large penises

King of Internet

High King Internet of Internet


Take in as much air as you can.

This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, and then just a little bit longer. So listen as fast as you can.

A friend of mine, when he was thirteen years old he heard about "pegging." This is when a guy gets banged up the butt with a dildo. Stimulate the prostate gland hard enough, and the rumor is you can have explosive hands-free orgasms. At that age, this friend's a little sex maniac. He's always jonesing for a better way to get his rocks off. He goes out to buy a carrot and some petroleum jelly. To conduct a little private research. Then he pictures how it's going to look at the supermarket checkstand, the lonely carrot and petroleum jelly rolling down the conveyer belt toward the grocery store cashier. All the shoppers waiting in line, watching. Everyone seeing the big evening he has planned.

So, my friend, he buys milk and eggs and sugar and a carrot, all the ingredients for a carrot cake. And Vaseline.

Like he's going home to stick a carrot cake up his butt.

At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers it with grease and grinds his rear end down on it. Then, nothing. No orgasm. Nothing happens except it hurts.

Then, this kid, his mom yells it's suppertime. She says to come down, right now.

He works the carrot out and stashes the slippery, filthy thing in the dirty clothes under his bed.

After dinner, he goes to find the carrot and it's gone. All his dirty clothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry. No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paring knife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.

This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting for his folks to confront him. And they never do. Ever. Even now he's grown up, that invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, every birthday party. Every Easter egg hunt with his kids, his parents' grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them.

That something too awful to name.

People in France have a phrase: "Spirit of the Stairway." In French: Esprit de l'escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer, but it's too late. Say you're at a party and someone insults you. You have to say something. So under pressure, with everybody watching, you say something lame. But the moment you leave the party…

As you start down the stairway, then -- magic. You come up with the perfect thing you should've said. The perfect crippling put-down.

That's the Spirit of the Stairway.

The trouble is even the French don't have a phrase for the stupid things you actually do say under pressure. Those stupid, desperate things you actually think or do.

Some deeds are too low to even get a name. Too low to even get talked about.

Looking back, kid-psych experts, school counselors now say that most of the last peak in teen suicide was kids trying to choke while they beat off. Their folks would find them, a towel twisted around the kid's neck, the towel tied to the rod in their bedroom closet, the kid dead. Dead sperm everywhere. Of course the folks cleaned up. They put some pants on their kid. They made it look… better. Intentional at least. The regular kind of sad, teen suicide.

Another friend of mine, a kid from school, his older brother in the Navy said how guys in the Middle East jack off different than we do here. This brother was stationed in some camel country where the public market sells what could be fancy letter openers. Each fancy tool is just a thin rod of polished brass or silver, maybe as long as your hand, with a big tip at one end, either a big metal ball or the kind of fancy carved handle you'd see on a sword. This Navy brother says how Arab guys get their dick hard and then insert this metal rod inside the whole length of their boner. They jack off with the rod inside, and it makes getting off so much better. More intense.

It's this big brother who travels around the world, sending back French phrases. Russian phrases. Helpful jack-off tips.

After this, the little brother, one day he doesn't show up at school. That night, he calls to ask if I'll pick up his homework for the next couple weeks. Because he's in the hospital.

He's got to share a room with old people getting their guts worked on. He says how they all have to share the same television. All he's got for privacy is a curtain. His folks don't come and visit. On the phone, he says how right now his folks could just kill his big brother in the Navy.

On the phone, the kid says how -- the day before -- he was just a little stoned. At home in his bedroom, he was flopped on the bed. He was lighting a candle and flipping through some old porno magazines, getting ready to beat off. This is after he's heard from his Navy brother. That helpful hint about how Arabs beat off. The kid looks around for something that might do the job. A ball-point pen's too big. A pencil's too big and rough. But dripped down the side of the candle, there's a thin, smooth ridge of wax that just might work. With just the tip of one finger, this kid snaps the long ridge of wax off the candle. He rolls it smooth between the palms of his hands. Long and smooth and thin.

Stoned and horny, he slips it down inside, deeper and deeper into the piss slit of his boner. With a good hank of the wax still poking out the top, he gets to work.

Even now, he says those Arab guys are pretty drat smart. They've totally re-invented jacking off. Flat on his back in bed, things are getting so good, this kid can't keep track of the wax. He's one good squeeze from shooting his wad when the wax isn't sticking out anymore.

The thin wax rod, it's slipped inside. All the way inside. So deep inside he can't even feel the lump of it inside his piss tube.

From downstairs, his mom shouts it's suppertime. She says to come down, right now. This wax kid and the carrot kid are different people, but we all live pretty much the same life.

It's after dinner when the kid's guts start to hurt. It's wax so he figured it would just melt inside him and he'd pee it out. Now his back hurts. His kidneys. He can't stand straight.

This kid talking on the phone from his hospital bed, in the background you can hear bells ding, people screaming. Game shows.

The X-rays show the truth, something long and thin, bent double inside his bladder. This long, thin V inside him, it's collecting all the minerals in his piss. It's getting bigger and more rough, coated with crystals of calcium, it's bumping around, ripping up the soft lining of his bladder, blocking his piss from getting out. His kidneys are backed up. What little that leaks out his dick is red with blood.

This kid and his folks, his whole family, them looking at the black X-ray with the doctor and the nurses standing there, the big V of wax glowing white for everybody to see, he has to tell the truth. The way Arabs get off. What his big brother wrote him from the Navy.

On the phone, right now, he starts to cry.

They paid for the bladder operation with his college fund. One stupid mistake, and now he'll never be a lawyer.

Sticking stuff inside yourself. Sticking yourself inside stuff. A candle in your dick or your head in a noose, we knew it was going to be big trouble.

What got me in trouble, I called it Pearl Diving. This meant whacking off underwater, sitting on the bottom at the deep end of my parents' swimming pool. With one deep breath, I'd kick my way to the bottom and slip off my swim trucks. I'd sit down there for two, three, four minutes.

Just from jacking off, I had huge lung capacity. If I had the house to myself, I'd do this all afternoon. After I'd finally pump out my stuff, my sperm, it would hang there in big, fat, milky gobs.

After that was more diving, to catch it all. To collect it and wipe each handful in a towel. That's why it was called Pearl Diving. Even with chlorine, there was my sister to worry about. Or, Christ almighty, my Mom.

That used to be my worst fear in the world: my teenage virgin sister, thinking she's just getting fat, then giving birth to a two-headed retard baby. Both heads looking just like me. Me, the father AND the uncle.

In the end, it's never what you worry about that gets you.

The best part of Pearl Diving was the inlet port for the swimming pool filter and the circulation pump. The best part was getting naked and sitting on it.

As the French would say: Who doesn't like getting their butt sucked?

Still, one minute you're just a kid getting off, and the next minute you'll never be a lawyer.

One minute, I'm settling on the pool bottom, and the sky is wavy, light blue through eight feet of water above my head. The world is silent except for the heartbeat in my ears. My yellow-striped swim trunks are looped around my neck for safe keeping, just in case a friend, a neighbor, anybody shows up to ask why I skipped football practice. The steady suck of the pool inlet hole is lapping at me and I'm grinding my skinny white rear end around on that feeling.

One minute, I've got enough air, and my dick's in my hand. My folks are gone at their work and my sister's got ballet. Nobody's supposed to be home for hours.

My hand brings me right to getting off, and I stop. I swim up to catch another big breath. I dive down and settle on the bottom.

I do this again and again.

This must be why girls want to sit on your face. The suction is like taking a dump that never ends. My dick hard and getting my butt eaten out, I do not need air. My heartbeat in my ears, I stay under until bright stars of light start worming around in my eyes. My legs straight out, the back of each knee rubbed raw against the concrete bottom. My toes are turning blue, my toes and fingers wrinkled from being so long in the water.

And then I let it happen. The big white gobs start spouting. The pearls.

It's then I need some air. But when I go to kick off against the bottom, I can't. I can't get my feet under me. My rear end is stuck.

Emergency paramedics will tell you that every year about 150 people get stuck this way, sucked by a circulation pump. Get your long hair caught, or your rear end, and you're going to drown. Every year, tons of people do. Most of them in Florida.

People just don't talk about it. Not even French people talk about EVERYTHING.

Getting one knee up, getting one foot tucked under me, I get to half standing when I feel the tug against my butt. Getting my other foot under me, I kick off against the bottom. I'm kicking free, not touching the concrete, but not getting to the air, either.

Still kicking water, thrashing with both arms, I'm maybe halfway to the surface but not going higher. The heartbeat inside my head getting loud and fast.

The bright sparks of light crossing and criss-crossing my eyes, I turn and look back… but it doesn't make sense. This thick rope, some kind of snake, blue-white and braided with veins has come up out of the pool drain and it's holding onto my butt. Some of the veins are leaking blood, red blood that looks black underwater and drifts away from little rips in the pale skin of the snake. The blood trails away, disappearing in the water, and inside the snake's thin, blue-white skin you can see lumps of some half-digested meal.

That's the only way this makes sense. Some horrible sea monster, a sea serpent, something that's never seen the light of day, it's been hiding in the dark bottom of the pool drain, waiting to eat me.

So… I kick at it, at the slippery, rubbery knotted skin and veins of it, and more of it seems to pull out of the pool drain. It's maybe as long as my leg now, but still holding tight around my butthole. With another kick, I'm an inch closer to getting another breath. Still feeling the snake tug at my rear end, I'm an inch closer to my escape.

Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see a long bright-orange ball. It's the kind of horse-pill vitamin my Dad makes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship. With extra iron and omega-three fatty acids.

It's seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life.

It's not a snake. It's my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me. What doctors call, prolapsed. It's my guts sucked into the drain.

Paramedics will tell you a swimming pool pump pulls 80 gallons of water every minute. That's about 400 pounds of pressure. The big problem is we're all connected together inside. Your rear end is just the far end of your mouth. If I let go, the pump keeps working - unraveling my insides -- until it's got my tongue. Imagine taking a 400-pound poo poo, and you can see how this might turn you inside out.

What I can tell you is your guts don't feel much pain. Not the way your skin feels pain. The stuff you're digesting, doctor's call it fecal matter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin runny mess studded with corn and peanuts and round green peas.

That's all this soup of blood and corn, poo poo and sperm and peanuts floating around me. Even with my guts unraveling out my rear end, me holding onto what's left, even then my first want is to somehow get my swimsuit back on.

God forbid my folks see my dick.

My one hand holding a fist around my rear end, my other hand snags my yellow-striped swim trunks and pulls them from around my neck. Still, getting into them is impossible.

You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lamb-skin condoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smear it with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then, try to tear it. Try to pull it in half. It's too tough and rubbery. It's so slimy you can't hold on.

A lamb-skin condom, that's just plain old intestine.

You can see what I'm up against.

You let go for a second, and you're gutted.

You swim for the surface, for a breath, and you're gutted.

You don't swim, and you drown.

It's a choice between being dead right now or a minute from right now.

What my folks will find after work is a big naked fetus, curled in on itself. Floating in the cloudy water of their backyard pool. Tethered to the bottom by a thick rope of veins and twisted guts. The opposite of a kid hanging himself to death while he jacks off. This is the baby they brought home from the hospital thirteen years ago. Here's the kid they hoped would snag a football scholarship and get an MBA. Who'd care for them in their old age. Here's all their hopes and dreams. Floating here, naked and dead. All around him, big milky pearls of wasted sperm.

Either that or my folks will find me wrapped in a bloody towel, collapsed halfway from the pool to the kitchen telephone, the ragged, torn scrap of my guts still hanging out the leg of my yellow-striped swim trunks.

What even the French won't talk about.

That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. A Russian phrase. The way we say: "I need that like I need a hole in my head…" Russian people say: "I need that like I need teeth in my rear end in a top hat…"

Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse

Those stories about how animals caught in a trap will chew off their leg, well, any coyote would tell you a couple bites beats the hell out of being dead.

Hell… even if you're Russian, some day you just might want those teeth.

Otherwise, what you have to do is -- you have to twist around. You hook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. You bite and snap at your own rear end. You run out of air, and you will chew through anything to get that next breath.

It's not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night.

If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari.

It's hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I'd got in trouble or how I'd saved myself. After the hospital, my Mom said, "You didn't know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock." And she learned how to cook poached eggs.

All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me…

I need that like I need teeth in my rear end in a top hat.

Nowadays, people always tell me I look too skinny. People at dinner parties get all quiet and pissed off when I don't eat the pot roast they cooked. Pot roast kills me. Baked ham. Anything that hangs around inside my guts for longer than a couple hours, it comes out still food. Home-cooked lima beans or chunk light tuna fish, I'll stand up and find it still sitting there in the toilet.

After you have a radical bowel resectioning, you don't digest meat so great. Most people, you have five feet of large intestine. I'm lucky to have my six inches. So I never got a football scholarship. Never got an MBA. Both my friends, the wax kid and the carrot kid, they grew up, got big, but I've never weighed a pound more than I did that day when I was thirteen.

Another big problem was my folks paid a lot of good money for that swimming pool. In the end my Dad just told the pool guy it was a dog. The family dog fell in and drowned. The dead body got pulled into the pump. Even when the pool guy cracked open the filter casing and fished out a rubbery tube, a watery hank of intestine with a big orange vitamin pill still inside, even then, my Dad just said, "That dog was loving nuts."

Even from my upstairs bedroom window, you could hear my Dad say, "We couldn't trust that dog alone for a second…"

Then my sister missed her period.

Even after they changed the pool water, after they sold the house and we moved to another state, after my sister's abortion, even then my folks never mentioned it again.


That is our invisible carrot.

You. Now you can take a good, deep breath.

I still have not.


~win DANCE repeat~

lmbo not reading either of the two mega posts in this thread. ya'll can eat poo poo and die

Seizure Meat

by Smythe

Phil Niekro

Delaying the forces of Shu so Lord Cao Cao may escape to safety.


Because it never leaves its bedroom, no one has ever seen this poster's real face.
anybody posted mr hands yet

mr hands

i am he

hello gbs!

i am he

cops, BAD!

Sandwich Anarchist

A poptart is a pizza.

pursuing lu bu


dogcrash truther

by Lowtax

i am he posted:

cops, BAD!

Death: Bad...or Good?

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