Error 404: No reason for person above to die. You are dead.

I sit on the toilet do my business.

As you do your business, you hear an odd gurgle from the toilet?  Looking down, you see a small ripple in the water that quickly fades.  After a moment, you turn your attention back to the project at hand.  When you are almost done, you hear the same odd gurgle from the toilet.  Looking down again, you think you see something move, startled, you start to stand.  Suddenly, a several tentacles burst from the bowl, springing forth to grab hold of you.  With a violent pull, the tentacle monster yanks you back to the toilet before pulling you down into the bowl and down the pipes, snapping your bones and crushing your body as you are pulled through a pipe that was much smaller than you.  You are dead. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, I step out of the hospital with a clean bill of health!

The second you step outside, you get hit by a truck. Not so clean anymore, huh?
You are dead.
I'm typing out a long review.

When you finished typing out your review, you noticed you have typed your fingers to a point where they are bleeding. You wrapped some bandages and you noticed they haven't stopped bleeding. The bandages are being soaked in blood. You call 911. An ambulance stops by and pick you up. On your way to the ambulance you notice that a man got ran over by a truck after stating his clean bill of health. You are growing unconscious from the blood and pain of your fingers. You are in the hospital, however, they realized there is nothing they could do about it.

You are dead on arrival.

I just bought a game on Steam.

Your computer now has too many games, so it overheats and thus explodes, killing you on the spot.

I go to a far away galaxy.

And forget to bring your space suit. Your body violently decompresses in the vacuum of space. Your freeze dried husk of a body continues to drift through the vacuum of space until it is caught by the gravity of an insignificant star system millions of years later. Over the coming decades, your body drifts leisurely towards the system's star where you cease to exist in a tiny flare as you reach the star system's star. You are Dead.

Me and a friend unload the couch from my van and we begin to carry it towards the house where we intend to put it.

Halfway to your house the couch falls down and crushes your big toe. You exclaim in pain as you try to remove the couch from your injured foot. However the more you struggle the harder the couch pushes down on your foot. You realize that the couch is secretly alien technology, as a mechanical claw extends out and forcibly drags you down. Your body is destroyed as is penetrates the concrete and is taken down to centre of the earth for reptilian aliens to experiment on. 

Woah. That was intense. Oh, yeah, you're dead by the way.

I just jumped into a gorilla pen to combat BoBo the ape.

You cannot match BoBo's strength and your head is torn off your body.
You are dead.
I'm sitting at home, playing with my windmills.

And then they turn life size and you are still playing with the blade portions of the windmills and they spin at supersonic speed and chop your hands and the rest of your body up into small sushi pieces and you are left with no arms or body and you are a mass of bleeding body parts on the floor. You are dead. 

I am sitting at home studying for an ap exam while reading chapters of the book with it, how could I possibly be killed as a result of this? 

Rubbing your eyes after long hours of study, you realize that your room has taken on an odd green glow.  Looking around, you quickly realize that the source of the odd glow is coming from outside your bedroom window.  Pulling the string on your venetian blinds, you are engulfed in a blinding flash of green light.  The next thing you know, you find yourself strapped to a cold, firm, and oddly conforming surface.  All around you is glaring white lights, with dark forms surrounding you, speaking in some odd language that you have never heard before.  As your eyes slowly focus, you realize that the dark forms around you are strange looking men in silver jumpsuits.  Their translucent green skin seems to pulse, and their saucer like black eyes seem focused on you.  One of the odd men raises some form of probe into your field of vision, and you could swear that one of the others lets out a strangely human laugh.  The following days are filled with weird medical tools, excruciatingly painful surgeries that you cant even begin to understand, and strange and often disturbing probes.  Once your body finally expires, your alien captors take great pleasure doing even further terrible things to you before finally dissecting you for their own strange science.  You are dead.

I pull the pin on my final grenade, throwing at the advancing horde or zombies.  Grunting with the effort, I take a split second to assess my situation only to realize that the rest of my group are either dead or dieing as they are torn limb for limb by the flesh eating undead zombies.  Pulling my last full clip of ammunition, I reload my firearm and take aim at the nearest of the rapidly approaching zombies.

You fail to notice a zombie approaching from behind. He bites you, but you manage to turn around and shoot it. While you are distracted with that, however, the hoarde behind you catches up to you and eats you alive.
You are dead.
I'm going to the cinema.

Because you have lost the ticket for " Vizzed: the retro stranger", the guard spots you while you try to enter the saloon. However, you manage to escape and hide under a chair! Now, a very fat man sits on the chair where you are hidden! Because of the fat man, the chair breaks and you get squished!
You are dead.

I am going to test a gun...

Ah, but going to test my gun is the middle of the story, let me start from the beginning.

I'm a cutthroat relater, I've never worried about who I stepped on, or screwed over in order to make a dollar.  I've lied, cheated, and blatantly stole property in every way imaginable in order to become the rich, successful person I am today.  You'd think people would be more understanding given that everyone desires to become a success, right?

A few months ago, I had an entire nursing home shut down on a technicality, simply so I could sell it to a corporation to be developed.  I made a killing off it!  Who really cares about all the old people who were displaced by the move?  Or the few that could no longer receive the care they needed because of it?  In hindsight, maybe I should have showed a little more compassion when having the tenants moved.

A few days after the sale had been finalized, but before the move took place, I received a simple letter in the mail, with no return address.  The letter begged, no, pleaded with me to reconsider the sale, or at least to take special care of the tenants to ensure a new, affordable home for them.  But with a chuckle, I tossed the letter in the trash and went on with my day. 

As the move approached, I received another letter, the tone more desperate than the first.  The big difference in this letter is that it ended with a threat, I take care of the tenants properly and with compassion, or there would be terrible consequences to myself.  Like before, I chuckled and threw the letter out.  But this time, the letter started to nag at my mind, making me paranoid.  A day later, I went to a local gun store to purchase a hand gun, along with a case of ammo. 

The following day, and every day for the next week leading to the finalization of the move, I woke in the morning in a cold sweat, trembling in fear as I thought about what horrible things this anonymous person had planned. 

Finally, the day after all the money was transferred, I woke in the morning, grabbing my handgun and the case of ammo, figuring that it may be best for me to test it out.  I got into my expensive car and drove myself to the local firing range.  Within a few minutes, I had a private lane at the firing range and started to load the gun. 

Carefully, with trembling hands, I aimed at the target and squeezed the trigger, nothing happened.  For the next several minutes, I try to figure out what is wrong, only to discover that I had the safety on.  With the safety off, I turn the gun towards myself, looking down the barrel to make sure it is clear, in the process, accidentally pulling the trigger, blowing my own brains out all over the ceiling.

You are dead.


Setting in the restaurant, I finish the last few bits of my delicious hamburger and fries.  With a satisfied groan, I loosen my belt and reach for the last little piece of pickle setting on the plate.

When you finally eat that pickle, it was enough to make the band in your stomach explode. This is quite interesting as your hunger increases when a man in a wheelchair comes through. You feel like you haven't ate in days. You order more food, and you start eating it, your belly increases size, you are still hungry, you keep eating more and more and more. Until you can't stuff any more food in your throat, you grab something to use to stuff the food further down, a toilet sponge. You keep feeding yourself food and food until you choke yourself to death. Nobody notices you until it was too late.

You are dead

I got sued for copyright due to the fact I used a reference from a show I liked...

You are sentenced to death. Something goes wrong during the execution and you perish slowly and painfully.
You are dead.
I'm walking to the zoo to shoot a rabid wolf.

The wolf is, in truth, Kain from Altered Beast, as you  pull back the slide/bolt of your gun, he rises onto his hinds and launches a huge ball of flames which engulf you and any close by.

You are dead.

I'm just exploring Vizzed.

But it quickly turns into an obsession.  Hour after hour, day after day, you spend your time glued to your computer until one day, your body is so frail and malnourished that you collapse.  But since your life has evolved around vizzed for so long, no one but your online friends even notice your absence.  Lacking the strength to stand, or even crawl to the phone for help, you lay on the floor for days before you die.  You are dead.

I look out my window at the snow as it falls lazily to the ground, happy to have my loving family around me and all the comforts of home at my fingertips.

After 6 consecutive weeks of snow, your house is fully covered in snow and there is no way out. After a another week or so, you starve to death.

I am sitting lazily on a bench in Central park.

You sit, and sit, and sit. You sit there for a whole month, because you don't have the energy to stand up. You become something of a local legend, as you have been stationary for so long that people can't make out if you're a human or a strange-looking natural feature. The authorities decide to remove you from the bench and send you to the local landfill. There, you try to escape, but you have no energy. You get trapped under several thousand pounds of waste that suffocates you.
You are dead.
I'm walking around downtown, looking for something interesting.

When a large truck broadsides you out of nowhere, splattering you all over the front of the truck, the street, and many of the pedestrians in the area.  You are dead.

I groggily get out of bed after getting very little sleep and make my way downstairs to my computer to check my email like I do every morning.