Congratulations on Dying When the Bridge You're On Collapses!

Her mouth will be wrapped around your penis when the supports go.  “She” will be the girl you’ve been fucking behind her husband’s back for the last seven months.  As the fall begins and the seat belt holds you down you’ll know for a fact, feel in your bones (and your bone zone HEYO) that you’re going to die.  Irreverent and dickish to the last, you’ll clutch the ponytail at the back of her head and drive her throat down on to your dick in an effort to achieve one last self-serving orgasm before the end comes.

It’ll work almost too well.  As you thrust into the back of her throat you’ll arch your back in your seat so that the impact of the car hitting the water snaps you forward and extends your neck, snapping it so violently that your spine will sever itself.  Your grip will relax and her head will speed away from your penis upon the moment of orgasm, but you’ll die all the same, jizm dribbling out of your penis and down your pants while your horrified concubine swims out of the open window of your car, even as water pours into it, and towards the surface.

She’ll emerge into light, one of a handful of bridgegoers with the temerity and foolishness to not wear their seatbelts and/or awkwardly position themselves over a relative stranger’s penis to correct some low self-esteem issues that emerged earlier in childhood.  She’ll resolve, as she begins to swim towards the shore, that she’ll go back home to her husband and never speak of you to him, to anyone really, spending the rest of her life as a faithful wife.  She’ll tell herself that this is god’s will, but really it will be her fear guiding her towards the shore.

Congratulations on Dying When the Bridge You’re On Collapses!

Congratulations on Fucking Your Wife's Sister!

Today you’re going to be driving home from your job and you’re going to get lost.

“Shit!” you’ll shout at the sky. “Where the fuck am I?!”

You’ll shrug at the air and then drive to your wife’s sister’s house. She’ll open the door and smile at you.

“Hi!” she’ll say, waving at you energetically. You’ll wink at her and she’ll shrug. Then the two of you will go into her house and bone like wild boning machines.

“That was fair to middling,” she’ll declare the ceiling as you figure out just what to do next.

Eventually you’ll try to kill her with a pillow, but she’ll overpower you and force you to your car, where you’ll drive home because you know how to get from her house to your house pretty well. Maybe that’s why you went to her house in the first place. That and you’ve always liked her more than your wife for reasons you really couldn’t articulate.

Congratulations on Fucking Your Wife’s Sister!

Congratulations on Blinding Yourself with the Cold!

Today you’re going to be out indulging in your first and greatest love: rubbing your face violently into permafrost.

“I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!” you’ll shout as your girlfriend approaches you with some lotion and a glass of warm milk.

“I know, honey,” she’ll say, sitting next to you on the ground as you violently press yourself against it. She’ll bite her lip and glance at the ground, away from you, which will be strange. She loves watching you rub yourself against the ground normally.

“WHAT’S WRONG, DEAR?” you’ll scream at her, since that’s the only way you can comfortably speak from the ground.

She’ll bite her lip and let loose a deep sigh before she announces to you. “I don’t feel the same way about watching you rub your face against frozen ground until you almost die.” Your body will go cold, not just because of the horrible cold you’re pressing it against. It’ll be the cold of sudden heartbreak, the cold of realizing that the life you built for yourself is collapsing.

Blinking in disbelief, you’ll pause in your constantly efforts to look at her. She’ll be beautiful, just as beautiful as the day you met her. But the way she looks at you, you’ll understand what she sees: a dirty man in a tattered parka rubbing himself ceaselessly against the earth.

“IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE?” you’ll scream at her, furious this time, although it’ll be impossible to tell from the intonation of your voice.

She won’t speak. She won’t be able to speak. She’ll just run away and leave you there on the dirt, weeping. You’ll redouble your efforts to grind yourself into the ground, still inconsolable.

“THIS IS ALL I HAVE LEFT!” you’ll shout, grinding your face into the frozen earth until your tears freeze to it and it takes a team of doctors to pry you away. They will be unable to save your eyes.

Congratulations on Blinding Yourself with the Cold!