Would This Be A Fitting Death?

[Jagshund]

I'm 340 pages into what should be a ~400 page book (don't get excited, it'll only be good for lining bird cages and wrapping fish). In the story, there's a Hispanic drug lord living in the Middle Tennessee area whose death needs to be mentioned. The narrator is aware of future events here only because he's reflecting on the past in order to tell the story . . . there's a name for that . . . the dealer's name is Filip Sanchez Guarchez-Rodriguez but he is known as The Badger.

Anyhow, that kickin' Elvis thread we had inspired me to change the COD to

Originally Posted by book excerpt

You’ll note that I refer to the man in the past tense . . . this is because he is indeed dead, but not due to some drug deal gone wrong or a fierce turf dispute No, Filip died of blood poisoning. The condition apparently resulted from a ruptured intestine, likley brought to fruition by a diet consisting solely of half-rack cheese burritos. I’d always said the man was full of **** but it turned out that he actually was, to the point of bursting. There was a rumor going around for years after his death that the coroner's report listed The Badger's poop as weighing 35 lbs., which in my book has to be some sort of record.

Not sure if this is medically accurate, but I think if your poo made its way into your blood it would be kinda like a turd punji stick. Anyhow, I'm looking for embarassing ways to die that aren't too far fetched (I had considered electrification via fence while experimenting with livestock). Remember, this guy was a bad, bad man and so the more embarassing the death the better.

Throw 'em out there. I do appreciate all of your feedback.

[nynor]

this happens all the time, BTW. ruptured or necrotic bowel due to constipation/blockage. systemic blood poisoning and septic shock follows. death.

[Rich Lambert]

Local News | Enumclaw-area animal-sex case investigated | Seattle Times Newspaper

Different, but poop related and definitely embarassing.

[nynor]

i remember when that first showed up on the news. a fitting death, if you ask me.

[aigel]

What's a half rack cheese burrito?

Even burritos ... generally Mexicans don't eat a lot of burritos.

George

[MBAtarga]

death by snu snu!

[nynor]

Originally Posted by MBAtarga

death by snu snu!

i had to google that. funny stuff.

[HHI944]

I didn't have to google that, and it made me burst out laughing!

[Dueller]

Accidental death by autoerotic asphyxiation...

[GWN7]

We just had a case where a guy tryed to off himself with a ramset. Took some pills and shot a 3" concrete nail thru his forehead. Woke up with a wicked headache, blood ozing from the wound and had no idea what happened.

[sc_rufctr]

Does he have to die quickly?

What about he gets type 2 diabetes and he doesn't follow his diet or take his medication properly.
It's like food is his enemy. He loves eating but it's the worst thing for his Diabetes.
Then as the years pass he progressively gets worse and worse. (and fatter and fatter)
He has to live with his past crimes that haunt him and because of his illness he can't deal drugs any more so his finances are slowly dwindling.
Eventually he's in a wheel chair and living in poverty.

Then he starts to loose parts of his body. The Diabetes never lets up. They have to start cutting parts of his body off to stop the spread of gangrene.
First both his legs bellow the knees then fingers one by one. Also at this time he's on Dialysis because his kidneys have failed.

Eventually he dies from a heart attack while sitting in his wheel chair...
He could do a loud fart followed by a huge poo just before he dies for a bit of black humour.

[Bill Douglas]

He wakes up married to Madonna and commits suicide.

[ckissick]

How about he's standing on a street corner with his Chihuahua when a truck full of Abba-Zabba candy bars goes out of control and squashes the dog, dragging it into the street. Distraught, Filip runs after the dog, only to be flattened by a truck hauling kosher pickles.

[sammyg2]

The fatal cost of gangster fashion
Jemima Lewis struggles to find sympathy for a gangster tripped up by his own baggy pants.

Here's a story to round off the year: a murderous New York gangster tripped over his own baggy trousers last week and fell to his death. Hector Quinones, 44, was in the middle of an apparently drugs-related killing spree when his low-slung trousers fell down and tripped him up. One of his would-be victims fled on to the fire escape of her apartment block; Quinones yanked up his trousers and struggled after her, but no sooner had he reached the fire escape than they fell down again, and he toppled overboard.

One would not, of course, wish such an undignified death upon anyone – not even someone as nasty as Quinones appears to have been. Yet there is a certain satisfaction in seeing the most ludicrous craze in men's fashion since petticoat breeches so graphically exposed.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Man killed by shards of glass after hurling girlfriend through shop window
Daily Mail Reporter
Last updated at 10:58 AM on 11th August 2009

A man bled to death when he was impaled on a large shard of glass after throwing his girlfriend through a shop window in a street row.
The 30-year-old victim was seen arguing with the woman in the Regent Street area of London's West End shortly after 2am today.
Witnesses told police he hurled the woman against the window of a branch of Banana Republic up to three times.
Street row: A police officer outside clothes store Banana Republic in Regent Street, where a man was killed by shards of glass after throwing his girlfriend at a window
After several blows, the glass shattered and the couple fell through, leaving the man fatally wounded.
He is believed to have suffered injuries to an artery and bled to death.

Members of the public flagged down a police patrol who went to the shop, at the junction of Regent Street and Great Marlborough Street.
Paramedics arrived at the scene but were unable to save him. A post-mortem examination will take place today.
The woman, also 30, was taken to hospital for treatment to multiple cuts, none of which are thought to be life-threatening.
A Metropolitan Police spokesman said that shortly before 2.15am, officers on patrol were informed by a member of the public of an altercation in Great Marlborough Street.
'When officers arrived at Great Marlborough Street, they found a male, believed to have gone through the window of a shop. A woman was also found at the scene, suffering cuts.
'London Ambulance Service attended but the man, aged 30, was pronounced dead at the scene.
Police believe they know who the dead man is but are trying to contact his next of kin before releasing his name.


And the ulimate:

The legends surrounding the death of Rasputin are perhaps even more mysterious and bizarre than his life. According to Greg King's 1996 book The Man Who Killed Rasputin, a previous attempt on Rasputin's life had failed: Rasputin was visiting his wife and children in Pokrovskoye, his hometown along the Tura River in Siberia. On June 29, 1914, after either just receiving a telegram or exiting church, he was attacked suddenly by Khionia Guseva, a former prostitute who had become a disciple of the monk Iliodor.
Iliodor, who once was a friend of Rasputin but had grown absolutely disgusted with his behaviour and disrespectful talk about the royal family, had appealed to women who had been harmed by Rasputin to form a mutual support group. Guseva thrust a knife into Rasputin's abdomen, and his entrails hung out of what seemed like a mortal wound. Convinced of her success, Guseva supposedly screamed, "I have killed the antichrist!"

After intensive surgery, however, Rasputin recovered. It was said of his survival that "the soul of this cursed muzhik was sewn on his body." His daughter, Maria, pointed out in her memoirs that he was never the same man after that: he seemed to tire more easily and frequently took opium for pain relief.

On December 16, 1916, having decided that Rasputin's influence over the Tsaritsa had made him a far-too-dangerous threat to the empire, a group of nobles led by Prince Felix Yusupov and the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich and the right-wing politician Vladimir Purishkevich, apparently lured Rasputin to the Yusupovs' Moika Palace[, by intimating that Felix's wife, Princess Irina would be present and receiving friends (In point of fact, she was away at the Crimea). The group led him down to the cellar, where they served him cakes and red wine laced with a massive amount of cyanide. According to legend, Rasputin was unaffected, although Vasily Maklakov had supplied enough poison to kill five men. Conversely, Maria's account asserts that, if her father did eat or drink poison, it was not in the cakes or wine, because after the attack by Guseva he suffered from hyperacidity and avoided anything with sugar. In fact, she expresses doubt that he was poisoned at all. It has been suggested, on the other hand, that Rasputin had developed an immunity to poison due to Mithridatism.

Determined to finish the job, Yusupov became anxious about the possibility that Rasputin might live until the morning, leaving the conspirators no time to conceal his body. Yusupov ran upstairs to consult the others and then came back down to shoot Rasputin through the back with a revolver. Rasputin fell, and the company left the palace for a while. Yusupov, who had left without a coat, decided to return to get one, and, while at the palace, he went to check up on the body. Suddenly, Rasputin opened his eyes and lunged at Prince Yusupov. When he grabbed Prince Yusupov he ominously whispered in Yusupov's ear "you bad boy" and attempted to strangle him. At that moment, however, the other conspirators arrived and fired at him. After being hit three times in the back, Rasputin fell once more. As they neared his body, the party found that, remarkably, he was still alive, struggling to get up. They clubbed him into submission and castrated him. After binding his body and wrapping him in a carpet, they threw him into the icy Neva River. He broke out of his bonds and the carpet wrapping him, but drowned in the river.

Three days later, the body of Rasputin, poisoned, shot four times, badly beaten, and drowned, was recovered from the Neva River. An autopsy established that the cause of death was drowning. His arms were found in an upright position, as if he had tried to claw his way out from under the ice. It was found that he had indeed been poisoned, and that the poison alone should have been enough to kill him. There is a report that after his body was recovered, water was found in the lungs, supporting the idea that he was still alive before submersion into the partially frozen river.

Subsequently, the Tsaritsa Alexandra buried Rasputin's body in the grounds of Tsarskoye Selo, but, after the February Revolution, a group of workers from Saint Petersburg uncovered the remains, carried them into the nearby woods and burnt them. As the body of Rasputin was being burned, he appeared to sit up in the fire. His apparent attempts to move and get up thoroughly horrified bystanders. The effect can probably be attributed to improper cremation; since his body was in inexperienced hands, his tendons were probably not cut before burning. Consequently, when his body was heated, the tendons shrunk, forcing his legs to bend, and his body to bend at the waist, resulting in it appearing to sit up. This final happenstance only poured fuel on the fire of legends and mysteries surrounding Rasputin, which continue to live on long after his death.

[lane912]

Originally Posted by sc_rufctr

Does he have to die quickly?

What about he gets type 2 diabetes and he doesn't follow his diet or take his medication properly.
It's like food is his enemy. He loves eating but it's the worst thing for his Diabetes.
Then as the years pass he progressively gets worse and worse. (and fatter and fatter)
He has to live with his past crimes that haunt him and because of his illness he can't deal drugs any more so his finances are slowly dwindling.
Eventually he's in a wheel chair and living in poverty.

Then he starts to loose parts of his body. The Diabetes never lets up. They have to start cutting parts of his body off to stop the spread of gangrene.
First both his legs bellow the knees then fingers one by one. Also at this time he's on Dialysis because his kidneys have failed.

Eventually he dies from a heart attack while sitting in his wheel chair...
He could do a loud fart followed by a huge poo just before he dies for a bit of black humour.

i knew a guy that had a similar condition due to cigarette smoking. the nicotine would cause arterial constriction in the extremities and then gangrene sets in and the libs come off. when they took off both legs at the knee and one arm at the elbow, i stopped visiting. even after that he kept smoking.
after that i couldn't be around him anymore, it really bothered me

[M.D. Holloway]

As the Badger lay on his sofa watching Soccer, he glanced out the window to the gardeners. He watched as they toiled in his flower beds and cut his lawn to a meticulous 2 7/8 of an inch. The Badger was passionate about his lawn being just so. Something didn’t look right. He sat up and saw that the setting for the mower was set to three inches. Having spent many hot days in his youth cutting lawns with his uncles he could instantly tell the length of the grass as well as the mower setting from fifty feet away. He rushed out the patio door, picked up a Pitching Wedge that was lying in wait and proceeded to beat the lawn boy over the back with it. The boy stumbled away, bruised and confused. The Badger proceeded to swear and holler at the crew who at this time had decided to quickly escape his wrath.

The Badger stood on his back lawn, fat belly hanging over his silk boxer shorts and his bathrobe barely covering his shoulders. A bead of sweat on his brow and a Pitching Wedge still held tightly, the Badger decided to finish the job himself. As he was pulling the mower into position, his bare right foot slipped and slid under the turning, hungry blade shaving the side of his foot clean off. The Badger let out a tremendous scream that could be heard down the road. He quickly pulled his foot out to find exposed bone and sinew on a partial foot. He tried to stand but found the pain to be too great. His head began to feel light. A cold blanket enveloped his chest and shoulders. He crawled into the house to the bathroom off the main kitchen. He propped himself up and in doing so slipped on the floor. His massive head met the edge of the countertop with such force, a piece of the marble broke off. A large gash above his right eye was now pumping blood onto his face and into his eye. His breathing became heavy and he could taste his own blood as he gasped for air. His blood didn’t taste as sweet as his victims. In times past, the Badger would lick his enemy’s mortal wounds as they lay dying. He liked the sweet taste of their blood and would often comment that fact to them before they would pass. He was not enjoying the taste of his own blood.

[M.D. Holloway]

The Badger knew he needed medical attention and slowly and deliberately made it to his car. He was able to prop himself up and attempt to drive. This feat was going to be very problematic. The car he picked was his Ferrari which although low to the ground making for an easy entrance, shifting into gear was another issue entirely. Pressing in the clutch with his left foot he started the engine and engaged the shift into reverse. He tried to step on the brake in order to control the rapid jerking that was about to control but the open would proved too painful to apply any pressure to. Blood poured from his foot and his head wound. He felt cold and nauseous. In utter frustration he rammed the shift into first and pressed down the accelerator with all his might. The car leaped forward, accelerating to 45mph in less than a second only to come to an abrupt stop against an Alabaster statue of the Virgin Mary. The Badgers face met the steering wheel with such force that his nose buckled in and burst into a bloody mash. As the Badger raised his head, the statue of the Virgin Mary slowly began to topple and her face kissed his through the windshield. Shards of glass entered his eyes, cheeks and mouth as the Virgins forehead met his cracking his cranium and exposing his cerebral cortex.

Hours passed. A passersby noticed crows circling the driveway of the Badgers home. The Badger's Red Ferrari was resting under the Virgin Mary, crows lunching on brain matter of the Badger as he softly wept, hands motionless due to a severed spine.

[gchappel]

As a writer- please do not use the term blood poisoning. It would be like writing about a porsche mechanic that was killed with a wrenchy thing. There is no such thing as blood poisoning, nor is it a correct medical term. Call it septicemia, bacteremia, whatever. With a perforated bowel- just say he died of peritonitis.
Gary

[M.D. Holloway]

needs a little work but you get the idea...don't drive a F-car specailly wit a bloody foot!

[Laneco]

I think that Filipe should die while performing a sex act with an extremely obese woman... In the throes of her passion she fails to notice that he is flailing frantically to lift her massive bulk off of HIS FACE!!!! BWAHAHAAA!!!!

angela