The Killing Effect
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Stories of mass murder, natural disasters, and all other destructive occurrence all contribute to the cause, the cause to kill.You see, what happens to the house of the people who die. They are filled with new families starting off. These families are then haunted by miserable souls, but thats the beauty of the killing effect, that new can overtake the old. If you want to follow me with this theory then embark on the stories I am about to tell.
edit Mister KillHe was seen walking down the street when the unspeakable happened. It wasn't provoked or anything, the most perilous psychotic act in the most innocent suburban town. This man was given the name Mister Kill, because it seemed the only people to meet him were killed. It was on a Sunday, the day of worship, when Mister Kill flung the door open of an idling car. With unspeakable rage his actions are what follows; He grabbed the knife from his pocket and he pulled out the blade.Without regret it seemed, he started to stab the person in the passenger seat repeatedly. Stab after stab the driver sit there motionless waiting for whether or not the maniac will kill him next. No. Instead Mister K(for short) took the blood of his most recent victim and flung it all over the driver intending to wash him with blood. This act of random murder caused there to be blood all over the dreaded Mister K, with only a knife in his hand and blood on his clothes he made his way to the pregnant women standing still across the street. She had just heard the cries from the driver when Mister K took her by surprise. Although he finds enjoyment in children he hates the fuzziness of ultrasound photos, so Mister K thought he would take it upon himself to see what a baby really looks like in the womb. With his left hand he grabbed and threw the pregnant woman to the ground. Her purple dress didn't stand a chance against the knife Mister K used to gut the woman. The baby was untouched until Mister K got his hands on it. There are two things that went through Mister K's mind at this moment in time; He first was able to determine that the baby was in fact a boy, and that it was the ugliest baby he has ever seen. He thought that would be something too mean to say to the mother considering the situation so he just thought that she could have the baby back.
With anger in his eyes and the realization that cops would be here any-minute Mister K thought it would be about time to finally move in. He chose the first house he saw on the market, the one across the street with the nice looking lawn. It seemed the residents were there to stay but that didn't matter for Mister K. "Any house would do" he thought, "they are all the same in this godforsaken town anyway," he thought. With people fearing all around him he made his way to the Hensons.Now let me tell you about the Hensons, they are nothing to worry about. There is the husband, whose name is Mark and his wife who is to be named Tubby, now they have four beautiful children. This is not commonly seen anymore in modern american homes with all those mouths to feed, but Mark does a good job at the gun factory. That's right, Mark works at a gun factory. He doesn't assemble them or anything, he actually designs and builds the first prototypes that are then used to put on the market, and in some cases the black market. Now after the design and prototypes have been approved for production the models Mark has made are either put on display or rather sent over to Mark for him to use them at his discretion. These prototypes work like all the other guns being fully functional and all, giving, well, Mister K the perfect place to have a last stand. If he wants to go out in a bang thats all. Although, unfortunately for Mark and his family they are currently all having dinner, stuffing their faces in what appears to be their last meal of the day.
"Here's Johnny!" screams Mister K, as he has just kicked down the post-colonial designed door.
"What in the Hell!" Oh, well needless to say, sitting at the head of the table with the chair being closest to the door, wasn't the best place to sit for papa Henson, if you ask me, because, well... he was the first to get it. With a swift jab to the neck, and a knife in the eye, Mark, the 'loving devoted husband', so says the gravestone, took it to his knees in front of another man, and lets just say for the sake of the argument, he wasn't the one that came.
"Oh God, KIDS make your way outside! RUN!" Never has Mister K heard a woman yell so loudly in his life, not even from the ones he's banged have even yelped due to the pain of his chode-like penis. Its six inches in the direction opposite to length. Anyway, this is unacceptable, Mister K expects there to be everyone sitting at the table when he comes home for dinner, so one by one he takes the fleeing children and quickly cuts the ligaments in their legs, stopping them from doing any sort of activity that would mean the unexcused event of leaving the table. Mrs.Henson was in fear. She fled to the kitchen as she saw her kids placed in their chairs. Her intentions were to get a knife, but you see, Mister K already had one, and you can't have two people cutting the turkey, so he had to stuff her, and stuff her good.
As the eldest son, Harold, crawled on the floor like an army commando he flinched at each scream from his squealing mother. It sounded like rape to him, and he didn't want to stick around and watch. He made it half way toward the door which seemed like forever, before the most scariest noise he's ever heard came closer to him. The thuds of the boots against the hardwood were petrifying, but he needed to make it outside alive. Harold picked up the pace, but it was far too late. Soon after he would feel the same feeling his mother got from Mister K, although for him it would put a new meaning for ripping out a new asshole.Mister K was done for now so he thought he would just stop the screaming, it was giving him a headache. He tore the throats out of all the children, and he already took care of the mother so now there was only one thing left to do, barricade the house. He started with the main door just using boards he found in the garage and nails and a hammer that were on the work counter. His effort seemed good enough, but even after boarding all the windows and the attic he still felt very unsafe from a full on anti terrorist raid. Mister K made his way down to the basement to see if he could find something of aide, when there it was. There was a whole basement full of prototype ammunition, prototypes, and very heavy explosives all stacked quite neatly in Mr.Hensons basement. This is what he wasn't looking for, but needed. He got to work right away setting up machine guns and rocket launchers all over the house. His weapon of choice was the hand cannon that shot grenades, but he also carried around with him the biggest shotgun he could find, it was long, and it seemed it could rip anybody a big one if they ever decide to cross him.
"Mr. Mayor we need your immediate authorization to take on the deadly terrorist that was just sprung up in Assholeville, CA. He has taken a whole house in what appears to be a hostage situation, with all entrances boarded up. It is assumed that the family living in the residence is being held captive. This is a code red situation, and we need approval in order to get in."
"Approval Fucking Granted, Now HANDLE IT!"The following events are as follows: == BOOM== Bang== MASSIVE EXPLOSION== Everybody DYING== DEATH== You see, death is a part of society, and not all people have a grasp of what we call "living in the norm". There are evil forces at work, and I wouldn't doubt it if an event like this were to ever actually happen. Just know, if you enjoy living, you might as well come to the realization that you are eventually going to die. Thats all. That was my point. I think I'll make Mister Kill a super hero, tell me what you think.
edit Hemorrhoids Kill
You didn't know that hemorrhoids are the leading cause of the Killing Effect. Ever since those baby boomers started getting old the hemorrhoid problem has only gotten worse. Apparently the only way to stop this daily occurrence is to rub whale lard all over your ass while getting rick rolled off of omegle; the world wide penis sharing website. Although, not many elderly people know about this cure, and that is the way I want to keep it. If old people wouldn't die then how much do you think the funeral service business would suffer. A LOT! No more dead bodies, no more triangle cut sandwiches at their funeral services. Instead you're forced to go to the nearest gas station in order to buy a triangle sandwich, because you know you can't make them yourself, I mean who actually cuts their sandwiches in triangles anyway? To get back on topic though; You have to realize old people need to die for their to be a, 'purpose' let's say. The purpose to see dead people in coffins. That's when the most emotion comes out, is when you play with the dead peoples cheeks. You should give yourself credit for trying to look at death in a meaningful sense, their cheeks are so playful, tee-he.
edit Cell phone Sex kills
If you are traveling down a busy highway at 120 km per hour, or 60 miles per hour, while having phone sex on your cell phone you might jizz in your pants. Of course a little stimulation is required, so as you were driving you were using your legs to rub and stimulate your 5 and a half inch johnson (and no that is not my size). A little bit startled that you just wet yourself in mayonnaise you try to pull over, seeing as how you have to see your girlfriend in a minute, and your embarrassing state wouldn't be the way you would like to appear. The sharp turn you make startles the driver next to you and his hard right rams into your backside(oh, that going to ache in the morning). This horrible cataclysmic event turns into a 2,057 car pile up. In the process only one person dies on the other hand. Your girlfriend. That's right, she "accidentally" stabbed herself when she found out you were coming over. So now you have to live with the fact that you caused a 2,057 car pile up and that your girlfriend killed herself because of you. If phone sex doesn't kill anybody then I don't know what does. Oh yeah, you.