User blog comment:HumboldtLycanthrope/The 666 word pasta write off!/@comment-24101790-20160408002601

I have to take this nice and slow. I have to choose my words carefully. I don’t want to make this worse for me. Something’s happened this past week to the way we talk, I don’t know what’s causing it or how it’s happening, I only know that it’s killing people. Innocuous phrases, figures of speech, colloquialisms, and hyperboles are becoming literal, with disastrous results. Most people have stopped talking, but that approach is not helping anymore.

The first victim was Old Man Choam. He always was a talker, he loved to ramble on with old stories and local urban legends to anyone who would listen. It was when he started a conversation with a college student, who was too nice to walk away that it happened. Choam was rambling on about the time he found the Jersey Devil in his backyard. At the crescendo of his long-winded story, he said those fateful words. He said that he was besides himself with shock at finding the legendary cryptid in Spokane when it happened.

Choam screamed in agony as he was attacked by some invisible force and ripped in two. The student could only watch in horror as the bisected man clutched desperately at his severed lower half while he bled out as if he could re-attach himself. The people who witnessed Choam’s death called the police who promptly took the student into custody so he could be interrogated for the possible murder.

They changed the boy out of his bloodstained clothes and gave him a grey prison jumper. They interrogated him for five hours before the stress, lights, and questions broke him. In his frustration he said something about how the uncomfortable jumper was killing him. The jumper then constricted tight around him. He flailed around the room trying to tear the attacking clothes off, but they were too tight and coiled around him. The police officers could only watch as the jumper shrunk to the point of crushing his bones and organs until the student died. When they cut the clothes off of him to try and make sense of what had happened, they found that the seams of the prison jumper had actually cut into him, bruised him in places, and completely compressed his lungs into a pulpy mess.

It didn’t take long for people to make the connection between their words and the results. Many stopped talking, but a few spoke out on how to protect yourself from this phenomenon. They explained that it only affects the speaker. You can’t kill other people with your words except in certain situations. (One woman joked with a friend that she always assumed she would go out with a bang. The resulting explosion killed four, crippled one, and severely burned five people.) Your words will always be turned against you. One man boasted that he want to die ‘drowning in pussy’ and found himself swarmed and smothered by a horde of oddly clingy cats.

It’s gotten worse. It’s no longer restricted to spoken word, it’s spread onto written messages. I was texting with a friend, trying to understand what was happening when he, always a defeatist, said he was screwed six ways till Sunday due to his tendency to talk. From what I hear, he died of severe exhaustion, dehydration, and physical shock after removing his genitals with a pair of scissors and using them on himself. Soon it’ll spread to our thoughts and then we’re all dead.

I’m writing this because I am dying. Slower than the others, but dying none-the-less. I just wanted it to end in the nicest way possible. I said I wanted to die with a smile on my face. I thought that would be harmless, dying happy. It didn’t work. Please let me die. My face is paralyzed in a grin. I can’t eat, I can’t talk, I can’t even scream in agony at this perpetual smile burning my muscles. I just want this to end.