Ich starb mehrfach heute während ich das Todesroulette auf Vole.wtf zockte mit echten Sterblichkeitsberichten aus den offiziellen medizinischen Aufzeichnungen aus dem London des 17. Jahrhunderts. Hier einige meiner grausamsten Todesarten mit (englischsprachigen) Kommentaren der überlebenden Iteration meiner unsterblichen Seele aus dem 21. Jahrhundert:
„In the week of September 12th, 1665 you died from Grief.“ ––– I always wondered what the meaning of the old english phrase „dying from grief“ actually means, I mean you don’t usually die from the loss of a loved one, but I haven’t looked this up.
„In the week of May 23rd, 1665 you [were] Killed with a fall off a Horse at St. Martin in the fields.“ ––– Never been in the field at St. Martins. That is a blatant lie, sire!
„In the week of January 3rd, 1665 you died from Bloody flux (bloody stools).“ ––– yea, that sounds René-ish.
„In the week of September 12th, 1665 you died from Kingsevil (scrofula).“ ––– my lymph nodes are especially well and tuberculosis is not an issue in our day and age. So, no. I reject this method.
„In the week of December 12th, 1665 you died from Stopping of the stomach.“ ––– yea look, we gotta talk about that one. I mean, even if you people are 350 years old you really should know that stomachs don’t simply stop. Or do you mean the guts? There is bowel obstruction, thats for sure, my mom had this once and I can tell you, that was not pretty but that doesn’t mean that „a stomach stops“ or something, it just means that you eat crap and shit not often enough, but I’m really no expert on that, all I know is that stomachs don’t stop because that would be horrible, people couldn’t eat pizza when their stomachs would stop, so fuck that. Stomachs don’t stop.
„In the week of April 25th, 1665 you died from Tissick (coughing & wheezing).“ ––– yea. That and the bloody stool, simultaniously. And bleeding from the eyes. I want my death to be a really pleasant look for the local Death Metal Scene. Not really. God, if you’re reading this, you do know that this is just some lighthearted jokey fun. I want to die in my sleep, exactly 127 years old. I really do. But an eyebleeding corpse dying from coughing & wheezing while he shat himself with blood really does have some appeal in a very sick way.
„In the week of July 11th, 1665 you died from Consumption.“ ––– I get a strong anticapitalist vibe from the 17th century here. Sure, fine, I died from consumption.
„In the week of July 11th, 1665 you died from Apoplexie (stroke, heart attack or aneurysm).“ ––– that indeed sounds accurate and most likely. See you there!