I’m going to start by saying it’s not going to be from slipping on the floor or something embarrassing like that. No. This will be a bathroom death for the ages. The kind that will be remembered in song long after this era is gone.
I’ll just be sitting there doing my thing while the ceiling begins to ooze high-fructose corn syrup. You think I’d be ready for what would happen next since I had an incident at work just last year that literally started the same way. But no, I still won’t see this coming. Even though I’m telling you about this now I still won’t see it coming. I guess my foresight isn’t 20/20 like hindsight. As the ooze takes an androgynous human form, it’ll invite me for another ride into the sky. I will refuse for I’m not entirely sure that it’s not trying to kill me.
Will I die in an epic battle? No, not quite. Life is rarely that exciting, and death even more rarely so.
Actually, you know what? No spoilers.