by gdeangel on Sun Apr 13, 2008 9:27 pm
Hearing of your miraculous head re-generating feats, you are thronged by zealots and hangers-on who ceaseless prod you for the meaning of life, to cure to their ailments, pleading for spiritual salvation, and begging you to tell them the name of the next American Idol contestant to be kicked off. Try as you might to manage the situation, you finally become overcome of being constantly bombarded by questions, and decide to end it all by removing your head (again). Whereupon, your would be followers, thinking that you were a false prophet, burn your corpse and scatted the ashes to the four winds.
... but I'm still not going near that freakin' hill -- even though I bid at auction for it against Lack (my plan had been to lease it out as an absentee owner) -- so the hill goes to...