Choose your death!

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I want to go out in a blaze of glory, saving people so that my death has meaning. I also want the circumstances of my death give definitive proof of reicarnation.

I want to have nuclear powered death lasers fired into my brain by mutated super intelligent cats as my hands and feet are held in place by magnetic fields, and thousands of the super cat civilians watch my execution on their holographic entertainment systems.

The new master race will rise.

Huh. I was expecting 100 posts of Death by Snu Snu. I think we've only had one.

tickled to death by kittens in the middle of a grandoise circus finale with fireworks and iron maiden... and bacon.

Honestly though: Peaceful, somewhere warm, sunny and near the sea and assuming my heart can still pump the old fella up, may as well take the snu snu if any's on offer. I'll either have to move countries or set an appointment with death for a day during the two weeks of good summer we get every year.

Edit: Did not read the OP. Just assumed you were supposed to choose a realistic potential death. I get to choose my death? Of course it's going to be playing an awesome 4 hour concert with Iron Maiden and Andy Mckee where I blow everyone away with my magically granted guitar super talent before going back stage to sleep with a laundry list of exceptionally attractive actresses, musicians and models full of lust and excitement for me. Because screw being original! I want excessive, ego-massaging and totally unrealistic, dammit!

I would like to go out in a blaze of glory, tits and fire!

So....I'll die in a burning down strip joint....

Sorry, "Gentleman's Club".

If I die it somehow leads to world peace (or space peace, depends on if there are aliens)
The rest is up to god.

Impossible? Puny God!

I believe this will be the third time I've posted this, but I still haven't changed my opinion that this is a pretty bad ass way to go, and when I do die, if it were as awesome and over the top as this I would die a very happy man.

Hero in a half shell:
I already posted this, but it was ages ago, and I put that much effort into it I thought I'd post it again.

It is a very early, warm, and bright summer Morn in the City of London, England. The silence is almost absolute, apart from a soft melody emitting from the Royal Festival Hall, as the London Philharmonic orchestra are practicing Bach's Air on a G-string for a concert, while the rest of the city sleeps. Suddenly the heavens are rent asunder as two Russian Migs descend from the stratosphere, disturbing the otherwise tranquil scene, they scream up the River Thames, carrying their deadly nuclear payloads to the intended target: The Houses of Parliament. However something is amiss, as flames and fire erupt from one of the Migs, its wing is sheared off and it plummmets abruptly and fatally into the murky Thames.
Screeching out of a side street appears the cause of the Migs sudden demise. An open-topped double decker London Tourbus, emblazened with Union Jacks and filled with semtex. At the wheels of this whimsical war machine is none other than Sir Sean Connery, in his suavest suit looking impecable. I am also wearing a suave suit, standing strapped to the top of bus, M-32 grenade launchers akimbo, and it was a grenade I shot that struck the first nefarious jet.
Connery contacts me on the walkie talkie strapped to my bandolier of spare grenades, and tells me in his distinct scottish accent that the one remaining Mig, which had already dissapeared around the next riverbend, is flying too fast for us to catch it by tracking alongside the Thames, but he knows a shortcut. We cut across many blank sidestreets and alleyways, whose very existence right now hang in the balance, to try and catch up with the Mig, who in following the path of the river, must take a far longer route.
Connery screams "Get ready! we will only have one shot at this" as he turns the final corner into a dark, narrow dead end alley that terminates at the Thames, just opposite the Houses of Parliament.
However there was a problem. Since Connery had last been down this alley a huge billboard had been placed at the end of the road, on the banks of the Thames, completely obscuring our view of the River, and far bank. Realising that we would never see the Mig when it passed, never mind get a shot at it, and that all was lost, Connery's voice, in a saddened exhausted tone, crackled on the walkie talkie, "Well, its been a pleasure working with you, it really has, but it looks like this is the end of the road."
I am standing sideways on the bus, my head bowed in defeat, when his words give me an idea. I lift and turn my head sideways while raising one of the guns at the billboard and say, "Where were going, we don't need roads." Two grenades erupt from the gun in quick succession, and find their mark at the base of the billboard, shattering the wooden supports so the billboard falls towards us, its top laying on the dusty road, while the bottom of the billboard is sitting on the wall of the Thames River, creating a ramp. Connery instantly knows what to do, he slams the accelerator, tears up the alleyway at a speed that seemed impossible in such a large vehicle, we hit the ramp perfectly and rocket out into the Thames, just as the Mig rounds the corner. The pilot, seeing the bus appear in his path, curses in Russian and begins to pull up. As he is about to pass over the bus I release the harness holding me down to the bus and grab a medieval greataxe embedded in the chair beside me. A running jump of the side of the double decker is all it takes to bridge the gap between me and the fighter jet. With all my weight behjind it the greataxe smashes through the cockpit glass, cleaving the pilot in twain and he jolts forward, sending the Mig into the bus. The semtex explodes from the collision in a collossal fireball, and the twisted metal husk falls into the Thames, sinking to the bottom of its murky depths. Except for a side panel of the bus which depicts the union jack, burnt around the edges and as it sinks below the waves a small orphan child standing on Westminster bridge, the sole witness of the whole affair, gives a salute and says "God save the queen".

An aneurysm triggered after penning a piece of literature that will bring everlasting world peace.

Death by sex with Emma Watson, Mila kunis and Emma Stone would be nice.

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