Well, I guess I could make a tragic mistake, costing the company millions and accordingly be fired, be unable to find a new job, injure myself during job retraining, become dependent on painkillers and spend all my savings on buying drugs, get kicked out of my home, steal food from rubbish bins, living outdoors with no hygiene facilities, contracting painful sores followed by HIV, TB and hepatitis infections, my mother driving her car into a lake insane with sorrow, I turning up at the funeral babbling incoherently, combining loss of bowel control with vomiting all over antique paintings in the church, requiring not just cleaning but a complete renovation, during which a number of workers are seriously injured, of which two fatally, when a scaffolding collapses, this also causing further damage to the church, while I am in and out of hospitals, carrying extremely resistant strains of several pathogens and infecting staff members, other patients and their visitors. When I finally die, my coffin drops on the feet of two of the carriers, requiring amputation of several toes and disinfection of the crematorium.
Cheerful people simply have no imagination.
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