Lunch in 2020

by DragonSkulls

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.

Martin Carver was rushing in and out of traffic, in his blue Porsche, to get
back to work after lunch. His boss told him if he was late one more time
he was canned. Going about sixty in a thirty is when Martin plowed into a
pedestrian in a crosswalk. The guy bounced off his car and flew twenty five
feet in the air. If the impact didn't kill him, the power lines he flew into surely
did. The instant he zapped into a fireball of sparks, the electrical transponder
nearest him blew and blasted clear off the pole. The transponder shot like a
rocket, straight into a passing fuel tanker truck. The driver was instantly
incinerated.

Bill Peterson was window shopping at the sporting goods store when the
force of the tanker explosion blew him clean through the giant, plate glass
window, instantly ending his life as he crashed into the archery department
at two hundred miles an hour. There was a loaded crossbow in a glass display
case that shattered on impact. It fell and when it bounced on Bill's head, it fired.
The arrow shot across the street where an onlooking hoodlum, walking his
pit-bull, stood directly in its path. The arrow sunk at least five inches into
his skull.

Officer David Boone was running toward the wreckage when he saw Fido
come free from his dead owner's hand as he flopped to the ground. The
blood thirsty hound charged toward him. Officer Boone drew his revolver
but not quick enough. The pit-bull was already lunging at his groin by then.
He fired once at the dog but missed. That's when Dave sadly became Alpo. The
round he fired from the ground hit a flying Amazon delivery drone. With a
broken blade on one of the arms, it hurled skyward.

The Channel 13 News traffic helicopter pilot didn't have time to react when
the chopper collided with the six foot drone. It crashed into the cockpit,
severing his left jugular along with his left arm. At the time, he was left
handed, so the helicopter was most likely going down. The camera man saw
what was coming. They were over the bay. He decided to take his chances by
leaping free of the doomed chopper.

Benjamin White was fishing on his eight foot bass boat when the camera
man, from the sky, came crashing through it. It literally tore his boat in half.
Old Benjamin didn't believe in life jackets nor thought it was all that important
to learn to swim. He realized he was clearly wrong when he was flung into the
Hillsborough river. While choking on his last breath before he sank, a man on
the river's edge saw Ben go in and under. He dove into the river to save the old
man's life. He swam as fast as he could but about four feet from where he saw
Benjamin sink, a twelve foot gator nearly swallowed him whole.

In the park, on the ground, Edward James and his wife were taking a leisure stroll
when they witnessed the helicopter spinning out of control, plummeting straight
for them. Being eighty three, Ed saw many things in his life. A helicopter dropping
out of the sky right on him wasn't one of those things. He grabbed his chest and let
out half a scream before his heart brutally stopped. As he collapsed, one of the
helicopter's rotors whizzed just over him and chopped his wife's head clean off.
As the helicopter crashed, one of the blades struck a heavy, blue mail box and flung
it toward the road.

The motorcyclist died instantly as the square, metal box blasted him off his bike,
into a parked ice cream truck. Children ran with their stolen popsicles. His motorcycle
didn't stop though. It hit the front of a parked Ferrari and went airborne. It flew into
a second story office complex, viciously smashing a desk secretary into a copy machine.
The copier ricocheted off a building pillar and then into her supervisor and then crashed
out the side window. The momentum blasted him toward the window as well. Luckily,
he caught the ledge. It saved his life as he dangled on the outside of the building.

This happened to be the day they were throwing the Founders Day Parade. The copier
fell and smashed Cindy, one of the tether holders of the giant Homer Simpson balloon.
From the shock, six other people holding the ropes simply let go. The remaining eight
couldn't hold it. Homer Simpson soared into the air. As the ropes waved in the wind,
one blew and looped around the lucky supervisor's neck, yanking him off the side
of the building. Being hurled to the ground would have been a quicker fate.

Making a return flight in his two-seater airplane, from Atlanta, Jeff Mills was a bit
surprised when he came out of the clouds and saw Homer Simpson looking right at
him. The plane plunged straight into Homer's nose. The jerk of the balloon freed the
dead, hanging supervisor and he fell to earth.

The street preacher's sign read, "The End Is Near!" He was right. Larry Sanders fell on
him from a mile and a half up. At the same time, a truck carrying hazardous materials
was passing by. The doomsday sign flew out of his hands with such force that the handle
pierced a fifty five gallon barrel drum. The hazardous waste spewed out as the truck
turned the corner. It splashed all over the blind street musician, Brad Dietrich. His
saxophone fell to the pavement as he melted into the sidewalk.

After Jeff Mills flew into Homer Simpson's face, he lost control of his airplane. He and
Homer rapidly lost altitude. Along the way, with none knowing, they creamed into a
hang glider's wings. Being prepared for such a ridiculous catastrophe, the hang glider
unhooked and then pulled his parachute. He softly floated to the ocean's surface with
little worries. A short swim and he'd be back in the air in no time. Four feet from
reaching the water's waves, a massive, great white shark leapt from the ocean depths
and chomped off more than half of his body.

Not knowing what fate awaited, the pilot prayed for any sign of hope. That's when he
crashed into the containment structure of the nuclear power plant. The airplane fuel
mixed with Homer helium nearly started WWIII.

Quality control manager, Wendy Flaggler, from her observation window, was the first
of forty some thousand to be consumed in the gigantic nuclear mushroom cloud of 2020.

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Twenty ways to die contest entry

In a thread of this contest it says we are only allowed to enter the first chapter. That's why I killed the required number of people in the first chapter. In the next four chapters I'll kill off 80 more.

Thanks for reading.

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Lunch in 2020

by DragonSkulls

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