Just because you've got asthma doesn't mean you can be a bastard
I went to university ‘oop north’ and shared a house with four other durty students. One of them was a chronic asthmatic. Whether it was the steroids he took for his condition or not, he was also an insufferable drunk and could be a mean little bastard when he wanted, which was pretty much most of the time.

One night when he was being more bastardly than usual he had a sudden turn for the worse and needed to go to his room for a quick session on his nebuliser. After about 5 minutes I went in to check on him. It seemed that the nebuliser had not only dealt to his asthma attack but it had also placated him and he was now in a much less bastardly mood. Don't ask me how these things work, I didn't know then and I don't really know now. What I did know was that he was using his last remaining nebuliser capsule.

Anyway, we got to talking as his breathing steadied. We chatted about the grand old history of the four storey house that we students were slowly destroying and what an absolute shame that really was.

We talked about some of the original features, the damp coal cellar, the musty attic, and the fireplace in the ground floor room that was now his bedroom.

We imagined how it must've once been a grand old sitting room, bookshelves full of leather bound adventures, perhaps a well-worn comfortable sitting chair and side table complete with decanted wine next to a roaring coal fire - rather than the single bedded, pot noodled, rat holed, shit box with bars on the windows that it had become. This got a chuckle out of him and his breathing became more rapid as we talked over the possibilities.

We imagined what the person in the chair next to the fire might have looked like, perhaps a war widow, longing for her husband to return from distant poppy-laden lands.

An old lady to be sure, once full of life and vitality but now confined to that chair, staring deeply into the fireplace - the only remaining feature in the room - wondering when death would come to collect her and how disappointed he'd be when he realised that she was chained forever to this place, this house, this room, and that she would never leave, could never leave.

His breathing became sharper, he looked at me uneasy and then back at the fireplace.

I said to him: "Can you feel her very presence in this room right now?"

He managed to breathe a heavy but simple "yes".

I swiftly replied: "Good, you little bastard. Now try to breathe easy and give my regards to her when she visits during the night". I then popped off his lights and shut the door, jamming it from the outside.
(durtydriscoll, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 3:17, 8 replies)

So your story is...
You actively tried to kill your flatmate? If you had done that to me or any of my friends, I would have happily broken your legs.
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 3:47, closed)

hahaha....
...yes. Out of interest, how would you have gone about breaking my legs? Please give it some detail, conjure a story if you could, perhaps some light entertainment followed by some dark humour, and please end it with some dread or uncertainty. Thanks.
(durtydriscoll, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 5:01, closed)

Thus slowly and painfully killing your flatmate
as his breath became more and more ragged and his lungs simply couldn't get enough oxygen into them to sustain his brain and heart. He died with your name on his lips.
You know that wicked smile you sometimes visualise after you've had a bad nightmare?
That's him and the old lady.











Waiting for you.
EDIT: To break your legs I'd've clocked you on the back of the noggin to incapacitate you, then I'd cable-tie you wrists to your ankles and lay you on your back. The I'd chock a piece of wood between your knees and got to town on your knees with an old cricket bat - I just love the smack of flesh and bone on willow. I'd probably also bugger you with the handle but I might felate you because I'd been so rude.
EDIT: EDIT: Sorry for lack dread or uncertaintiez.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 13 Jan 2012, 6:13, closed)

Just one question:
Does your bat come with one of those rubber sleeve grips or the more traditional tape based grips?
(durtydriscoll, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 19:26, closed)

I once poisoned someone
but I did it because I didn't like them. That makes me amazing, right?
( sanityclause is waiting until, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 12:37, closed)

Depends on your choice of poison
IMO "cry tough" was ineffective Poison.
(durtydriscoll, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 19:23, closed)

I'm pretty sure you can turn the light back on from inside the room?

( user_names_suck, Sat 14 Jan 2012, 14:42, closed)

Agggghhhhhhh
Next time I tell a true story I will make sure that the light switch is on the outside ;)
(durtydriscoll, Tue 17 Jan 2012, 3:17, closed)