secret Microsoft Word template revealed!

How exactly do you kill yourself with a pastry, anyways?

Presumably with great difficulty and stickiness.

Were you using Word 2000 with that?

Well I've never seen it before. It's pretty funny. :lol: As a side note though I hate that paper clip. I always get the distinct impression that it is mocking me. The dog and other critters you can pick are cool though.

Myralis, you can check this:

"Hated Word Paper Clip:

I just can't bar you any more, i'm planning to..."


perhaps it'll give you some useful help

:lol: Pastry? :lol:

They're just too tasty to choke on, and they're too soft and fluffy to hang with... poisoning?

Maybe you could eat yourself to death, like Pizza the Hut, but not :P

I tried it and it doesn't work.

Same here.

Out of curiousity, how did you come across that? Were you really writing a suicide note or something?

[c] Death By Pastry[/c]


The grotesquely obese hobbit waddled into the common room of the Prancing Pony.

He had grown so fat that he could hardly walk. In fact, he no longer went home at all, much too far away these days. Somehow it was easier just to keep renting the room from old Barliman.

Bob & Nob took extra care to placate the guest, who paid extra for it. But the old fellow took a lot of feeding, and that was certain. Since he had moved in, he had grown absolutely immense. Now his great bag of a stomach hung off of him like a bell. He ponderously stepped to his table, nearest the hall and called for the menu.

Nob came a running and presented him with the Bill of Fare. "What will you have tonight, Mr. Creosote!"

"The lot. Just mix it in a bucket. And don't skimp on the pate!"

Later, much later that night, after all of the other guests had gone home or to bed, the hobbit was still numbly chewing some fruit, that fell from his bespattered jowls. His table was piled high with soiled plates and crocks and bowls.

Nob was disgusted. Just to see if the old glutton would do it, he offered him a tiny pastry.

"I'm stuffed. I couldn't eat another bite."

"But it is only a little petit cake. Just a mouthful."

"I said I'm stuffed."

"But it's wafer thin..."

"Alright."

Nob shoved the tiny pastry into the glutton's mouth. His great jowls quivered as he munched and swallowed the little confection. Hardly a mouthful.

His gigantic gut, already straining at the seams of his vast waistcoat, burst asunder, and it was a horrible mess that kept the tavern closed all the next day, and the day after. Nob had heard the rumbling and prudently dove just in time behind the bar.

Indeed, it was not until after they had buried Mr. Creosote in a hole big enough for a pony that the Prancing Poney reopened.

That was great.

:lol: Gilthalion!

oh my.... you have a little too much time on your hands, methinks
and someone posted that on another message board i post at, i'm guessing it's a doctored up screenshot from microsoft word hehe

ack, don't do that Gilthalion! But was that really suicide? What was that show where they had the guns baked into the bread?

you know, i don't know why i didn't realize it before, but Gil was just describing a scene from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, hobbit-style :lol: