by Kurt Knox
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You fall backwards off your stool and break your neck in eighteen separate places. GAy RovER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You die suddenly and painfully of acute liver cirrhosis. DaMe OVerT.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You perish from sadness. LAmE OvUM.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You ignore the ‘Beware of the Dog’ sign, scrabble up the chain link fence and boost yourself across the other side. You’re tearing the tarmac for freedom when the heavens open. Literally. A big bearded head appears in the sky, parting the clouds like a baby busting outta his momma’s butt. It’s The Lord Almighty. The Big man himself. The Invisible Sky Daddy. You must have read that sign wrong — it didn’t say ‘Beware of the Dog,’ it said ‘Beware of the God’! The bearded dude aims a finger at you and smites you with his celestial wrath. Bitch, you just Godslapped. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You flip a coin. Unfortunately it ricochets off a ceiling fan, comes back down at you and embeds itself in your brain. You go into a spasm, vomit, recite the entire pilot episode of 2 Broke Girls, then die. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You flip a coin. Unfortunately it ricochets off a ceiling fan, comes back down at you and embeds itself in your brain. You spasm, vomit, seriously consider signing up to a Twitter for Business seminar, then die. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Of course being gay isn’t a choice, and yet somehow, in this singular instance, you have succeeded in choosing to be gay. This contradiction causes a universal paradox, which brings about the ultimate fate of all we know. Matter, energy, spacetime and the unknowable vacuum of everything in between are voided. All that has ever existed or will ever come to exist ceases to be. The have undone the universe. Good one. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Ain’t that just like you – a quitter through and through. You’ll never amount to anything, that’s what your momma always said, and here’s the proof. No wonder she left you. No wonder she hated you. I hate you. I really hate you. In fact, I just shanked you in the neck and now you’re dead. Do you know how much of a loser you need to be for the narrator to become manifest, break the fourth wall and murder his own protagonist? A big fucking loser, that’s how much. Idiot. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You set your iPhone to speaker mode and light up the laundrette with a tinny rendition of ‘I Heard it Through the Grapevine.’ One item at a time you begin to take off your clothes, shedding your outsides like a sexy leper. The honey’s liking what she sees. Won’t be long now before the two of you are slamming ham. Just one more item to go. You’re about to slip out of your tighty-whities when you accidentally slip in a pool of suds from a leaky washer. You strike your head on the corner of the machine and down you go. The blunt force trauma is so fierce that it causes one of your eyeballs to dislodge from your skull, and the resulting neurological complications consign you to a wheelchair for what remains of your short unsexy life. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Pow! You just got kinda laid! The broke-ass dancer smiles… then throws up a straight-armed salute.
‘Sieg Heil!’ she shouts.
Holy shit, dude, you done stuck it in a Nazi! GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Go hard or go home! You load up a barbell with all the weights you can find and prepare to show that gym honey what you lift. This is what’s known as a bad idea. Much as you like to talk a big game, the only thing you’ve ever truly exercised is your right to sit on your ass all day eating Doritos. By some miracle you manage to get the barbell in the air, but, unable to support the weight, it collapses, coming down on the back of your neck, driving clean through and separating your skull from your spinal column. Your head rolls across the floor a couple of times before settling between the legs of the unimpressed hoochie. The last thing you see before you go brain dead is her perfect onion butt that you will never get to tap. Beefcake? More like griefcake. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You give it everything you have, your eyes bulging, the veins on your temples bunching into thick knots.
‘Gurl, do you like… I mean… are you a… that is to say… urgh…’
A thunderclap goes off under your dome and white hot pain stabs your brain meat. Then, just when it looks like you’re in real trouble… you are. The colossal effort of your final pick-up has brought about a lethal aneurism. You die on the ground in a puddle of your own drool. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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That’s the spirit. True happiness can only come from within, not from the validation of others. It’s time you started loving yourself. Straighten up and fly right, that’s the way.
You give up the seduction game and concentrate on becoming a productive member of society. You sacrifice a life of cruising nightclubs and banging honeys for a steady paycheck and a 401k. In time, you find a job as a Client Services Coordinator for a reputable insurance firm. One day your manager, Terry, tells you that the company is restructuring. Nothing to worry about, he says, it’s just a new system for organizing staff. From now on, Managers will be known as Tool Sheds, and Assistant Managers as Tool Boxes. You ask what your new title will be. Terry answers by handing you your new business card. It says you’re a Tool. Terry’s Tool. From now until the day you die. THE END.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Dude, you just got alpha dogged by a punk ass biblical fisherman! Saint Peter sees you show your belly and makes the call.
‘You are not worthy of paradise,’ he says, ‘biatch.’
Then down comes the lever and you’re on your way to a lake of fire. Them apostles ain’t nuttin’ to fuck with. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You slap a carton of extra large Trojans on the conveyor belt and fix the checkout girl in the eyes. Somehow you manage to get your hand lodged in the belt’s feed though, and find yourself dragged into the machinery inch by agonizing inch. Your fingers are the first to go, then your arm, then your torso, and finally your head. Your bones are pulverized and your flesh stripped from your body like the peel off an orange. You suffer as much pain as it’s possible for a human being to suffer. Your dying screams will echo in the mind of that poor checkout girl for the rest of her life. Not ideal. GAME OVER.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You ask the checkout girl out on a date. She agrees. The pair of you enjoy a lovely dinner. Things get serious, and within two years you are married. You move in together, get a dog, have a kid, the whole package. Like a creeping fog, domesticity closes in on you. One Friday night you’re sat on a self-assembly IKEA couch next to your wife of fifteen years when the phone rings. It’s your bro, Darnell! Man, you two ain’t rapped for I don’t know how long!
‘Wassup playa?’ he asks. ‘You hittin’ the club tonight? It’s gonna be off the hook.’
You look to your wife but she shakes her head.
‘I don’t know, man,’ you tell Darnell, ‘we got a casserole in the oven and our sitter’s out of town, so…’
But Darnell’s already hung up out of disgust. And he was right to. You’re out of the game playa! Death by matrimony. THE END.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
