Gestating an alien in your abdomen that will soon burst out and tap dance as your entrails spill across the floor and that is pretty darned graphic, sorry about that.
Jocular toxic positivity if you are a goth (like me) trying to survive with your black soul destroyed by shiny happy people on LinkedIn talking about how awesome they are and maybe I am just having some weird LinkedIn meltdown, probably.
Lewdly leaning off the side of a balcony in your birthday suit when you are on the top of a Parisian apartment, showing off your goods to all and sundry and then suddenly falling eight stories into a baguette cart and snuffing it, your last words being: "Tant pis. J'adore le pain."
Owning the baguette cart, your livelihood effectively ruined by this tragic display of naked flesh plopping into your product. As such, you stab yourself to death out of despair and existential dread, with a very, very pointy and crispy piece of bread.
Politely wringing your hands as the local butter merchant, pondering who will buy butter now, shaking your head as you turn and sliding in a glob of butter into a nearby Eiffel Tour du Pain
Quitting the Paris tour guide business eternally after witnessing the collapse of the street market economy as a result of a falling nudist. You beat your breast dramatically and end up pushed into the middle of the Champs Elysees, effectively mown down by a mixture of vespas and fancy pants electric cars. RIP.
Riding your bike right off the railing of a bridge and into the Seine River after witnessing the aforementioned kerfuffle at the baguette cart, distracted by thoughts of having to change your breakfast plans to pain au chocolat
Traveling back in time to warn the nudist so that you don't have to have your bread ruined by kersplat. Unfortunately, your time machine isn't very accurate, so you land right in the middle of the Reign of Terror and, since you look too fancy, you get guillotined. Vive la Revolotion!
Upon completing untimely travels to the Reign of Terror, you land in the bathtub where Marat died, and upon making contact with his lifeless, pustulated form, you panic and flail and drown, meeting your demise in the very same bathtub…but at least you kept your head!
Vulgarity is king during this time, so that after you hear of the drowning time traveler in the same bathtub as Marat, you go to the cell of the Marquis de Sade and ask him to pen a sexy but kind of nausea inducing story. However, you didn't watch the movie "Quills" and didn't know that you would be implicated in a flogging to death by monks who can can like a century before it is popular, lifting up their habits and gesticulating with their oddly shaven legs. What kind of monastery is this?
Wondering whether the whispers about the Marquis de Sade are true, you pay him a visit and experience his “sadism” firsthand, decades before term inspired by him is even coined. Unfortunately for you, safe words don’t exist yet, and you’ve passed out from the pain and are therefore unable to convince him to stop anyway. He gets a little carried away and you end up with internal organ damage, which would be awful if you weren’t already bleeding out.