Þetta ætti kannski að vera í brandarar en þetta er alveg mögulega sönn saga.

Þar sem örugglega helmingurinn af huga notendum er núna '97 eða eitthvað þurfið þið að þekkja þetta;

It's not really a secret, but we don't really tell that many people about it. A couple years ago, my family was on vacation in Nevada. We went to Las Vegas and went to the shows and whatnot. It's crazy how many people have vitamin deficiencies in Las Vegas.(I was in medical school at the time and I couldn't go anywhere without trying to diagnose people.) Anyway, after my dad lost $150 at the casino we decided to take a little detour to Reno, because my fucking sister, and aspiring fashion designer, wanted to visit some faggy Italian guy who was famous for popularizing this ‘revolutionary’ way to hand-dye clothes.

So we get to Reno and after asking the locals we find out he's doing a demonstration of his gay little technique at a nearby bookstore. After 30 minutes of disorienting directions we finally find the store, but as walked inside, we had no idea where Mr.Bigshot designer was until we walked over to the group of 10 or so people crowded around his twitching body.

I recognized hypoglycemia when I saw it, and I also recognized that this guy needed to be injected with insulin as soon as possible. I rushed to the body, and found his insulin kit in his breast pocket. Without hesitation I prepped the needle and drove it into his abdomen. After 15 minutes or so, he woke up, with all seven of his fans gathered around him, my sister included. He was so grateful he insisted on making one of his stupid shirts for my sister. I guess the TL;DR of this story is, I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him dye.