kill a man with your bare hands, step 6

Note: The following is an excerpt from Kill A Man With Your Bare Hands: An On-the-Go Guide To Achieving Nietzchian Supermanhood. Click here to find out more about this exciting self-help book!

Step 6: Solve the Riddle of the Mummy’s Curse

. . . So you’ve stolen the gilded scarab from the Museum of Dusty Artifacts (see Step 5). Congratulations—and beware. For little did you know, the scarab contains the essence of Imhosomethingorother, a certifiably pissed-off Egyptian mummy. He wants his soul back. You’ve got the scarab. Just another day in the life of the aspiring superman.

Step 6 plays out thusly:

Step 6(A): Relax. Having eluded the law and returned to your penthouse apartment, peel off your ski mask and pour yourself a stiff drink. If it seems like the gilded scarab is glowing, or making a kind of moaning noise . . . eh, ignore it. Probably just a by-product of the adrenalin rushing through your veins. It’s a beautiful night . . . maybe leave a window open?

Step 6(B): Awaken to the feel of an ominous presence in your apartment. A foul stench seeps into the bedroom. You hear a sound not unlike a grandpa shuffling to the bathroom for the fifth time that night. And a green glow outlines your bedroom door . . . that would be the scarab, calling out to its master.

Step 6(C): Jump out of bed and reach for something solid—do it now! There’s no time! No, no—not the gun, you fool! Something with heft. You’ve got to bludgeon your way past the mummy to grab the scarab. Remember: don’t let it get its hands around your throat.

He might start out looking like this . . . weak, huh? . . .

But let him get his hands on that scarab, and you’re dealing with . . .

Step 6(D): Burn that mothafucka down! Got a flamethrower handy? No? Then you’d best improvise some kind of flaming projectile. A roll of toilet paper, lit and heaved at the mummy, will serve. But if you really want to ace this Step, you’ll need to dash out into your back yard and spray the grass with lighter fluid. Then back away slowly . . . let Imhowhoever see you, shamble out and give chase . . . now flick a lit match at the soaked grass as he steps into it.

THIS POINT CANNOT BE OVEREMPHASIZED: you must nonchalantly flick the match—or smoke—preferably while saying something like, “Looks like you need a light.” Ultimate Nietzschian success in Step 6 is all in the flick.


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