You are Bill, a guy who has entered a drinking contest to see who can drink the most sodas in an hour. You are determined to win, so you managed to drink an entire twelve pack of sodas in an hour. As the judges are counting the results, a hundred forty-four ounces of urine spray out of your body and onto the crowd. The next day, you wake up with no memory of what happened. The only thing that is certain is that you feel like shit. > You hear a commotion outside of your house. You peek through the window and see all the people you peed on yesterday. As soon as you woke up, you heard a bunch of noise outside. You look out the window and see a group of men running towards your door. They seem to be yelling something about "the cops" You open the door to hear what they have to say. They begin to yell at you, and it seems that they are upset about something. "You fucking pissed on us!" one of the guys says, "and we want you to be a better person. > You say "How can I make it up to you? " "You should join the marathon with me!" It's two days after you pissed on a crowd of people while you were in a drunken stupor. You join the marathon and drink a 12 pack of Diet Cherry Shasta to prepare for the race. You near the end of the race and piss yourself. You continue to run in your piss-soaked clothes until you collapse from dehydration. > You are the only person to not finish the marathon. The news makes the front page "Man Dies After Pissing Himself During the Marathon" You died doing what you loved. The city holds a ceremony on your behalf. The mayor's begins his speech by saying "He may not have been a hero in life, but he sure as hell is a hero in death." the mayor says "we commemorate his death by naming the road he collapsed on the Yellow Brick Road. Please line up to piss on the coffin to pay your respects." The city pisses on your grave for the next two weeks straight. All the piss rehydrates your body. You come back to life. The spirit of the city possesses your soul and torments you for the rest of your life. you possess a particularly lithe building and try to find an exorcist. The exorcist fucks you up and sells your soul to Google Wallet. You appear at Google server farm in a soul chamber. You pound on the glass and demand some answers. A software engineer by the name of Dweeb Wellings tells you that your soul power is helping to fuel the cloud. "Fuck you!" You scream at him. The engineer laughs and tells you that if you don't cooperate he's going to cut your soul into tiny pieces of spam and use them as captcha codes. > You get revenge by haunting all of the ads that Google runs. Your soul haunts the ads for a week straight. People are so distracted by your ghost on all of their devices that they stop using the internet entirely. The engineer who you haunts commits suicide and Google shuts down altogether. you start your own search engine company named Boogle. It quickly dominates the market because you know where all the bodies are buried. your business venture makes you a billionaire but all of your money is worthless because people stopped using the internet. > You convert your money to ghostcoin. You become the richest person on the planet. People begin to call you the ghost with the most. You and your newfound money are crushed to death by a giant novelty check worth over 90 octillion dollars. You buy a ghost mansion. You list the top ten rooms in your mansion: 1)The Poker Room 2.The TV Room 3)The Library 4)The Trophy Room 5)The Sex Room 6)The Bathroom 7)The Alcoholic Hole 8)The Weed Spot 9)The Release Room 10)The Death Chamber You build an underground maze to hold your captive sex slaves. The moral of the story: ghosts are fucking bad bitches and ghosts with a lot of money are fucking rich bad bitches.