1. The deceased buys a wolf dog from a "reservation sanctuary" "online" and it mauls her to death because its wolf content is too high and social adaptability too low.
2. The deceased freezes to death lost in the wild tundra because she doesn’t have a wolf dog with high enough wolf content to guide her home safely.
The Wolf Dog, i.e. The most adorably badass path to inevitable death.
3. The deceased falls through a sidewalk grate even though it was covered because she told you they just aren't strong enough to withstand God's natural elements and constant traffic for that long.
4. The deceased has to go too far out of her way to avoid walking across a sidewalk grate and is hit by oncoming traffic.
5. The deceased finally works up the courage to walk across a sidewalk grate, and although it doesn’t break, a distracted driver jumps the curb and flattens her. (In lieu of flowers, please send letters to Congress urging support for a national crackdown on distracted driving. Use the deceased’s story/likeness as necessary. Billboards and public occupations are encouraged; 5Ks/any form of forced exercise are not.)
6. Anything McRib or weird, warm McRib pickle-related.
The McRib, i.e. What?
7. Any situation in which the deceased actually survives, but results in her never being able to dance again. Regardless of survival, it still warrants some sort of elaborate grief-stricken ceremony drenched in gloom, loss, and loud public expressions of disbelief and denial for what could have been.
8. It turns out the club is actually way more capable of handling her than anticipated.
9. Gangrene. (Read also as: Recklessly wearing rain boots without breaking them in properly, resulting in massive blisters, which, when coupled with the deceased’s chronic iron-deficiency anemia, becomes unmanageable and never heals.)
10. Willow Smith-induced neck injury.*
11. Allergic reaction to a henna tattoo, especially if it was hastily procured on/under a boardwalk because a pimply kid in paintball gear was handing out coupons.
12. If it turns out that Guinness does not, in fact, have any medicinal properties, gout prevention or otherwise. (This restriction also applies to anyone on the deceased’s Dad’s side of the family. One cannot simply make that kind of bullshit up, theme entire holiday gatherings after it, ignore the consequences, and expect to reap the benefits of performing in a public forum.)
14. The deceased is eaten by a dumpster cat in the night, the chances of which have increased at least 100% since becoming the adoptive single mother of a dumpster cat.
The Dumpster Cat, i.e. The least adorable and least badass path to inevitable death.
15. The zipper on the deceased’s winter coat grazes her jugular on its way to slicing her face completely in half. (Please see supplemental documents on closed casket guidelines.)
16. But seriously, wolf dogs. Blame Balto/Kevin Bacon/Central Park statuaries/Universal Pictures/NBC Universal Pictures. Sue Spielberg and/or Bacon and/or the Central Park Conservancy on the deceased’s behalf and buy a water park for kids with cancer to commemorate her charitable heart and hatred of water parks. (When that fails, set up a Kickstarter.)
GUYS, KEVIN BACON WAS THE VOICE OF BALTO!!!
*Actually, the level-headed best friend, henceforth known only as the “LHBF,” may speak on this occasion as long as said trauma is referred to only as “a sudden, tragic collapse in cervical vertebrae integrity of unknown origin, but probably the result of doing something selflessly heroic and fashionable.”**
**Also, depending on how all of that was read it could also mean a neck injury caused by Willow Smith herself, such as a stabbing or swift punch. Both situations are considered equal in terms of the legal confines of these guidelines, severity of death, and overall likeliness of occurrence.
***This restriction only applies if, when the police, Armed Forces, and international media are searching for the deceased’s body, the LHBF gives them that picture of the deceased waiting in line for the safari ride at Disney’s Animal Kingdom, bent over the turnstile with her tongue hanging out while getting half of her head braided.