WEEKEND OPEN BAR: Marshawn Lynch Wants To Kill You

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

What’s up fools! Drunk with Turkey Love? Gravy saturation? Hope your day of celebration was fantastic. Now begins the glorious protracted weekend. As you come back home from Black Friday sales, I welcome you to the column. Go wash the grandma blood off your hands – I understand you had to stomp her to get that LCD TV for $69.99. I get it. Draw the blinds, the cops are looking for you. Then sit down and contemplate the Thought Experiment I stole from a conversation at my own Thanksgiving dinner table.

You see, Marshawn Lynch wants to kill you.

The nephew of my Uncle-By-Marriage (I don’t know what the fuck that makes him to me?) posed the question to the table, and it is pretty fantastic. Imagine you’re jettisoned up onto the field of CenturyLink Field. Home of the Seattle Seahawks. We’re talking Hunger Games style. You have no weapons. You cannot escape the field. No stands, nothing. Imagine a force field cloaked in incineration capabilities if it helps you accept this. You’re in one End Zone. At the other end lurks Marshawn Lynch. He also has no weapons. Both of you are cloaked in shorts and a t-shirt with running shoes. This is where it gets gooey. Marshawn Lynch’s only goal is to kill you. As described by cousin-in-marriage, the dude is going to try and rip your head off. He is driven by insatiable blood lust. He will not slow down, he will not stop pursing you.

Simply put: how long can you survive before Marshawn Lynch kills you? And how would you try and survive?