[ WP ] Oprah Winfrey is actually a serial killer and is outing herself live on her show .

“ Okay, everyone, I want you to reach underneath your seat to find your very own surprise! ” Oprah yelled into the sobbing crowd. 
 
 It was the very last episode of Oprah ’ s talk show, the end of an era. It was the end of a lifetime to some single women and bored house wives. The crowd was in turmoil the entire night. The overzealous laughs were met with as many sobs as the crowd mourned the loss of their savior, Oprah. 
 
 The audience reached underneath their seats readily with both hands, each searching for that expected prize that surely lay beneath their feet. 
 
 The live studio audience collectively gasped, their hive-mind thinking only exacerbated by the sudden rush of fear. 
 
 Each audience member reached underneath their seats and were handcuffed by some contraption. While the thought of being handcuffed with Oprah seemed like a fantasy fulfilled to some among the crowd, many already began to understand their predicament. 
 
 It seemed like the lights dimmed and came underneath Oprah ’ s face as she walked lazily across the stage, surveying her work. “ As you know! ” Oprah yelled excitedly, “ This is my final episode, and I have something very special to share with you, here, my captive audience! We ’ re going to play a game. ” She finished solemnly. 
 
 The audience began to frantically look to each other, this wasn ’ t how this was supposed to happen, they thought. Their God was supposed to bestow upon them her boon, her blessing, before passing on into the afterlife of OWN. 
 
 “ I ’ ve got a confession to make, my loyal followers. I ’ m not only the best daytime television Talk Show host to ever live, I! ” she paused, “ am going to be, THE most infamous serial killer in history! ” she finished triumphantly. She stood there, arms outstretched like she was basking in the glow of admiration from the world. 
 
 She was met with panicked screams and shrieks of terror. Once exalted sobs became that of horror. Oprah basked just the same. She knew from the beginning, 
 THIS was how she had to go out, on top of the ratings, well, next to that bitch 
 Judge Judy, and on top of a pile of corpses. 
 
 Not literally, of course, she thought, this is going to seal my spot in history forever! 
 
 “ If you try to escape, I ’ ll detonate your handcuffs. It ’ ll riddle anyone near you with shrapnel and destroy your hands. Actually… ” she pressed a button in the small remote she held. Two explosions happened near the right rear rows, screams and the sounds of dripping resonated out over the crowd. 
 
 Oprah breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. 
 
 “ So, who ’ s first? ” Oprah asked rhetorically, looking down at a card in her hand before demanding, “ 198 get to this stage, NOW! ” 
 
 Betty Hamilton looked down at her handcuffs, still stunned she fell into such an easy trap. But how could have I ever expected this, she thought. At the time, it seemed like a nonhazardous decision when she bought her tickets to Oprah ’ s final episode. She was hoping to earn back the money she got from gifts in the show. 
 
 198 was etched into her handcuffs above the keyhole. She looked back to Oprah, someone she once thought of as an idol, literally willing to sacrifice her spot in heaven for, was going to be her butcher. 
 
 Betty stood up, the chair squeaked as it was relieved from her mass. She shook her hair back, slightly greasy brunette split ends glistened in the spotlight now targeting her. 
 
 I wonder how she got the Light Guy to help her with this, she thought. 
 
 She made her way to the stage tirelessly marching down the flight of steps, her footsteps thundering in the near silent room. 
 
 Well, this is it, she said to herself. I got killed by Oprah. I ’ m sure Satan will have a laugh at that. 
 
 Oprah looked on Betty expectantly as she trudged to the middle of the stage, winded. 
 
 “ Now, what is your name, Sweety? ” Oprah asked, her gleaming white smile now seemed noticeably sinister to Betty, like a wolf baring its fangs. 
 
 “ Betty… ” she said shakily into the microphone, her own green eyes were reflected in the unerring gaze of Oprah. 
 
 “ Now, Betty, I ’ m going to put you in, the FRONT SEAT OF A BRAND NEW FERRARI! ” 
 
 A yellow Ferrari emerged from a trapdoor in the ground, spinning as it came onto the stage. On the opposite side of the stage a brick wall came out of the ground, 
 standing seven feet high. 
 
 “ Now, Betty, this, BRAND NEW, 2012 Ferrari can go from zero to SIXTY, I said, 
 SIXTY! Miles per hour in under three seconds, we ’ re going to test that out, right here in our own sound proof studio. ” 
 
 Oprah ushered the bound Betty into the car, opening the door for her as she entered. Betty looked to her left and saw that the seatbelt had been taken out of the car. The steering wheel and foot pedals as well, it looked like this car was going to be controlled remotely, somehow. She wasn ’ t very good with electronics. 
 
 “ Well, Betty, ARE you ready?! ” Oprah said only how Oprah could. 
 
 Betty ’ s engine roared in response. Betty looked down again into the seat of the car, she noticed that the emergency brake was still intact. She prayed this wasn ’ t an intentional oversight as she looked back at Oprah. The engine revved again, she 
 saw it was turning over three-thousand RPM on the display. 
 
 Wow, this car is really futuristic, she thought, already having digital odometers. 
 She shook her head, then looked straight ahead at the freshly painted white wall ahead of her. 
 
 Hopefully I won ’ t be the one to paint it, she thought. There ’ s no way I ’ m going to hit sixty and die, I ’ m supposed to suffer. 
 
 Okay, folks, are you getting this cameraman? You know you ’ re wearing handcuffs too. Actually, ” she paused, pressing another button. A new explosion was heard followed by manly screaming. 
 
 “ Now! 3-2-1. GO! ” Oprah waved. 
 
 Betty looked back down to the emergency brake. 
 

