The following is from http://www.cracked.com
Some words have been changed to make it more language-appropriate.
Why He Had to Go
Grigori Rasputin, the patron saint of dying hard, was a mystic that lived with Tsar Nicholas II in the early 20th century. The tsar and his wife Alexandra believed that Rasputin had the power to heal their hemophiliac son Alexei, so they kept Rasputin around the house as sort of a turn of the century Kato Kaelin. Rasputin’s influence was so heavy that anyone seeking an audience with the royal family had to consult with Rasputin first.
Rasputin, by all historical accounts, was overtly full of crud. He was a drunk and a lecher, and routinely accepted bribes from people seeking his guidance. Rasputin’s dubious lifestyle arguably added to the diminishing support of the Royal family, which ultimately led to revolution. And he was gutted by a prostitute in public in 1914, which we imagine must do wonders for your image.
How He Went Down
After Rasputin recovered from the by-all-accounts gnarly stab wound delivered by the prostitute, a group of Russian nobles decided to finish the job by poisoning him to death with tainted wine and cake. History cannot agree whether any of the poison ever entered Rasputin’s system (the poison in the cakes probably evaporated during baking), but this did little to diminish the conspirators’ surprise when Rasputin didn’t die.
So, Rasputin continued to hang out, eating cake, until one of the nobles finally grew impatient and shot Rasputin in the back. Content that he was dead, the murderers left the palace. One member of the party forgot his coat though, and when he returned to collect it, Rasputin sprang up from the floor like Skeet Ulrich in Scream and started strangling him.
The others arrived in time to shoot Rasputin three more times in the back, dropping him to the floor. But was he dead? Heck no. He was still struggling to stand, so the conspirators clubbed the everloving crud out of him.
They wrapped Rasputin’s body in a sheet and dumped him in the freezing Neva River. When they found Rasputin’s body later, riddled with poison, gunshot holes and club wounds, they determined he had died…of hypothermia.
It was evident that he had managed to partially claw his way out of his wrappings, and if he had done it a few minutes faster, he probably would have wound up on the assassins’ doorstep, dripping wet and ticked off.
We’re guessing the conspirators slept with the lights on every night for the rest of their lives.
I am under your bed.