9:30 & B, BRC – In a shocking, tragic, utterly foreseeable, yet ultimately unpreventable event, the entire Bacon Without Borders camp suffered massive cardiac arrest. REMSA emergency services personnel blamed the fatalities on the massive build-up of cholesterol and plaque in their overworked, but delighted hearts.
Though quick to arrive on the scene with defibrillators doctors were unable to revive a single soul. However, hours later they were still excitedly giving mouth-to-mouth to the porcine-loving campers, many of whom still had half-eaten, delicious bacon in their lifeless, greasy mouths.
“MMMMMmmmmmmmm, bacon!” stated Rangers on the scene. Bacon Without Borders provided hungry Burners delicious crispety bacon daily from Bacon O’Clock to O’Bacon Thirty in a distribution system commonly known as “one slice of crispy delicious fried cured pig for you, one slice of crispy delicious fried cured pig for me.”
The boyfriend of one of the campers–who identified himself as Michelangelo–was seen kneeling and shaking his fist at the sky. Witnesses believe he yelled, “Why would a kind and loving God do this? Why would He create something so amazingly wonderful that is so terribly bad for you? ”
Burners of all ages, races, creeds, colors and nutritional orientations were turning the camps “Sin baconem haud valens vita” statue into a makeshift memorial.
The BWB camp was widely known to drink bacon-infused bourbon, eat bacon-infused chocolate and fuck with bacon-infused lube. Unsurprisingly, this led to the rapid-development of porcine-plaque in the bloodstream and later to a campwide myocardial infarction.
When asked if the county would be performing autopsies to determine cause of death, the Washoe County Coroner nearly peed himself laughing. “I guarantee you it’s not lupus,” replied Dr. House.
A BMIR report stated that a Thunderdome procurement agent was busy bartering for the release of the delicious Bacon Without Borders campers’ bacon-filled corpses to the Death Guild commissary.