At first, I resented being dead; made me angry, you know? Hey, I've got too much to do to be dead; I was having a good life, things were finally happening for me, not to me. But, then I got this option; not the kind you're thinking of, like an actor's contract. Not even the menu on a computer kind; more like the ones you have before you're born, when you're being influenced by what your mother eats and drinks ... but I'm confusing you. I can see that; I can see a lot in this state. All possible futures from any single event. So let me tell you this some other way.

First off, I'm not going to tell you who I am; or who I was, anyway. You'll either figure it out or you won't. Not going to tell you how I manage to write this all down, except one friend of mine leaves her computer on all the time, so I have plenty of time to do things and she'll never figure it out. I will tell you my option, though, which I accepted. Even though, like I said, it wasn't a choice thing, exactly. I took over being guardian angel to my good friend Rollie Tyler.

Now, if you know anything about the guy, you've probably said his guardian angel was working overtime zillions of times in Rollie's life, and you'd be right. Tries the patience of a saint, ol' Rollie does, and guardian angels ain't saints, not exactly. So his put in for a transfer, and I got optioned into the role. Just in time, too, it seems.

It was right after Loubar did it again; stole Rollie's face, three days from his life, and did Angie too wrong to ever be right again, you know? Threw Rollie real bad; put him off his mark for weeks, right into the most dangerous movie to get wrong, and Angie not really there, either. 'Course, Rollie shouldha known better, anyway; he was the 3rd F/X agent to be hired in, not that anyone like the director told him so. They wanted to do a flick like "Aliens meets the Terminator vs the Men In Black", or something equally ripoff sleeze, and do it last week to beat the rush of quality movies coming out soon. Cutting corners was more than standard procedure, it was a way of life with this hotshot director. No wonder the two before Rollie just quit ... by suing first. So mr. big was in a bigger hurry, before the suits hit the courts and shut him down.

He gave Rollie two days to set up the big blowup, and that would have been no sweat, he got it down fine. After all the charges were placed, after everyone was cued for marks and moves .... the idiot changed the vehicle being blown up. Drove in a semi instead of the planned for mini-van. Rollie went over to argue with the guy, and mr. I-know-what-I'm-doing hits the detonator. Blew Rollie into the air; good news is he blew himself into my new neighborhood. Man, and I thought riding a bronco was a hard day's work. Took every trick I didn't know I knew to change the direction of that blast so it killed sideways, not Rollieways. Hey, don't complain. If Rollie hadn't got hurt at all, someone would have been real suspicious, expecially since it was Mr. Tyler who set the charges. Can't mess with the laws of physics too much, y'know. All I did was move the shrapnel into a different portion of the concussive wave, and let a clean blast of hot air hit Rollie. You don't like it, let's see you do better your first day on the job with this guy, huh?

Five hours in the hospital, then home with bruised ribs, a hellofa sunburn look, and a nasty headache. Yeh, there was an investigation, but boy did those already-filed lawsuits help. Along with testimony from the stuntmen who, miracle of miracles , (ha ha, that one was easy) chose to walk out the moment the vehicle was switched. They knew you don't switch horses in the middle of the river, so to speak. So all's well that ends well ... until the next time Rollie makes me sweat bullets, that is. Now I gotta go and argue with someone about the accommodations in this joint. If George Burns can have cigars, why can't I? Just to chomp on at least!