So, in short, I died. There's no longer any point in reading this since you know the outcome. Go away; no one likes you and they sure as hell aren't going to think much more highly of someone that's looming over a corpse. What's your problem? Doesn't the smell of my rotting flesh disturb you in the slightest? No? Well, you're my type of person then. Sit back and I'll tell the tale of my demise.

It all began on my birthday, which was last Thursday. I thought, "Boy, that's sure clich�," so I changed the date to something a little more unpredictable. And then it all began over again on the forty-third of February. It was a lovely winter morning. The trees flitted through the air, the birds were firmly cemented into the ground headfirst, and the shrubbery was, as usual, soliciting donations for the Ronald McDonald House Charity - all was right with the world. I had decided that since it was a special day I would take an unusual route to school in hopes of being enlightened.

Being enlightened, however, came about in too literal of a way. I was crossing the street just about a block from my house when, out of nowhere, a Pinto came lumbering down the street with its headlights on (at a speed around two hundred and sixty kilometers per hour according to Michelle, the young French bum that lives on the corner of Tinsel and Hollister) and barreled right into me and came to a full stop after sufficiently denting my lucky cast-iron leggings. While I busied myself worrying about the condition of said leg-wear, the man got out of his car, crumpled over, and thanked God for giving him the one Pinto in the world that could survive a head-on collision with anything more than a fly.

I finished looking over the damage done to my belongings, turned to leave, then heard a booming voice say (with echoing for effect), "God damn it! I missed this one!" Divine lightening abruptly shot from the clouds (not the Earth, mind you - who says divinities have to be scientific?) and struck the driver of the Pinto. I walked over to his smoldering corpse, mostly out of curiosity, and salvaged everything that I could. Strangely enough, his wallet was intact. Although I was puzzled by its pristine state, I pocketed it and took some time to smell the Ozone that had been a by-product of the lightening. After a few minutes, I thought I was getting high� and then after another few I realized I had been inhaling poisonous Ozone gas and I took a last sniff before blacking out.

When I awoke, I was flying through the air on an air molecule. The wallet I had pillaged was glowing in my pocket. I took it out and opened it and, to my astonishment, Michelle the young French bum popped out. He floated at my side for a while before I asked him how he fit in the wallet. Michelle told me that he was a genie and that he was obligated to grant me three wishes. I notified him that he hadn't answered my question and he gave me a dirty look. So, out of frustration, I wished that he'd tell me how he fit in the wallet. "It's a French clown thing," Michelle said blandly.

After realizing I had wasted a wish, I thought out my next two carefully. "Well," I began slowly, "I wish I had the love of my life here with me." The genie blinked with one eye and nodded at the same time, much like the witches in Bewitched. Suddenly, Emerald was standing in front of me with a rather confused look on her face. It was a matter of seconds before I started drooling and a matter of milliseconds after that that I was slapped harder than I've ever been and she was stamping away... through the sky. I asked Michelle why she slapped me and he explained that although she may be the love of my life, I was not the love of hers. Then he slapped me and said he only did it because it looked like fun.

For my last wish, I decided to be more of a philanthropist. I wished for the masses of the world to be intelligent. Michelle tried to stop me for some reason, but I convinced him it would be for the best. After he had granted my wish, he lowered me down to a street corner and climbed back into his mystical, glowing wallet and flew off. As soon as I touched the pavement, I was assaulted and murdered by a group of high schoolers. It became apparent to me that I had made people aware of the fact that I was dangerous to have around because of my radical outlook on things.

So, as I said, I died� And then some crazy person walked up to me and stared at my corpse for a long time. I finally decided to tell him about� oh wait, never mind.