"Look Sid, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to man-handle you that way. It’s just that the assignment you gave me has me a little spooked."

Sid stopped dead in his tracks then turned and glared at me.

"Look kid, I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but you need professional help. I didn't give you an assignment. I've never even heard of PsiTronix Investigations. In fact I haven’t seen or spoken to you in over three month."

I looked at him as if he had gone mad, which was pretty much the way he was staring at me.

"What the hell are you talking about Sid? We had lunch together at Café Reisellas last Wednesday."

"Not a chance kid. I was in New York addressing a journalism convention on Wednesday. If you actually took the time to read the newspaper you supposedly work for once in a while, you would have known that. Now get your butt out of my office or I'll have security throw you out."

"But Sid"

"Don't you but Sid me. Your disappearing act was bad enough, but this... this crazy routine of yours, has gone too far. You’re finished. Done! Through! Fired! Now get your stuff, and get the hell out of here."

I fled Sid's office, and began wandering aimlessly, a festering fear burrowing its way deeper and deeper into the very center of my being. Either Sid had finally lost it, in which case the betting pool owed me a lot of money, or I was completely out to lunch.

Then, just as I had all but convinced myself that my poor diet and sinful ways had finally warped my mind, all doubt exploded in my face.

It wasn't so much the sight of my friend Brian emerging from a solid brick wall that shook me to my core. It was that fact he'd been dead for over nine years (the result of a nasty altercation with an eighteen wheeler) and until now, had had the courtesy to stay that way.

"Still crawling through dumpsters looking for dirt, Peter? I'm disappointed. I thought you'd be through with the newspaper biz by now."

My lips moved, but my vocal cords refused to budge.

"I see your conversational skill hasn’t improved either," Brian said, a slightly sarcastic tone resonating in his voice.

"And you look like crap." I snapped back.

"What did you expect? I'm dead. It's one of those things that don’t improve with age," he said dryly.

The entire situation was really starting to creep me out. There I was, carrying on a conversation with an old friend like it was yesterday, except this old friend just happened to look like road kill, and had been dead for the last nine years.

"Look Peter, I'm not happy about this either. Personally, If I had to come back, I would have preferred to take another crack at Julie Simpson, that blonde goddess from our Chem. Class."

I stifled a horrified laugh. "Yeah, right. Have you looked in a mirror lately? I've seen rancid meat that looks better then you do."

"Ok, so I look like crap. But then again, so do you. I however have a valid excuse. You, do not."

"Enough already," I screamed with a mixture of frustration and terror in my voice. "What do you want from me?"

The apparition smiled, pressed his hand firmly against my chest, and then slowly walked through me. By the time he emerged on the other side, I was drenched in an oozing mass of protoplasm, and knew what a used condom felt like.

"Your undivided attention, and a lot less lip," he spat back.

He had it. Besides, I was too grossed out to move.

"Pete my friend, I'm about to give you the thrill of a lifetime."

I was speechless. A rare event, that had occurred only once before in my life. However, it passed quickly.

"No thanks. The last stunt you pulled was funky enough," I said as I wiped the goo from my eyes. "I think I'll pass."

I decided to chalk up the experience to the leftovers that I had found lurking in the back of my fridge after all, and fled into the night, his voice mocking me as I ran. "You can't run away from this Peter. The harder you try to hide from your destiny, the faster it'll find you."