Dr. Grision had just finished addressing me in a most unprofessional manner, particularly for a psychiatrist. I deserved it of course. After all, I did barge into his office without an appointment, and he was seeing someone at the time. Besides, I wasn't a patient of his, and as far as he was concerned I was just one more mad man, crashing his party.

Unfortunately nothing I had to say was going to change his mind, but for some strange reason, he decided to see me anyway.

"I'm telling you Doc, I think I'm losing it. People disappearing, ghosts, it's all too weird for me. I'm just a simple hack writer. Usually we make this stuff up, but this… this was too real."

Dr. Grision just sat there stone-faced, nothing betraying the thoughts underneath. I stared at him for a moment looking for some kind of reassurance that I wasn't losing my mind, but something told me I was going to have a long wait.

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The wait wasn't as long as I thought. Moments after I finished my bizarre tail of woe, two large men in white coats burst into Dr. Grision's office, and quickly hustled my out the door. Seems the good doctor was just stalling for time, while his secretary called in reinforcements.

They made me slip into something less than comfortable, tossed me into the back of a well padded truck, and drove off without saying a word. Not that I minded, I wasn't in much of a conversational mood anyway. I did however miss being able to scratch my own nose, a situation that had me wishing I'd paid more attention to one of those escape artists on TV.

Then, just as I was beginning to accept the situation, things went from bad, to worse. The truck came to an abrupt halt, sending me flying toward the rear doors. I shut my eyes, clenched my teeth, and braced my self for the worst, but it never came. Instead I found myself lying face down in dirt. I raised my head slowly, expecting to see my captors coming to reclaim me, but the only thing there were Brian's slimy feet.

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"Miss me?" Brian asked, a slight tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"How could I," I responded, "I haven't had time.

"I tried to warn you. You can't run away from this. Things will just keep getting weirder if you try."

I tried glaring up at him, but realized the effect was being diminished by my somewhat undignified position.

"Here, let me help you up," Brian said, as he reached out his hand.

Of course, being the idiot that I am, I fell for it. My hand passed effortlessly right through his, and I fell flat on my face… again. A condition, I was rapidly growing accustom too.

"Ok, enough already, I get the point. What in hell do you want from me?" I snapped.

"Sure you're ready to hear this? The last time we talked, you ran off and disappeared on me."

I looked for some sign of sarcasm, but Brian's ghostly visage revealed nothing.

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"Ok," I said, staring up at Brian. "What the hell is so damned important, that you had to come all the way back from the dead just to tell me about it."

"Death sucks," he said with a straight face.

"That's it?" I yelled. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Ya, I was," he said laughing himself silly.

"Will you stop with the wise cracks and tell me what the hell is going on?" I demanded as I struggled to my feet.

"I could," he said sarcastically, "but I'm having way too much fun."

Suddenly he stopped smiling, and seemed distracted for a moment.

"Ok, ok. I'll tell him already," He said seeming to speak to no one in particular. "Some people have no sense of humor." He said.

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A small dark cloud appeared to materialize out of nowhere, zapping his behind with a rather nasty jolt of electricity. He began gyrating wildly about, as the cloud disappeared as quickly as it came. I briefly wondered what was going on, but quickly decided it was better not to ask.

"I've been told to tell you that you're running out of time, and so far your track record. Well let's face it, your track record sucks."

I was waiting for the punch line, but it never came. He wasn't kidding, and I started to sweat like the preverbal pig at a luau.

" And that means what? I'm going to some place hot and nasty?"

"Sorry kid," Brian said dryly, "it doesn't work that way. Each of us has our own private hell. We carry it around with us all the time, no matter where we go."

"Meaning?"

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"Well take me for example, I used to play head games with you all the time. In fact the Powers-That-Be, have informed me, that it's my fault you became a hack writer, instead of the whiz kid you were supposed to be."

"Brian, what on earth are you babbling about? I'm a mediocre journalist, who can barely string two thoughts together. I hardly think that qualifies me for greatness."

"And how do you think you ended up that way?"

"Too much partying, womanizing, boozing and pot smoking at collage I guess. I'm not really sure anymore. To be honest with you, it's all a bit of a blur now."

"Exactly. Now, do you remember who led you down that road? I did. Before I got my hands on you, you were as dull as a well used pencil, a major bookworm destined to change the world. And just look at you now. You're nothing more than a Dumpster diver, looking for a lead story to jump up and bit you on the ass. Well guess what. One just did."