Well, I suppose you only live once. Not that

Well, I suppose you only live once. Not that skydiving would ensure the continuation of that life. Nonetheless, the love of my life was convinced it would finally rid me of my fear

, or did she want to be rid of me? The thought hadn't occurred to me until I was 18,000 feet up in a tiny plane with a "100% fail-safe chute" strapped on. I thought I could trust

her. I thought I could trust parachute manufacturers at least, but a quick glance at a tag that read "Hecho en San Theodoras" and I knew she had betrayed me.

This wasn't a parachute, it was a poncho. But I was already outside the plane and free falling, a little late to be checking the pack. But I spread out the poncho into a flying sui

-te. Days Inn had a new line of flying suites because of failed negotiations with land developers. My poncho and I crashed into the sliding glass door on a couple's balcony. A bird

done this once already, it's ghostly imprint and all that remained on the sliding glass door. You could see the head imprint. The cat looked satisfied and full. The couple inside

were picked clean to the bones from the cat's sharp teeth. Conning people with this ghost was the best move the cat had made since switching to wet food. Something about the

nice big fat juicy rats-the plump ones-the kind that when you bit into them, their guts would burst into your mouth with the most amazing flavor & dribble down your furry lil chin.

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