The fifth time I died I was on my way to

The fifth time I died I was on my way to the baccarat lounge on the starliner Tiburon. It shouldn't have happened in an age of amped humans and intelligent ships, but the airlock d

of my eyes & float into outer space, full of philosophical thoughts. Annie didn't quite get my message about the ship's owner, but she understood now that the airlocks were leaky.

If you know what I mean. Incontinence was no laughing matter though, and I gave Annie a stern lecture about that when I had a moment between solving world hunger and picking my new

best friend's seat. You know what they say: you can pick your friends, you can pick your seat, but you shouldn't pick your friend's seat. Annie and I sat down for dinner at

the table, looking at the faces around us. Some were familiar, some not. Annie looked at me nervously. I looked around and, awkwardly, said, "Um...hi. How's the food?"

You're feeding me my own leg and you expect me to remark upon it's flavor? It's cooked exquisitely, the flavor...perfect, is that what you hope to hear, you sick

, sniveling bastard. It's perfectly delicious! Is that it? There, you heard it straight from my mouth which is full of my own broiled flesh!

A tiger waited nearby and called me by name. How could Otto the elephant have told him who I lost my nicotrol inhaler? I folded a story instead and laughed out loud. Oh oh!

I've finally lost it. I'm surrounded by talking animals!