Chuck slapped his thigh. "But you wanna know the funniest thing?"

The snow-white winged unicorn across the table took a sip from the cup floating in front of her. "Enlighten me," she said.

Grabbing another pastry, Chuck laughed. "Here I am in heaven!"

She cocked her head, the pastel waterfall of her mane shifting to one side. "And why would that be funny?"

He dunked the pastry in his tea. "If you knew any of my ex-wives—or any of the other gals who've sued me over the years—you'd know how many times I've been told to go to Hell. But instead?" He waved a hand at the fern grotto surrounding them, sunlight flitting green and cool through the leaves and the sweet-smelling flowers on the tree branches curling overhead. "Look at this place! And look at me!"

"Oh, I am, Mr. Parker." A smile stretched over her snout. "I am."

With another laugh, Chuck took a big, slow bite of the pastry so it could melt all buttery and sugary over his tongue. "I mean, I'm wearing the same suit I wore when I marched into Wells Fargo and told 'em they were gonna give me the money I needed to start my business, I'm looking just as sharp as I did back then, and I can eat crap like [i]this[/i] again!" Tea trickled down his chin; he dabbed at it with the pastry. "If I'd've known death was gonna be like this, I would've stopped gobbling those damn pills the docs kept giving me!"

Feathers fluffing, the unicorn touched a napkin to her own chin. "You're enjoying the crap then?"

"Oh, yeah," he said around the rest of the pastry. "In fact, I used to hire only two kinds of gals at my place: fat ones 'cause they'd know the best bakeries to bring in crap for the break room, and curvy ones 'cause, well—" He swallowed and winked at her. "It's not an office without a little decor, is it?"

Her giggle sounded like little bells. "Well, you can see what [i]my[/i] office looks like."

A big breath let him revel in the simple sensation of having his lungs back whole and healthy. "You need a few of those slave girls from the movies, y'know? Nothing but a strip of gauze covering 'em up." He blew out the breath. "I mean, that's all most of 'em wear anymore anyway. But [i]I'm[/i] the one getting subpoenas when she's shoving her ass in my face! I mean, I'm [i]not[/i] supposed to grab a handful of that?"

She took another sip from her cup. "It sounds nearly impossible."

Running his fingers through his hair again was another great feeling. "I mean, why'd they think I hired 'em in the first place? With those smooth blouses asking to be unbuttoned and those skirts asking to be hiked up." He leaned back in his chair. "They wanted it: I could tell just by looking."

The cup settled gently to the table. "What marvelous eyesight you must have."

He did some more breathing, the old, tight, spiky feeling starting up in his gut. "So I'd give it to 'em, and even if I married 'em later, [i]bam![/i] All they really wanted was my money. Settlements or alimony, didn't matter which, the lousy, rotten—"

"Yes, well." The winged unicorn sat forward. "I've heard enough. We'll be sending you back to our original series."

Chuck perked up. "Old fashioned, y'mean? Clouds and halos and harps?"

"Not exactly." That glow sprang up around her horn and smashed over him like a bucket of ice water.

"What the Hell!" he sputtered. Springing to his feet, he wiped his eyes and—

His hands. They...they looked like badly drawn cartoons...

"You'll be Krastos, the Glue Maker." She nodded. "You'll foalnap some baby ponies from Paradise Estate to boil them down, but Megan and her friends will stop you. In the process, you'll fall into your own vat, become a pile of goo with blinking eyes, and will end up in a jar on Windwhistler's desk." Her smile suddenly looked more like a knife slit. "You'll be in syndication, too, so this will happen over and over again. For all eternity."

Blinking, he stared down at himself, as flat as a paper cutout. "But I thought—"

"Did you? I certainly saw no evidence of [i]that[/i]." Her horn flared again. "Have a nice death, Mr. Parker." And everything went black.