A Slice Scorn Kills

 Today I woke up in a dead guy’s coffin… underneath someone else’s body.

Me… William Branch… the King of True Crime… it’s not even the deluxe model for crap’s sake. And… good God in Heaven, it stinks of another man’s disease.
Wait, hold on a minute. I need a few moments to try to get a grip on my sanity before... before I get on with my ‘tell all.’ As you can imagine, my mind is… well... tripping all over itself but I want to tell my story before it’s too late.
Surely you’re curious as to how I ended up here — in this thing, this chariot to hell. Or perhaps you’re more interested in what I did to piss off someone that grandly. I could just tell you, but I think it’s best if I weave you my tale and you draw your own conclusions.
As I said, my name’s William Branch. You might have seen me on television or read about me. I’ve written fifteen wildly popular, true crime books. Last year, I sold the rights to one for a movie. This year, I’m slated to contract for another three books. I would say that my career is a hot commodity right now.
In the looks department, I’m not one of the best-looking guys and I don’t have muscles up the wazzu. In fact, I’m of average height and women typically describe me as… well, ordinary.
What I do have is money and lots of it. In my youth I was poor but now money’s no big deal to me, not since I married into it anyway. Now I have my own and my wife’s.
Plus I’m smart. Money and smarts trump good looks any day of the week.
By all accounts, life was looking good for me.
And yet here I am, waiting to become a crispy critter. Ironically, this is the one story line I never covered. A man being flash-fried for —
Crap! The whoosh of the crematory furnace firing up just rocked my coffin. Jesus… I didn’t realize the vibrations would be so fierce in here. Wait a minute... if the furnace is firing up, that means my time is running out, I better get on with it.
It all started with that damn Karina…