Groundhog Life (Working Title)

n entire lifetime wasted. My life was a total waste. I lived, I died. There was nothing useful or meaningful in between. Sure, I had kids, so my "legacy" could continue, but what good is that when I'm not even sure there IS a future. I was born in 1956. I died in 1999. Death was a little of a joke. I choked on an olive. Nobody around me was smart enough to do the Heimlich. I didn't even like olives. Still don't. That is the beginning of my curse.

Yes, I am cursed. I am immortal. At least it seems that way so far. Every time I die, I am born. I'd love to say "born again," but that has religious overtones that I'd rather not imply. In addition, it's not really "again" when it's the SAME birth. By the way, no matter how many times it happens, getting your head crushed by a birth canal is NOT fun.

My second life was exciting and fun. I "knew" the future, so life was pretty easy. I partied, screwed around, partied, and screwed around, ad infinitum. So, in reality, ANOTHER lifetime wasted. I didn't even live much longer the second time. I made it to 54 that time. It was a car wreck. My driver was high, ala Princess Diana. In our case, we didn't have paparazzi chasing us as an excuse.

Number 3: Finally, I realized something was more than a little weird. During the first repeat, I thought I was just a lucky guy. The second got me thinking. I know what you're going to ask. "Didn't you think during your SECOND life?" Sure, I did. I thought "Sweeeeeeet! I'm gonna be RICH and GET LAID and SWEEEET. I never claimed to be the sharpest pencil in the drawer. Most people would have done some kind of self-inspection. I am not proud to say I did no such thing. I just coasted through. It took me nearly 100 years of life to even acknowledge the age old philosophical question "why." Without the two (quite painful) deaths, I might have taken even longer. Death HURTS.

Did I mention I'm not all that smart?