It was his first day at his new job and he was nervous. He was walking through the city streets on his way to the offices of People magazine. He had been hired to write fluff pieces about celebrities. No more beating the bricks, chasing ambulances, creating false innuendo, or purposely misquoting people for him. These Hollywood types had nothing to say, so he just had to do the work of a stenographer. He could think of something else altogether while he was typing if he liked. And he would be making a bundle. It was his dream job. But on his way to work, his appendix burst and he fell into the street. Then a newspaper truck ran him over. Then a network news van. And that was that.