Lives of the Nouveau Riche

"You'll never be new money," he said, slicked-back dark hair glistening in the sunlight. "You want to make it in this city? Where you end up in your best case scenario—I was born there." Then he cocked his gun back and lodged a bullet in my brain.

**

When I first moved into a sprawling mansion in the Hamptons, my neighbors were kind enough to send me a gift basket. They were a nice couple: retired, whittling away the infinity of their incorporeal existence living by the sea. There's really not much you can do as a ghost. Read Descartes or Schopenhauer, I guess.

**

It was lovely seeing my in-laws at the wedding. Their family was from a small farming town out in the Midwest before an accidental fire burned down their house one night while they were all asleep. I think they've adjusted quite well to life in the big city.

**

I think I was profiled the other day. These other ghosts think they're hot stuff because they're less transparent. I didn't choose my opacity setting, assholes. I've got a bullet wound to hide.

**

Today I became a hitman. It's quite lucrative, though there's a lot of travel involved. Some wise-ass lifer with a Ouija board is making a killing assassinating people with our help. The victims are usually quite cheery when they first see me afterward. I always bring a gift basket.

**

I've been secretly following my wife around. I suspect she's been having an affair: somebody told me they saw her in Dubai last month when she said she was in Fargo on business. I finally found the other woman today. Oh my God. Who is she? I get drunk on jealousy.

—Alan R. Xie is the The Hero with a Thousand Faces. He has been referred to as "the darling of the Arts Board," or more affectionately, "Big Al."