I've lived a full life. I've been in love; I've had my heart broken. I've seen my fair share of death. I've also experienced many deaths, but no ends. And that's the problem: no matter how much I die, I never go away. I always reappear in water, namely the East River, which happens to be where I am now.
It all started when I was a doctor aboard a ship to America in 1814. In addition to cargo, it was also carrying slaves. I attempted to free them and have them take control of the ship, but my death prevented that...
Flashback: A slave ship, 1814
"The man simply has typhoid fever! It is entirely treatable, I assure you!"
The captain brushed off Henry's words. "He is not a man, he is property." He motioned to anther crewmember. "Toss him overboard."
Henry stood in the way defiantly. "I will not let you do this."
"If you do not get out of the way, I will dispose of you as well."
"You'll have to."
"So be it." He raised his pistol, and shot Henry through the chest.
Henry blacked out from the pain. He had seen gunshot wounds before, but he never imagined they hurt as much as the bullet inside him did. It was almost... unnatural, something even he couldn't explain.
Next thing he knew, he was drowning. Saltwater filled his lungs, and he died. But not for long: he found himself bobbing up out of the water, just to see his destination, the shore of New York, ahead.
A/N: I realize that this was not a humorous chapter. I couldn't find a way to parody slavery, but I couldn't leave it out due to its integral part in the story. The next chapter will be much more light-hearted though... stay tuned!