Inu Kaiba: The result of Ricky Martin's Horrid torture pounding my ears again and again. The title has to do with the end of the story.

Song of Inspiration: The same song as the fanfic, Living La Vida Loca. But the lines that inspired this fanfic were "Her lips are devil red, and her skin's the colour of mocha."

The Account of a Dead Man

Sango… How do I tell you about her? She is truly the most unique woman.

She likes Black cats, she has one too, the cat's name is Kirara. She's absolutely obsessed with those black cats. She compliments all her neighbor's on their cat's pedigree but only if the cat's colour is black. I think this might be part of her obsession of Halloween, she always decorates her house and gets decked out. Her costume is a black cat… EVERY YEAR!

I'm amazed at how she stands the same costume every year. It's a very big obsession.

She also has voodoo dolls of everyone she knows. If you piss her off well enough, beware of the pain you'll feel tonight. Those pins hurt.

From the moment I saw her, I knew I was cursed. I knew I'd never be able to look at another woman the same. And yet, the little voice in the back of my head said not to, Don't trust her. But who ever listens to the little voice anymore?

Every night she wants to do something different. One night it was a Mexican restaurant, fandangos and tangos and tacos.

Then the next night, it was Italian, wine and roses, guns and cheesy accents.

Yesterday it was Indian. She put on this fake turban, ate spicy food and made me laugh. She started dancing to the hindu music, I was in tears it was so funny.

Two weeks ago she was smoking. But I snapped my fingers and she was off the cigarettes.

Last week it was crack. She sniffed and sniffed the illegal drug, I thought her nose would fall off. I'm glad it didn't, her nose is too cute to be lost.

This week it's beer. I think I'll go broke just watching her soak my money up. Wait, I am getting broke from her beer addiction.

I did dance naked in the rain once. I was two, but none of you care.

I've been made to live her crazy life and I'm not the same. If I could, I'd try to take a bullet to the brain, she'd never let me though. She'd hunt me down and kill me in my next life.

I've been upside down, inside and out with her. And yet I still love her.

She's pushed me down when I've tried to be the playboy I am.

And yet, she's pulled me to my feet when I needed it the most.

Sango always liked the darkest red of lipsticks, and it brought out the mocha colour of her skin. It's not usually mocha coloured, it's all the blush she puts on.

I've been worn out, but will one day have to live the La Vida Loca.

I hope it won't kill me.

There was this one morning, I woke up in a cheap hotel. I knew we'd had sex it was just a gut feeling. I knew it wasn't the same. But staring at the paint peeled walls made me wonder how on earth we'd gotten from Tokyo, Japan to New York City, and why I didn't remember it. But the big question was…

Why on God's green earth would I bring a woman I was going to have sex with to a dinky hotel like this? I mean , the least I could have done, even in an inebriated state was take her to a nice hotel to have sex, not a funky cheap motel.

I had gathered my stuff that day, but notice my money was missing. When I asked Sango later, she said she was sorry, it was all a joke and she gave me back the money she took.

To this day I wonder why she did it, I wonder if maybe she went to find herself, and discovered something she didn't know.

From that day on, she no longer played the fields with men but was my steady girlfriend. And she made me quit my ways. The reason that makes me question her changes?

Never in a million years would Sango pay back money she used her wits and charms for to extract from someone.

I don't think Sango ever drank the water they put for you on the table at restaurants. She called it filthy and fit for pigs. Everytime we went out I had to order her French Champangne. It was the only drink she figured was not contaminated. How wrong she was… I'll never be the same. I'm going insane right now.

She was… Maybe I should stop this story's getting hard to tell…

Sango and I were to be married today no matter how crazy she was I still loved her.

But she died.

I've decided to commit suicide and this is my diary of my life with Sango.

I am to join her in the afterlife and I hope the reader of this will not try to stop me.

And as the book fell to the floor, the shot seemed to ring for eternity.

And then the body hit the flop with a thud that seemed as loud as an earthquake.

There was blood every where.

But the body had a smile on its face. He, the dead one looked more content than he had ever been.

The last words in the journal were smeared with blood but meant with all the love in his heart: I, Miroku, Love Her.

Miroku and Sango were in love in the Sengoku Jidai, in this crazy time period, and the love of their reincarnations continued for centuries to come. Miroku and Sango met in heaven when he commited suicide. Miroku and Sango forever!

Inu Kaiba: Nothing much to say. Just I hope you enjoyed it, liked the fact that I took the time to write it for you guys a second night in a row, and please Read and Review.

Edit: Based on Living La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin.