3Chapter One: My murder I can hear the sounds of my medical equipment hooked into my body. The beeps, and pings of the monitors indicate that my brain and heart are still alive, but it is just a matter of time for my death to be complete. I have been murdered, for now; my body is paralyzed, and the medical staff on my caseis sadly clueless. A tox screen my detect what is killing me, but for now, the thingthat the tests they have run show them nothing except a guy with good cholesterol, nosign of a heart attack, but no sign of muscle movement. I know this since I can hear all the doctors, and nurses come into my room talk briefly then leave. I try to move, but nothing. I try to speak, but nothing.My name is Billy Pilgrim Vonnegut. No, I am not related to Kurt or his family tree. Alittle fame or the right connection seemed to always escape me like a roach under the kitchen counter. And so it goes. The nutter of it. Life for me was being in theright place at the wrong time. It was just an odd twist of fate that I got stuck with this weird name, Pilgrim, asit was supposed to be Phillip, but then someone made giant typos and had been adevoted fan of John Wayne that day in 1948. If this story is somewhat odd, surreal,it is because my recollections are somewhat clouded by the nervous breakdown and myex-wife's attempt to kill me for pure greed and insurance money. I escaped that one,as my wife who normally didn't cook started cooking and trying to get me to eat her meals. What she didn't know was that I had set up web-cams hidden in the house, whichrecorded her new found culinary pursuits. The wife was not known for her pursuit of being a foodie, as she normally went to BUN ON The Run fast food and called it anight.My wife's new-found pursuit of cooking made me suspicious of what she planned for themarriage. Bingo, the web-cam showed my loving wife had been grinding up a light bulband putting in my food. I tricked her by keeping a bag underneath the kitchen table,and as soon as she left the room. I merely threw the meal into the trash. Before, Icould call the cops, she had taken off with her boyfriend to parts unknown, but shedid leave me with the gift of my three rottenly spoiled kids, all teenagers. Mostlikely, she found out that I changed the will and that the life insurance policy had been voided. Her biggest booby trap was the kids who she turned against me. It was amoot effort, as I didn't spoil them, so they already hated me.