I'm Dead, and I'm Just GIDDY About It!
Hi! My name
is was Emily Quartermaine! I had a super amazing life. "You can never be too rich or too thin"? Could easily have been written just for me! Crazily pretty and not yet even 30, I had: a promising career as a doctor (which I only had to spend 42 minutes in medical school to get), a handsome and rich fiancé, a loving mother and a loving-though-morally-questionable brother, great friends, usually fabulous hair, and a ton of mascara and lipgloss. Other than the occasional flashback to a romantic slip-up a year or so ago (which I agreed never to speak about publicly because it made my mom and passers-by on the street cry), and the unnecessary death of my father a few months back, my entire existence was really fantastic!
Then some asshole killed me.
And for a minute, I was, like, totally buggin'! But then I realized: DEATH IS AWESOME.
My fiance's aunt expressing serious concern about his mental health and well-being? Hee!
Seeing a newspaper headline, announcing my brutal slaughter at the hands of an unknown killer? Uproarious!
A detective accusing my fiance of murdering me? Hysterical!
I'm telling you, death gets SUCH a bad rap.
Watching Natalia Livingston in these scenes, I want to reach through the screen and shake her, yelling, "You're putting the emPHAsis on the wrong sylLABle!"
And while I'm there, I'll beat Bob Guza about the head with heavy objects. Preferably ones with sharp edges.
Most screencaps courtesy of Clarissa.