Life on Mars. Cold, dark, a cop gets hit a car in 2006, and wakes up in 1973. Yes, I’m writing this as one of my stories. (Pardon me for breaking the fourth wall…but there’s no need to bust me fourth ball!) He, uh, (continue…) stops crimes and predicts the future like a fortune teller, sort of, like an oracle. You know, like the Matrix, like Batman, that kind of bit. What else then? He listens to David Bowie and whenever he uses nicknames they’re famous people not alive yet. Like Spageti!

The End