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I’ve been writing my life story with actions not words. It’s been coming along pretty well. I try to follow traditional story form. Sometimes it’s tricky because events get away from me.

Is that supposed to happen? I thought this was supposed to be my life. But somehow it comes out looking like a series of uncorrected proofs.

You know how the story form works? We start at an inflection point, a key moment when something of critical importance must happen. This crisis is seemingly solved (or at least concluded) but that leads—seemingly inevitably—to a series of crises that follow each other by design.

By the end, the protagonist (that’s me!) faces a final defining struggle. It resolves itself reaching an unexpected yet sensible, satisfying conclusion.

I started this thing with a duel. I was insulted by my boss at work (I’m a certified public accountant), when he claimed my numbers didn’t add up.

“You cut me to the quick!” I said to him. “How dare you question my professional competence!” Then I demanded a duel.

Nice setup, huh?

Okay, so I arrive at the designated spot in the woods with my pistol. I declare that we count off ten steps, turn and fire. Only I can’t see the guy too well. He’s pretty far off. So, I count my steps as planned, and fire.

I hit my mark only it’s not my boss. Turns out my boss decided I was nuts so he didn’t show up. I shot a hunter.

Well, the hunter doesn’t die but he’s messed up pretty good and he sues me. I talk to a lawyer who tells me I’m in big trouble, but I tell him the strategy I want to use: tell the truth. (See how I’m consistent with themes? Clever, I think.)

My lawyer quits and I end up representing myself because I can’t find a lawyer who thinks that telling the truth is a good idea.

I go through with it. I tell it to the judge. “Yes, I shot the hunter but I thought he was my boss who insulted me and, coward that he is, failed to show up for our duel and you can’t expect a man to remain silent when his integrity is so egregiously attacked and the hunter is getting better anyway so let’s be reasonable and end this right now and just go home. Okay?”

The media frenzy was pretty wild in the courtroom and I overheard many of them say that I’m gonna be locked up for a long time and I was getting kinda worried thinking maybe they’re right.

But the judge says: “That guy is crazy. Bailiff, release that man.”

And just when I think I’ve pulled it off, as I’m walking down the steps of the court building, I see my boss. He hands me that project I was working on. I look at the figures and I’ll be damned but they don’t add up.

I came so close to living a perfect storybook life, but I botched the ending. Or did I?