They say when you die you void your bowels. That's not always true, but in this case it unfortunately is. Aside an unkempt and trash lined country road, a burlap wrapped figure lays burned and flayed in a puddle of his own stinking filth. His name is Edith, many would say it's a woman's name, saying it to him however wouldn't be advisable. To think just a week ago he was in one of the most sought after vacation destinations around, Heaven.

Well unfortunately it's not all it's cracked up to be for a guy like Edith. He was a bit of a black sheep beyond those pristine pearly gates. You see, his issue is he likes to party, and not the go on a bender and kick it with a couple of friends kind of party. More like the pick a fight with the entire West Wings basketball team, decapitate them, then smoke demondust in a pillow fort he crafted from their twinkling corpses kind of party. In Heaven he's what they call "a bit of a fuck up". Now I know you're sitting there all confused, wondering why we're here talking about a shit-covered dead angel. Well he's not dead, not for good at least.

Edith's eyes spring open, they sparkle with a mesmerizing turquoise tint, they're the one visibly appealing trait on this mess of a man. He takes a quick, but thorough look at his surroundings in an attempt to understand what shithole he’s wound up in this time. The answer, the same stinking gutter in the outskirts of some small East Texas town he wakes up in every time. You see Edith here, he can't die. No matter what he tries he always wakes up, and he's tried it all. Drowning, shooting, hanging, burning... He’s even tried giving himself cancer, but after a couple calls on a cell phone and a penis microwaving incident, he decided he's immune.

Edith gets to his feet and dusts off the charred rags he pretends are clothes. A sense of unease flashes across his face, he sprints to the closest fast food wrapper in his vicinity and promptly uses it to wipe the feces from his backside. As he scrapes the brown matter from his rear he notices a small syringe half deployed in his left buttcheek. He almost instinctively injects the concoction and releases a sensual growl in delight.

"Well now I've tried everything,” he mutters to himself.

You see, Edith isn't some depressed, troubled soul who desperately wants a way out. In fact he quite enjoys being alive, hell he doesn't even mind being human. What he can't stand however, is...

"Traitorous fucking angel bitches." Edith grunts.

Edith.. he wants to die, not to end his life, but for the opportunity to exact revenge upon those he feels have wronged him.

An SUV veers down the winding country road, he dramatically disrobes to nothing and dashes into the center of the road. His back is horrifically scarred, they say they only way to remove an Angel's wings is to be plucked by God himself and cauterized with hellfire. The car screeches to a stop at about an inch from Edith's abdomen; knowing he cannot die, he doesn't even flinch. The car sits motionless, seated in the driver's seat is a mother, a woman in her mid-30’s, her face twisted in utter confusion. In the passenger seat sits her 4 to 5 year old son.

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"This is mine now, open the door," Edith calmly demands.

As you can see, he's used to getting exactly what he wants.The woman begins struggling for a moment to get her son unbuckled.

"Move," he says as he opens the driver side door.

He then reaches across the woman and unbuckles the young boy with ease. With the keys still in the ignition he plants his smeared ass into the the driver’s seat and gives the two a smug salute. The woman and the boy now stand on the side of the road as this strange nude man begins to speed down the road in what was previously their car, but is most definitely now his.

So where are we going? Not an easy question to answer when talking about Edith unfortunately. He's someone you could define as easily distracted, which is surprising considering the high level at which he can hold a grudge.

His plan is to find a backdoor to heaven and kill his best friend Joe, well ex best friend. A fellow angel who “Didn’t have his goddamn back.” He's also made it clear he intends to “butt-fuck God’s stupid face until it explodes,” willing he has the time. Unfortunately there isn't exactly any easy way back to heaven outside of dying, which is out of the question in his case, and chances are he'd probably end up downstairs this time around anyways. All he has to go on were the recent rumors that there is a new stairway being built in Dallas, Texas. No clue as to where in the city it would be and if there was even any truth to this rumor, but a lead's a lead.

As he drives down the winding country road a smug grin creeps across his face. He begins to think about how much of a badass he is for driving so well his first time behind the wheel. The road seems endless, seeing what looks to be the same alternating rows of skimpy cotton bushes and pecan tree makes Edith's restless mind grow anxious.

Where the hell am I?

A good question. He’s just been following every road sign he sees that say Dallas, the last about an hour back said he was 400 miles away. Edith begins eyeing every exit knowing that somewhere close had to be a bar or various seedy establishment where he can get his fill of excitement. And sure enough, the next billboard

Tit-eaze: The milkiest affair this side of The Brazos.

This looks like his kind of spot.