[ WP ] You have entered into a life-long contract with your super-celebrity doppelganger . You live a life of absolute luxury with one stipulation : your life belongs to the celebrity , and you must obey their orders . Your cell phone rings oneday , and you are told you must make the ultimate sacrifice .

**I realized too late that this was supposed to be written in the first person. I'm too lazy to rewrite, so here you go. ** 
 
 `` You want me to *what*?'' 
 
 `` Indeed, Mr. Grey. As we both know, your contract demands it. I expect you here in 10.'' 
 
 ``... look, I'll come over, and we'll discuss this, ok?'' 
 
 `` You'll come over, but there'll be no discussing.'' 
 
 *Click*. 
 
 `` Damn.'' 
 
 -- - 
 
 It was 10:22am when Mr. Grey finally arrived at the mansion of his employer. 
 
 `` Exactly 2 minutes and 21 seconds late, Mr. Grey; you're losing your touch.'' 
 
 With the name of Halmond Smith, it was no wonder that good'ol Halmond was a little... nutty in the head. He was a brilliant actor, a wonderful singer, but with his own little peculiar quirks. For instance, where he had once enjoyed the show business, he now avoided the limelight as much as possible. The tabloids spent weeks running stories about his legendary encounters with paparazzi; the most recent one involved him dropping the world's second largest water balloon onto a group of photographers and reporters. Thank goodness he was rich enough to afford such theatrics. 
 
 But Halmond tired of this soon after, which is where Mr. Grey came in. Side by side, Mr. Grey showed an uncanny resemblance to Halmond; but as a makeup artist, the deception quickly became complete. Now, Mr. Grey was the one who dealt with the paparazzi, usually in the form of darts, paintball guns, and the occasional fire hose. 
 
 But Halmond Smith soon tired of this too, and was ready to spin things up a bit. 
 
 `` Come upstairs with me, Mr. Grey; and I'll tell you what I want you to do.'' 
 
 They sat on the outside balcony, with gave a grand view of Halmond's expansive and expensive backyard: carefully tended lawns, a massive swimming pool, a giant sculpted banana. 
 
 `` Quite the view from here, eh?'' 
 
 `` Yes, Mr. Smith.'' 
 
 `` Good. Jump.'' 
 
 ``... why?'' 
 
 `` Is n't it obvious?'' Halmond leaned casually against the 50 caliber custom-mounted paintball gun that guarded the backyard. `` It's not enough is it? The crowds, the cameras, the reporters... *ugh*. They'll find out soon, and they'll be all over me!'' 
 
 ``... I fail to see the reasoning behind this.'' 
 
 `` So I fake my death! Haha! You jump, they'll find your body splattered beautifully all over that patio, while I make my escape to Fiji and nobody will be any the wiser! No more attention, no more crowds... it'll be paradise!'' 
 
 `` And you expect me to give my life for this?'' 
 
 `` Of course! It's in the contract, is n't it? Look, I even wrote me... er, you... a suicide note! Save you the trouble of writing one yourself, hehehe... here you go.'' 
 
 Mr. Grey looked at the note extended to him, than at Halmond's face, then at the note again. 
 
 `` They were right about you, Mr. Smith.'' 
 
 `` What? Who?'' 
 
 `` You *are* insane.'' 
 
 And with that, Mr. Grey hoisted him over the railing. He flinched a bit when he heard the crunch as bone met granite, then looked down. 
 
 `` Looks like you were right about one thing, Mr. Smith.'' 
 
 The blood seeped out beautifully over the patio. 
 
 `` Tell me, how's paradise from down there?'' 
 
 From his car, Mr. Grey fetched his makeup kit. There was plenty of time before he need call the police.
