I, Daisy Chainsaw, have lived many lives. Twenty-two, in fact. I just keep coming back. In 19 of my previous lives, I found myself at the top of a tall, tall building - at least 40 stories tall - facing an evil man in a mask. (At least, I assume he was evil, because he wore a mask.) All 19 of those times, I was able to aim small daisies that shoot from my fingernails straight at his heart, causing him to fall backwards over the ledge of the building. Each and every time, the onlookers ooh-ed and ah-ed at the beauty of a masked man covered in small daisies falling through the air like a floating embroidered veil. And each time, I was overcome with remorse, so I used my supersonic rollerblade feet to zip down the side of the building and catch him with a chain-of-daisies lasso before he fell to his death. I just couldn't take the violence, and the guilt at being the cause of someone else's death. Each time I saved this man, he would look me in the eye as I lowered him to safey, and thank me by shooting me in the heart with some small pistol he had up his sleeve. I would die a tragic death, but each time, I was brought back to life with a broken mirror and some blood-red lipstick (my own personal anti-death) by my sidekick, Pickles.

How my other four lives ended, I can't remember quite as well. I had a chainsaw. It was big and mean and ugly (except for the small daisy painted on the lower right side so I would know it was my own). Currently, I am trying to solve the mystery of those other four lives. I keep forgetting my past. I don't know why I am drawn to violence and tall buildings. I am on a mission to remember who I am.

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