Sam Coleman was one of those rare people who look far better naked than they do fully clothed. He didn’t look bad in concealing garbs; however, as each item of clothing was removed from his body he slowly transformed into something resembling Da Vinci’s ‘Vitruvian Man.’ The immaculately chiselled body came as a surprise to even Sam. He’d spent his teenage years relatively inactive, and as an adult he’d passed his spare time drinking and smoking. He’d never been to a gym in his life; he wasn’t lazy – there was just no need. Sam Coleman hadn’t been to a doctor since he could remember either. He’d considered dropping into a medical centre for a check-up, but he’d been thinking that for almost ten years – he’d never really had a reason to go. Other than the occasional paper cut and Sunday hangover, his body ran without fault. At age 28 Sam Coleman was announced dead. He’d suffered a severe heart attack. The doctor said he hadn’t seen arteries that congested since John Candy’s death in ‘94.