Thanks again Michelle, for today’s daily prompt.
I know you are shocked to hear from me. I appreciate the outpouring of support for MrTheCheekyDiva and the rest of my family when you heard the news of my untimely death. For those of you who didn’t see the reports on TMZ, I was the victim of spontaneous human combustion. Please pay attention to those public service ads. Do not light a cigarette in an enclosed space, such as a car or a phone booth, when you have shellacked your DO with too much hairspray.
Mr. TCD is doing fine under the circumstances, considering that the money continues to flow in due to your continued purchasing of The Cheeky Diva merchandise. Right now, the t-shirts, coloring books and coffee mugs are among the best sellers.
So how am I doing? I’m great! Other than the fact that I miss Mr. TCD more than I can tell you. I know he will join me when the time is right, and I keep myself busy and try to be patient as I wait for that day to arrive.
According to David Byrne, “heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.”, but since he’s not dead, he has no idea what he’s talking about. Heaven is exactly what you make it. I have a lot of fun here, in the Funny Old Lady section. I play shuffleboard with Erma Bombeck and trade outfits and barbs with Phyllis Diller on a regular basis.
Why and how am I trying to contact you now? Well, for the last few months, Mr. TCD, much like Harry Houdini, has been on the hunt for a medium who’s not a charlatan to communicate with me. After much searching, he found one. She’s a great gal, and has a lot of patience. Mr. TCD and I have had a chance to speak one last time, and I am shopping for a nice ethereal condo to share, but he informs me he won’t be moving in anytime soon.
I told him I wanted to speak to my readers again, even if it’s just once, because I miss them. I’ve discovered typing through a medium is a very tedious process, and this post took 37 hours of solid, mind-melding concentration to produce, and it’s hardly worth it, so you probably won’t hear from me again.
What do I want to say? Is it the secret to the meaning of life? Shit. You think someone like me would be privy to that kind of information? No way. All I want to say is this:
I can’t remember my password. Could someone who is an expert at hacking please take down my Facebook profile? I’m dead for the love of Pete. It’s creeping people out.