Ghost Writer

With so many fans now, thanks to Joe.My.God's sterling endorsement of my kitten billboard, I am certain to crack under the pressure of power blogging. I don't know how such luminaries do it, day after day, month after month!

My bar graph spiked. I was overjoyed and utterly terrified! I wept at my typewriter last night. I sat and stared at the keys. A chill wind blew in through my open window. My scented candle flickered. I saw a shadow dart up the wall. It was then a key clicked and black ink struck the paper:

N

And more.

E

And more. My hands were on my lap and the keys were moving!

I L :

And even more!!

T H I S I S T H E G H O S T O F B L O G G E R S P A S T !

I screamed!!! The words typed themselves! I gulped my Makers and soda and shrieked again as the keys moved themselves again.

W H A T A R E Y O U G O I N G T O W R I T E A B O U T T O N I G H T ?

I screamed again and rolled away from my desk. Still the keys continued clicking rhythmically, like a funeral drum!

P E R H A P S Y O U C O U L D W R I T E A B O U T A C H I L D H O O D M E M O R Y ?

I howled in terror and threw myself to the floor in a fetal position!

O H R E M E M B E R W H E N Y O U R L I T T L E B R O T H E R F E L L O U T O F T H E C A R ? T H A T W A S S C A I R Y A N D S T I L L F U N N Y .

I pulled at my hair and wept. My typewriter was possessed by a malevolent entity! Oh gloom and doom? How did this horror creep into my world?!

Y O U S A W A T R A N S E X U A L O N T H E T R A I N B E F O R E R U G B Y . T H O S E A R E A L W A Y S F U N S T O R I E S .

No! I gathered myself from my sobbing pile and clawed my way into the kitchen. I opened a drawer and frantically found a butcher knife!

H O W A B O U T L A S T N I G H T W H E N Y O U C R O S S E D T H E S T R E E T W H E N A Y O U N G M A N O F A D I F F E R E N T R A C E W A S A P P R O A C H I N G Y O U ? W A S T H A T D U E T O A N A C T U A L S A F E T Y C O N C E R N O R P E R H A P S S O M E S O R T O F I N T E R N A L I Z E D S T E R E O T Y P E ?

Tears continued to fall down my cheeks as I grasped the butcher knife firmly by the handle ... and began to slice onions for a lovely avocado and apricot salad. And still the typewriter clicked away independent of me. It was getting kind of annoying by now actually.

O H ! I G O T I T L O L ! Y O U S H O U L D W R I T E A B O U T H O W Y O U S O M E T I M E S F E E L A L I T T L E C O N N E C T E D A T T H E H I P I N Y O U R R E L A T I O N S H I P W I T H B R Y C E . I M S U R E H E W O U L D N T M I N D . H E H A S E X P R E S S E D T H E S A M E T O Y O U .

I nibbled my salad and reviewed Ghost Blogger of the Past’s last suggestion. “Oh whatever Casper. Do you think I’d bring up crap like that on this public forum? There’s enough lesbian jokes and what not about our relationship. I don’t need to give Foxy anymore fodder.”

N O N E E D T O G E T U G L Y . W E A R E B R A I N S T O R M I N G H E R E .

“Ok. Sorry. Hey by the way, you misspelled scary up above. There’s no I in it. And all caps is really hard to read.”

D O Y O U H A V E A N Y I D E A H O W F U C K I N G H A R D I T I S T O B L O G F R O M B E Y O N D T H E G R A V E ?

“Geez. Sorry! You’re a real jerk.”

F O R G E T T H I S . T H E R E A R E S O M A N Y O T H E R B L O G G E R S W H O D E S E R V E M Y H E L P M O R E T H A N Y O U .

“Hey! I said I’m sorry Ghost Blogger of the Past. Cut me some slack. I’m drunk and all I have for dinner is salad.”

O K .

“So what is Heaven like?”

Y O U A S S U M E T O O M U C H M O R T A L .

I flipped channels from my desk watching the television in the living room. “Oh, so you’re in Hell I guess?”

F O R E T E R N I T Y .

“That sucks. So this is your punishment? Helping bloggers come up with creative ideas for posts?” I finished my salad and put the bowl in the sink for Bryce to wash, “So what’s Satan look like?”

R E D G U Y H O R N S G O A T S F E E T .

“That’s not very creative.”

G U E S S N O T .

L I S T E N M A Y B E I S H O U L D G O . I G O T S O M E O T H E R B L O G S T O W R I T E . . .

“Oh, ok. I guess. Well, thanks Ghost Blogger of the Past. Maybe I’ll use some of your ideas. I was going to write about a gorilla that dresses like Marilyn Monroe and helps me prevent the assassination of JFK.

T H A T S O U N D S R E A L L Y D U M B .

“Goodbye. Thanks again.”

And that was it. True story.