An Inverted Ann Landers
I got me a Marble Composition book like we used to use in grade school. I got it at the Dollar Store. Quick, how much did I pay for it? What was your answer? Write it down on the inside of your wrist.
It cost me $1.16. Is that what’s on your wrist? No? Why not? You forgot to add in the tax?
Somewhere out there right this minute someone is cheating and writing one-sixteen on his wrist with a ballpoint. Bingo! he says, and holds up his hand, all alone in his parked car by the river.
What I am is an inverted Ann Landers. People don’t write things to me, I write things to them. I answer questions people can’t formulate.
I’ve got a cult following, chapters in every state but Alaska. There’s an icon they wear on a chain around their necks. What do you think it is? Yes, write it down on your wrist.
Did you write bathtub? Do you think I’m the ghost of Jim Morrison? It’s a whole new ball game since Jim drowned in the bathtub.
I know, I haven’t told you what my cult followers wear around their necks. My suggestion, if you really want to know, is to walk the crowded streets of a big city with your arm in the air, exposing the wrist with your guesses on it.
Watch for anyone who makes eye contact.
