Mary was back home now, watching HGTV, spefically an episode about her favorite midgets.
I think dwarf is the right word. Or is it little person.
I apologize that wasn’t politically correct.
She kept telling herself she was a fool for believing her dead husband Tom had spoken to her. Now depressed and diagnosed schizoaffective, she was lost and without a purpose.
You see, Mary is me. And Mary is not too happy that Jesus never showed up for dinner. And to be honest, she’s also pissed that she’s back home. She wanted to glitz herself up and have a grand time, and now is lost in front of a TV, counting the hours until Tom returns.
Boo he said.
Goddamn it Tom, you know you can’t go sneaking up on people like that.
Aren’t you glad I came back, he replied.
Well, I did miss you. But don’t you see. I’m depressed and lonely. Everyone thinks I’m crazy because they don’t believe it’s you talking to me.
Nonesense, said Tom. I’ll prove them all wrong. And with the click of a finger, Tom was in her living room.
Ta da, he said.
Mary was startled and let out a faint whimper of gas. She always did that when she was nervous.
Tom, is it really you? She stood up and touched his arm, surprised by the tingle of his hairs that felt as real as the mole on her back right hand.
Baby it’s me, and I’m back, and guess what, I have a message to tell you!
What will the message be? Until next time folks, tune in to the Ongoing Adventures of Mary!