I’m back!
Cue the crickets—chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp…etc.
Well as you probably know by now, I’ve been missing for the better part of the last two weeks, but it’s not my fault. I was abducted, lured away—clawing and scratching—out of my attic… by my wife.
“Snookums,” I said “we can’t go on vacation now. What about my blog, my readers?”
“Well, what about em?” she asked, innocently enough.
“They’re going to abandoned me like the plague!” I replied. “You don’t know these people like I do. They’re all about quality writing, and all I have to offer them is this absurd and ridiculous blog. I realize that’s a lousy option, but if you take me away, who will they turn to instead?”
Her response?
“Relax, they’ll barely notice you’re gone. Besides, you know what they say… absence makes the heart grow fonder.” That’s when I knew she was out of touch with reality—because you guys barely tolerate me as it is!
“You don’t understand,” I pleaded, “I have my stats to consider. Why, if it weren’t for that amateur course in hypnotism—the I took for no apparent reason other than to have something to write about for this paragraph—I fear my followers (all of whom can’t explain their love for me) would have left my blog in cobwebs months ago.”
However, between you and me; I don’t obsess over such things—for more than 14 hours a day anyway—because that would be shallow.
Instead, I protested… and vigorously. “Dumpling, we can’t leave for vacation, not during the height of the WordPress blogging season! Are you mad?”
Okay, so I twisted the truth about the WordPress blogging season—that’s not until next month—but remember, I was doing it for you guys.
Anyhow, after her face reached a bright crimson color—which was immediately followed by steam escaping from her ears—I decided I’d better move onto my next argument… forcefully.
“Dumpling, precious, sweetheart, cupcake… only a blogger with followers numbering in the millions—and capable of producing better material than myself—would ever consider going on a vacation at this time of the year!”
She was having none of it. I was about to be taken—AGAINST MY WILL—to some horribly comfortable resort… complete with swaying palm trees. Dragged there by some 110-pound petite brute.
You can imagine my terror.
“Help me, help me please!” I screamed as she pulled me across the busy airport terminal floor by my ankles onto an awaiting flight. “My wife is taking me away from my readers to go on a vacation.” I screamed, “FOR TWO WHOLE WEEKS!”
Nothing. Absolutely no one, not one single person (nor married couple) stepped out of any of those LONG TSA lines.
Thus, I became just another missing person.
It was then I realized—to my horror—that settling for that coach ticket instead of first class—probably did nothing to prevent my abduction to some far off place.
I should have known better. After all, the heavy chain—the one I latched to myself and my laptop—hadn’t work either.
If only I hadn’t left those bolt cutters out—and in plain sight.
Nope, I was doomed. Doomed to go to a place where—despite my vigorous (albeit, impassive) protest—I was forced to lay around a pool like a beached whale. Waited on hand and foot, while powerless to do absolutely nothing but eat, sleep, and go to shows.
It was all I could do to escape my captivity—which happened when the hotel told me that our two-week stay in paradise was over. That is when I learned that my picture had never made it onto the back of a milk carton.
Leaving me to assume that they felt my rather large nose would only serve to distract from the truth of my absence.
Naturally, I couldn’t believe how the milk companies could leave you—my loyal and faithful readers—sitting there in the dark about my sudden disappearance.
So this post about my abduction became necessary.
Oh, but anyway, Toto, we’re home—home! And this is my blog—and you’re all here (well two or three of you anyway—and I’m not going to ever leave here again (unless I’m offered a seven-figure contract)—because I love you all (except for those of you who failed to return)—And… Oh, Auntie Em, there’s no blog like my own!
My apologies to The Wizard of Oz. Which reminds me… did I tell you how this huge tornado came down and swept me up to this land they call Oz?
Well you see, it all started when I encountered this witch… and well…