Episode 38

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. The next day I was led upstairs by the same geeky looking boy. I sat on a couch and awaited my doom. After a lengthy interview by Miley’s father (and herself) they seemed to come to a conclusion about my sanity. They surmised, by looking at a recent psych ward record, no one would believe me if I told them she was bald. They let me loose that day. I never found out what happened to the old lady and young girl. I tried to go to the police, but they all seemed to be in love with Hannah Montana. No one would believe me, just as they said. Dejected, I turned my face towards the future and realized, I was better off forgetting the whole experience. And you should too. And that’s an order by Hannah Montana. After this incident (which we shall not mention again) I roamed the streets of Hollywood, observing people as they passed (gas that is.) People are the same here as they are in Kansas. Every third person or so seemed to be famous. At least they thought they were. They kept asking if I wanted their autograph. I said no, would you like mine? Finally I got wise and to the next person who asked me if I wanted their autograph, I said, “yes, on a check.” I made off with quite a sum of money. Thanks, Johnny Depp. I’m forever in your debt. Rather, you’re forever in my debt.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.