Advisory: This Blog Entry is submitted as satire, and as such, should be treated with great care to avoid becoming overly agitated or confused.
Good morning, Netizens...
I came slowly into the Virtual Ballroom before dawn. Yesterday I had been kept busier than I had originally expected to be, since a bad case of the Catastrophic Hiccups had stricken one of my clients, and I had labored long and late into the night, but I was delighted to be home once again. As I slid into my familiar bar stool, our barrista of the day, a svelte-looking Frenchman named Montrero D'Arte, slid a cup of Virtual Espresso of the day, Chocolat de camaraderie décadent, in front of me with a knowing wink.
“'Ees been waiting for you impatiently all day, Monsieur,” he said, casting his eyes in the direction of a rather pithy-looking imp of a ghost hovering completely by himself, near the end of the bar. From my vantage point he appeared to be wearing a huge Stetson hat, and wearing cowboy boots, something we do not see every day in the Ballroom. Montrero paused, nervously casting his eye about the Virtual Ballroom, and licking his lips, added in a half-whisper, “'E says he can speak only to you.”
After the word bombs of the previous few days and being called a few names, I sat for a moment wondering what this could possibly be about. From where I sat, I could see where, despite the early hour of the morning, some of the more energetic ghosts were gliding about the Ballroom, cleaning up small bits of debris and detritus from in front of the stage where it appeared a contentious debate had taken place last evening. Others were hauling plastic trash bags outside, no doubt heading for the Virtual Incinerator in the alley behind the Ballroom. Most of the regular patrons of the Ballroom were sitting in groups at tables in front of and beside the Virtual Espresso Stand, talking quietly among themselves. One sip of the espresso of the day, however, and I immediately felt at one with the entire world, which may be why everyone seemed so at Peace throughout the Ballroom.
“Sure,” I said, taking another appreciative sip of the daily blend, grateful that JeanieSpokane and several ghosts had conceived of it yesterday in my absence. “Let's see what this is about. This is an excellent daily blend, by the way. Sure, send him over.”