My third brief conversation with the ghost of Tony Randall

Me: “So. What do you think, Tony. Is Michael Jackson guilty?”

Ghost of Tony Randall: “How should I know? I’m a ghost. I’m not a mind reader.”


Me: “I realize that. I was just wondering if you had an opinion on the matter –”

Ghost of Tony Randall: “– You know, I am sick and tired of being treated like some otherwordly being with strange, quasi-mystical powers. I am just the same as I ever was. Only dead. And mostly translucent.”

Me: “Fine, sorry. My apologies.”

Ghost of Tony Randall: “– And I don’t need food. Or sleep. Or clothing. Or transportation…”

Me: “Sure –”

Ghost of Tony Randall: “– And I can achieve orgasm simply by thinking about it.”


Ghost of Tony Randall:

Me: “You finished?”

Ghost of Tony Randall: “Yes, sorry about that… Say, I don’t suppose you’d happen to have a cigarette on you, would you…?”*


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