Where are the dead? In the far reaches of the universe bordering on oblivion. And that’s why I am yelling. Where the hell are you, honey? I need to talk to you. For thirty years when I’d get mad at life not going my way (Shakespeare’s good old ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,’) I would yell and curse at my misfortunes and even at inanimate objects if they didn’t work right and you would say, Stop yelling! at which point I would realize how loud and obnoxious I was being and stop yelling. But I am yelling now because I don’t know where you are except it’s so damn far away I may never be able to talk to you again and there was so much left unsaid and unresolved that I have to keep trying no matter how hopeless it seems. I even asked the Silver Surfer to help in the search. I can’t believe I did that. The Silver Surfer for godsake! I mean, who am I? But he understood my quest because he had suffered the loss of his own soul mate, Dawn.

He reported back to me after a while. I don’t know how long. It was either a very long time or no time at all. He told me he couldn’t find you. It was a huge blow. But I keep trying. I’m like that guy who kept pushing a boulder up a hill and it kept rolling back down. What was his name?* Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind. Do you know any of what’s going on down here, honey, from wherever you are in the far reaches of the universe bordering on oblivion.

*In Homer’s Iliad, Book VI, Sisyphus was forced to roll a huge rock up a hill, but it kept rolling back down and he had to do this over and over forever.

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