So I am here in L.A. and you know that I have to go visit Marilyn Monroe’s grave. I have never been. I acted all touristy by taking a lot of pictures. I did my left side and then changed it to my half a smile
on my right side a la Paris Hilton. I had to check and remind myself that I WAS at a grave site. So I did my somber look and then I did my far off and away look. I then took pictures of the bench that her fan club had set up. I also gave a looksie on the left where Hugh Hefner will be placed, when his time has come.
I reached out to touch Marilyn’s name on the stone when it occurred to me that the stone felt different, like plastic. I then kind of, don’t get mad, I knocked on the stone. The mother was hollow!
I knocked again. I heard a slight echo. And the grave was not even sealed. You can actually look into the crease of it and see darkness.
Then I started to knock on the other grave on top of it. And it sounded normal, not hollow. Then I knocked on a few more, sounded full to me. And then I went back to Miss M and hollow again.
“Excuse me!”
“What are you doing?”
I jumped and then one of the pennies that were on her name fell off! An older woman was standing behind me looking quite amused.
“Nothing, just making sure everything is all good.”
I knocked again.
“Yep, she is in there. Alrighty, then, let’s go see what Dean Martin is doing.”



















Heartbroken, Lucresia Linton decided to turn to the internet. She believes that if God gives you lemons, then you must order your very rude child to make you a pitcher of lemonade and go find an audience elsewhere!



