Lex Luthor, The President Of The United States

So when I was little (probably 4 or 5 years ago actually) my brother and I would still wake up to see Saturday Morning Cartoons. We watched the WB, and they had all kinds of good shows going on. We watched Pokemon, Recess, a few others and one show called "The Batman." I remember my brother would always get scared by The Batmans intro. I set out on a little journey to find the intro. It took forever, because they only used that theme for one season, and there were very few "The Batman" videos. Anyway, I did find it, and the part that used to scare my little brother was at the very end of the introduction when someone (I assume Alfred, I could be wrong) whispers, "The Batman." The wikipedia page for this cartoon is rather amusing.

Now, I'm going to go on a little rant. Actually two different rants.

First is a complaint about people that you have to explain every little thing to. I know I definitely couldn't be a teacher, because it drives me crazy when you have to explain the simplest things to someone. I really hate it when you delegate tasks, because they can't figure it out on their own, and they still can't figure out what the heck they're supposed to do. COME ON! THE INSTRUCTIONS ARE RIGHT THERE? IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND???

Next, I believe it is time for my annual Christmas rant. Christmas, or rather Christmas season doesn't start until December first. I know this sounds mean and horrible, but I really hate the salvation army workers. They stand outside and ring their little bells, and it drives me insane, especially when they're trying to get money because its the "season for giving", but thanksgiving hasn't even come yet. Hello? Can we please have one giving before the other? I mean seriously, why does Christmas seem to get earlier every single year? The only good part about the Christmas spirit is the white chocolate peppermint mocha at Starbucks.... Oh they are my love.

Thanksgiving is a much better holiday anyway. I mean, you get to sleep in, cook all day, not have to cook for a week after that, and you don't have to worry about buying anyone presents. I'm not too crazy about the whole turkey thing (as my family knows) since I'm a vegetarian. I would much rather thank good rains for good vegetables than a turkey that someone had to kill. It doesn't even taste that good anyway...

On a completely different note, I think its very odd, how in Home Depot, people are always bringing in their dogs. I'll upload a picture of the sign on the outside of the store sometime, but it says quite straightforwardly, No Pets! The odd thing I've noticed however, is that it doesn't matter if you're in Lowes. No one brings their dog into a Lowes. Instead, it is only in Home Depot. Maybe Lowes actually enforces their policy. I have no idea though, it's just really weird.

HAHA XOXO

There Is No Charge For Awesomeness.... Or Attractiveness

That is probably the first movie quote I've used that anyone is even going to understand. Yes, believe it or not, I have been using quotes from people/movies/books the whole time. So, now you know I'm not crazy. At least not that crazy.



I wanted to comment this blog on the stupidity of teenage girl magazines. No matter what magazine you're reading; whether its girls life, seventeen, cosmogirl, tigerbeat, etc, they all have the same idiotic things. Let's talk for a minute about the front cover. It always has some ridiculous number of random things that that particular issue has. For example, a magazine I got recently had this on the cover "Look pretty at every party! Hot holiday beauty and fashion for less (yeah, they always mention how cheap it is too, even when the clothes are hundreds of dollars), try-them-tonight hair ideas, Plus 236 ways to shine." What the heck? 236? and those aren't in order of course, they just threw in a random number of things that they think they have in the magazine. I'm pretty sure this trend of random numbers came from seventeen magazine.

The fashion advice in these magazines is something else altogether. In the magazine I mentioned earlier thers this picture of a girl wearing a red and darker red striped hoody underneath a pink poofy dress, with this gigantic necklace in the shape of two eighth notes. This one was just one of those, "Was the style advisor a blind old woman who thinks she's sixteen?" They're always that hideous too. I don't know why I keep buying the magazines.



That's a lie, I do know why I keep buying them. They give me something to do, and there is an undeniable amount of excitement in getting something that you look forward to in the mail.

The other day I was really bored (okay I wasn't bored, I was procrastinating an assignment) and so just for fun I went to Harvard University's website. I don't know how they can expect anyone to find anything on it. Maybe, and I think this is how it is, the school uses it as a test to see if you really are smart enough to go to Harvard. They say to themselves, "Well, if s/he is smart enough to find their way to the application part of our site they must be really serious about this. Or they have a lot of time on their hands." I wonder if other schools websites are any easier to understand. I'll have to check up on this sometime.

I thought I would end this with a little quote from the back of an orbit gum box: "The ADA Council on Scientific Affairs' Acceptance of Orbit is based on its finding that the physical action of chewing Orbit sugar-free gum for 20 minutes after eating, stimulates saliva flow, which helps to prevent cavities by reducing plaque acids and strengthening teeth."

Whew, that is one heck of a run on sentence!

HAHA XOXO

And What Size Was That?

I was in Starbucks the other day, and so I walk up to the cashier guy. My dad orders his coffee (a venti salted chocolate triple shot latte or something. It sounds gross but he swears it's good. I'm not sure I believe him), and then I order mine. I said, quite clearly, "I would like a tall caramel macchiato." The guy looks up from the cash register and says, "what size would you like?" and I say... "...tall...." My dad and I can barely keep from laughing. Wow... seriously how ignorant can you be? There was also this hobo that is living there right now, and I'm on the verge of killing him because he stinks and just sits there all the time. It's like, go get a job, and take a shower. Go get a job fixing showers! He makes the place quite untolerable.

So anyway, I went in Starbucks again the next day, and my dad orders his coffee again, with now trouble. Then when it is my turn I tell the same guy as the day before "I would like a tall decaf white chocolate mocha" and this greasy haired kid didn't disappoint. He promptly asked, "What size is that?" My dad hurriedly picked up a CD and pretended to scrutinize it. "Tall," I blurted then promptly walked away.

I don't know if he can't hear the word "Tall" or if it's his trick of getting customers to go up a cup size, but I think it is rather odd. I was saying it quite clearly. I don't understand it: Very weird...

This is kind of random, but I finally got around to playing LEGO Batman again, and I finally unlocked Harley Quinn. Isn't she cute in LEGO form? (see my picture...) The Joker comes with his very own hand buzzer, and I was the only one in my family to find it quite comical. I guess I'm kind of crazy that way.

Does the Joker's laughing gas kill by suffocation or laughing to death? I think you suffocate but I'm not sure. I am sure however, that I don't really want to find out.

The first song in my updated playlist, is corynorhinus (not anymore, I changed it to the last song because it's a horrible recording. But you can listen if you want), which I am learning how to play. I'm also learning how to play the next track, Harvey Two Face, but it's kind of different. It's really annoying that pianos get all the books written for them. Harvey Two Face is rather confusing because half of it is in bass clef and I can only read treble, so I have to decode it and write the notes over the top. Then there are the cello parts that are too low for me to play, so I miss a note here and there, and it sounds pretty terrible.

I'm really upset at playlist.com for not getting Kung Fu Panda on their list yet. That is an amazing soundtrack. If you have the movie, listen to the music when Tai Lung escapes. WOW.


In the fashion world, the clothes do not make the man. The man makes the clothes.

HAHA XOXO

Jonathon Crane, Psychologist Turned Psychopath

That's how they always introduce Scarecrow in comic books. I think it's funny. Anyway, I've been working on making this Joker sim for a little while (okay three weeks) but today I did a search and I found this. I know you are lame and haven't seen the movie yet Kati, but look at that! Holy crap! Seriously, they even got the scars in there!

Also, my Dark Knight solo book finally came! yay!


Woot for presidents

HAHA XOXO

I Never Liked You Ivy, But You're GROWING ON ME!

Guess what? I'm supposed to be at school right now. I'm not because I'm sick *cough cough.* No really though, I have (in Kathryn's words) "Death Virus." I would go into it, but I'm not going to.

Anyway, my meow meow (cat) is asleep next to me. I'm kind of delirious, so just for fun I'm going to tell the story of how we found my cat. My mom was driving home from work and thought that she had hit a cat because she kept hearing this meowing, and then when she got home she lifted up the hood of her car and there was my kitty! She was just a little kitten then, and was all fluffy and orange and adorable. I named her Peter Rabbit since Peter Rabbit was my favorite... person. The funny thing is, Peter is actually a girl. Apparently it's very unusual to have a girl cat that is orange, so whenever we go to the vet they say "We're ready for him," and I say, "Actually, she's a girl." then they apologize and say that that was what they thought but since she was orange they figured they were remembering wrong. Yeah, whatever. Anyway, she's my best friend. Seriously.

I have made a resolution to use my planner better this year. We'll see if it actually works.
Alright, a little bit of a rant here. Whose bright idea was it to make a planner that has colored pages? You can't see half the stuff you write down, it is sooo annoying! I much prefer the white pages that are boring. I also kind of miss the hole punches, but I would definitely prefer not having hole punches instead of not having blank pages. I'm not sure if that last sentence made sense.

Every time I type something in this blogger window, even if I hit the space button, the cursor stays right next to the last letter I typed, which is very confusing, because I hit the space bar subconsciously.

Almost all of my Halloween candy is gone now. Isn't that sad? Okay, maybe not all of it, but at least half. That's pretty gross to eat that much sugar, but I guess that's how it goes down every year.


For the first time in Honors English, I'm having a difficult time getting to 500ish words.

I guess I'll talk about our chat with the Joker. (Ha ha, wouldn't it have been funny if he kissed you? You would have had to make it really awkward for him and been like, "Yep, I had a dream that that happened") Inside joke. Anyway, we were at frightmares and in one of the haunted houses (a clown themed one of course) there was a Joker, who had the wrong socks, and also got his vest from Hot Topic. He had the wrong socks however, and I totally want to get those from Hot Topic. They're just sweet socks. We had a very nice conversation with him, until they made us leave. I would still date the Joker. Totally.

Hey Kati, check it!


HAHA XOXO

Okay... Story Time Kiddies!

So, hopefully this makes sense. It's kind of long. Here goes...

I was supposed to put something else on this blog but I can't remember what it was now... oh well, if I remember I'll just edit this out...

okay i figured out what it was! this! (if you're still reading the count of monte cristo and don't want any spoilers, don't really zoom up too close, you can get the idea from far away)


Also, liking soundtracks is just as bizarre as liking musicals. It's pretty much the same thing anyway.


A HELPING HAND (this title took forever to come up with, so I finally decided on it at midnight. Thats why it's kind of weird)

Amber opened her eyes. She was achy and stiff, as though she had been sleeping a long time. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light she sat up and looked around. She was in her bedroom, but something was different. Jumping to her feet, she realized that her bed was made and her room was spotless. She rushed down the stairs to see her mother. “Mom!” she exclaimed, “Where have you put my things?”
Her mother ignored her and left the room. Amber was in shock. She must have done something really horrible to have her mother ignore her like that. Her mother had always been the one person she could talk to about anything. Why couldn’t she remember what she did? She walked into her kitchen where her father, a cake decorator, made his creations. He was known for miles around for his amazing cakes. Not only did they look amazing, they tasted amazing too, a feature not commonly found in many wedding cakes.
“Dad? Do you know what I did to make Mom so angry?” Amber asked, not sure she really wanted to hear the answer. His eyes were sad. It reminded her of the time she ate handfuls of one of his best, most expensive cakes, two hours before a wedding when she was eight years old. Only then did she notice the cake sitting on the table. Instead of one of his usual masterpieces it looked thrown together and messy. She looked up at her dad and asked what was wrong. His cakes never looked this bad before.
What was going on? Why wouldn’t anyone talk to her? She sat down on the couch, confused and frustrated by the joke she believed her parents were playing on her. Misery was setting in when the phone rang.
“Can you get that?” her father asked.
“Of course!” Amber nearly shouted, jumping up to get the phone. She reached for the phone, but it appeared her mother beat her to it. Curious as to whom it was, Amber looked at the caller ID. Johnson’s Mortuary. “Why is Fred Johnson calling us?” she wondered aloud. She realized one of her grandparents must have died. Her grandmother was ninety years old, and seemed to live a little less each day.
The doorbell rang. “Can you get that?” Amber’s father called again. “I told you I would,” Amber called back to him. She reached for the door and turned the knob. Funny, she must have missed, since the door did not open.
“Since you can’t seem to move, I’ll get it,” her mother called crossly, still on the phone. Amber stepped aside to let her mother open the door. She felt ashamed now. Her mother seemed so angry and upset, and Amber couldn’t even remember what it was she had done. She slunk away, staying only long enough to see who was at the door. Both sets of grandparents were there, even Grandma Pearl, the ninety-year-old.
“Thank you very much Fred. I’m so happy to hear that,” her mother said into the phone. “We’ll see you later then. Okay, bye.” Her mother hung up the handset and looked at her parents and in-laws. “They confirmed the body. It is definitely her. They think she must have drowned in the lake. I just can’t figure out why she wasn’t wearing a life-vest. I thought we taught her better than that,” her mother concluded, looking down, tears again filling her eyes, as they had several times while on the phone.
“WHO DIED?” Amber practically screamed. She was sick of everyone ignoring her, and wanted the joke to end. In her anger she hit the bookshelf was behind her, and toppled over a few books. Everyone looked up at the sudden noise and gazed at the book on the ground. From the kitchen her father asked, “What was that?”
She felt so embarrassed now, with her grandparents and mother all witnessing her blunder. Amber bent to pick up the books. Again it seemed like she missed.
“I don’t know. This book just flew off the bookshelf, all by itself,” her mother returned, picking up the books that fell to the wood flooring below. She turned shakily to the elderly people in the house, and said, “The funeral for Amber is tomorrow at nine. I hope you can all be there. “
“Of course,” Grandma Pearl returned. “Only I never thought I would have to see her buried before I was.” Amber’s breath quickened. She wasn’t dead! She was right here, alive and well! She ran to the calendar. April 1st was the date. She sighed. It was only an April fool’s joke. “Ha ha. I get it now,” she told the congregation in the living room. No one looked up. Amber went back to her room.

A little while later, after having cooled off and relaxed a bit, Amber went back downstairs. Her family was in the dining room now, excluding her father, who was watching TV. “Dad?” she sadly called again. He did not turn to look at her. She sighed and went to her parent’s room. There she saw a letter on the bed. It concerned the purchase of a headstone and the rental of a funeral parlor. “Maybe… maybe I really AM dead…” she whispered, hardly believing her own voice.
Thinking herself crazy, she went back to her father and jumped in front of the television set. His gaze never moved, instead, it stared into the TV the same way it was before. Amber screamed. No reaction. Panic seized her. She was so frightened she couldn’t move from her place in front of the set. She was light headed and dizzy, and worst of all, her insides were begging to be on the outside. “Oh, please let this be a joke,” she moaned, her step faltering. She sat down on the couch next to her father, making no impression on the couch. He was watching “Most Haunted” a television show investigating paranormal activities in old castles and inns.
“I feel a strong presence here. There is definitely paranormal activity.”
THUMP
“Oh my… did you hear that? It was definitely a ghost. Let’s see if we can communicate with it.”
“Ghosts ordinarily die violent deaths or are murdered, and can be themselves rather violent. Roger must be careful of what he asks”
“What are you watching?” Her mother asked.
“Oh my! Did you see that go by? Do we have playback on that?”
“Most Haunted,” they both replied, but only one voice was heard. Grandma Pearl entered the room. “Maybe… maybe we should see if we can communicate with her! You know… with a Ouija board, like they do on those ghost shows!” Her mother looked reluctant, for she is easily frightened, but the world famous cake decorator agreed.
The family produced a makeshift Ouija board, and Amber remembered the door she couldn’t open, and the phone she couldn’t pick up. How in the world was she going to move the piece on the Ouija board?
“Spirits in this room, please try to communicate with us.”
All hands were on the board. Amber stepped cautiously forward, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to move anything. She gingerly placed her hands on the piece, and tapped it forward. Everyone gasped, including her. She couldn’t believe she had done it!
“What is your name spirit?”
She again put her hands on the small triangle and moved it to the A… then the M… and so on, until she spelled out AMBER. Her mother paled and her father looked ill. He asked a new question, “How did you die?”
Amber didn’t know. She pushed the piece again. I-D-O-N-T-K-N-O-W she spelled out. Y-O-U-T-E-L-L-M-E. Now that everyone in her family was ready to faint, her grandmother said calmly “You drowned in the lake Amber.” Amber pushed a last time: I-D-O-N-O-T-S-E-E-H-O-W-I-D-I-E-D. Her mother pulled her hands away. Amber wanted to comfort her, and tell her it was okay, but when she tried to move the piece again, she seemed to go through it.
How could she have drowned in the lake? She was a wonderful swimmer; she was even a lifeguard at the local pool. Why couldn’t she remember her own death? She walked into her mother’s room, where, after the completion of the Ouija board her mother fainted. Amber looked into the mirror. Her hair was at her shoulders, parted on the side, and she looked the same as she remembered. She was only sixteen, but spent a considerable amount of time at the beach tanning. To her dismay, she looked rather pale, almost… translucent. Her clothes were that of a teenage girl: She wore jeans and a T-shirt.
While contemplating her image, Amber’s poor mother awoke, and a look of horror laid claim to her face. Amber looked back, frightened of her mother’s appearance. “I must be visible in the mirror!” she thought to herself, once more recalling the hours of TV she wasted learning about ghosts. She ran out of the room in a panic, passing through her father as she went. Her mother was howling.
“What? What happened?” Her father asked, worry clouding his brow.
Only muffled cries came from her mother.
“Please, Eleanor, you have to tell me what happened!”
“Amber was here!”
“Amber?”
“Of course it was her!” she wailed, “I should have known this would happen with your stupid grandmother’s idea!”
Her father, now on the defensive, seemed hurt by this, and sat down in a chair as if to say to the crazed woman “I don’t care what happens to you; I’ve been through too much myself.”
During her parents’ Amber herself had been crying. She heard the silence coming from the other room. She tried to be as quiet as possible for it seemed that in the television shows ghosts footsteps and sobs were always the first to be heard.
Amber finally realized two things: She needed to get out of the house, and she had to find “the light.” Again she tried to leave from the front door but found that she could not open the doorknob. Perhaps she merely needed to go through it, as she had done to her father.
Closing her eyes, Amber stepped into the door. She opened her eyes, expecting to be outside on her lawn, but found her nose pressed firmly against the door. Next she tried a running start, and, to her surprise, passed through the door with ease.
It was late at night, and, had Amber been alive, she would have been exhausted. The first thing she did was go the cemetery, which was rumored to be haunted. Praying that she would finally meet someone who could talk to her, she walked through the gate and to the nearest grave. The cemetery was “empty.” Disappointed, she uttered a low groan, which was cut off by something moving in the bushes. It was a fox which gazed at her with interest. On a whim, she approached it and stroked its soft head. It made a small “yipe” and its four kits came out of the bushes. All gazing at her, they began to whine, and the mother fox looked at Amber as if to say, “They are hungry. I have to go.”
Convinced that she could not see the other dead, Amber decided to make her way to the lake where she drowned. The bus was about to pass by, and only one girl was at a bus stop nearby. She ran to catch up with it and ran through the door, a skill which, by now, mastered. The bus pulled past the lake a little while later, and Amber jumped through the bus. She gazed upon the lake, and suddenly, she remembered how she had died.

It had been a long evening with her friends, and one of Amber’s closest friends, Paul, invited a bunch of the sophomores to go swimming. Her friends readily agreed, and Amber, although not wanting to make her parents mad, also agreed: although it required her to stay out after curfew. She met with Paul before the others arrived, and she could smell beer on his breath. She had never seen him drunk before, and this was rather surprising. He was the son of the Deputy Sherriff, and often appeared at events protesting the use of drugs and alcohol by teens; even if used medically. He was also the chief spokesperson for setting up an Alcoholics Anonymous for their area.
He slid into the cold water and asked Amber to follow. Worried that he might hurt himself, Amber consented, knowing she could save him if he started to drown.
“How long’ve you been talkin’ ta Michael?” he asked, slurring his words.
“I fail to see why it matters,” Amber stated, hoping that her friends would come along soon.
To Amber’s amazement, she found that she was watching her own death. Her last few moments were here, and she was now her death was being played back to her. She realized that she could move around the scene to get an optimal view, and she could also see where her friends were. They had deserted her, deciding instead to go to a popular senior’s party.
“Ya know, up ‘till a lil’ bit ago, I thought chou waza real friend,” Paul muttered, almost to himself. “But then ya go ‘n mess it all up fer usss.” He climbed out of the water and groped his way to his clothes. Amber started to follow but was stopped by “Don’t move.” She did as commanded and was beginning to get more and more frightened. Since he was drunk he probably wasn’t thinking straight and could be dangerous. She tried to think of a way to reach her cell phone, but he blocked her path.
By this point, Amber could not help but utter a cry. She could no longer support herself and fell back against a tree. She wished that she could stop watching the horrible scene, but it seemed that once it began, it could not be stopped.
A look of pure hatred crossed Paul’s face and he said simply, “I was going to ask you to the dance. I changed my mind.” With this he plunged into the water, and held Amber’s head down. She screamed once, but was consumed by the water.
Amber shut her eyes. It was too horrible. No one should see their own death, and as though she might pass out, she turned away. The splashing soon ended and Amber turned to see Paul getting out of the lake. He left his empty beer cans there, and stumbled up the path to the road, where he promptly fell asleep. Time seemed to speed up by this point, for Paul had been asleep for only a few minutes, but it was now daylight and he was waking up. She saw Paul’s father pick him up, and no police report was never filed, nor had anyone ever known he was drunk.
The scene died away, and again Amber was left alone at the foot of the lake where her tragedy took place.
A feeling of hatred grew in Amber’s heart. She knew she had to avenge her death; to cause him pain for what he caused her family, but what could she do? The feeling of revenge died away as dread replaced it. As she was thinking about this, a scrawny looking dog walked by her, eyed her curiously much like the foxes she met earlier, and went looking around in the fallen leaves to find something to eat. Amber heard glass tinkle and looked in the direction of the dog.
There, next to her clothes and one of Paul’s socks, were six bottles of beer. She knew what she needed to do, and scooping the dog into her arms (which she previously thought she was permanently unable to do) she began walking home, the semi-transparent dog in her arms.

Amber’s mother woke up the next day to the howling of a dog. She looked out of her window and saw the poor shivering animal rooting around in their garbage. Her mother was a strict vegetarian for 20 years now, and was an avid animal rights advocate. She took pity on the poor animal (which she often did considering they owned multiple cats and a dog) and went outside to see him. She could find no tags, and was determined to take him to the no-kill center in their area, since he was an adorable puppy, and would likely be adopted soon. She bent down to pick him up.
“Come on girl,” Amber called, beckoning the dog to come towards her. She had spent the night training her to come on her command, and for some unexplainable reason she did exactly what she asked.
Her mother walked after the dog, and then realized it would be too hard to catch on foot. She ran inside the house and got her keys, calling to Amber’s father to join her in the chase. They arrived outside in time to see the dog jumping onto a bus.
“Did you see that?” Her father asked incredulously. “I can’t believe the bus driver would let him get on like that!”
“Maybe they allow it now…” her mother responded, starting the car to begin their pursuit of the bus.
The truth was, Amber had picked up the dog as the bus was beginning to stop, and, as she learned the night before, the dog also became invisible.
The bus stopped at the cursed lake, and Amber and the dog jumped through the bus.
“There it is!” her mother shouted, pulling to the side and jumping out of the car.
“It’s headed for the base of the lake.”
“What is it doing? It’s digging in that little patch right there. What is that? Oh my goodness…”
“Th-that is Amber’s jacket!”
“Was she drinking?” Her mother asked aloud, holding up one of the bottles.
Her dad held up Paul’s sock. “This isn’t hers.”
Her mother pulled out her cell phone and called the police.
“Thank you Sherriff, I’m sure this has something to do with her murder. There are some bottles here, can we get DNA information from them?” she hung up the phone.
“He said he’s coming.” For the first time in a week her mother smiled. “I believe this little dog just solved our case.”

A little while later, the forensics team was on the scene, and helped identify Paul as the killer. He was arrested the next day, and could enjoy the rest of his life to think about what he had done. He would be spending his high school career in a room with bars instead of bricks.
Amber’s parents adopted the little dog they said “led them to the clues.” They named the little yorkie “Amber.”
“For some reason,” Her mother said, stroking the dog she now held in her hands, “It seems as if Amber got us to come here.”
“Now she can finally be happy and move on without any troubles,” her father agreed.
With that, Amber expected to see rays of light coming down from nowhere and everywhere at once. She closed her eyes, ready to finally move on. When she opened them again, the scene was the same. Confused, Amber went back to the cemetery, this time to view her own grave - she was rather curious to see what it looked like. She knelt down in the rectangular box of new grass next to her headstone, and felt terribly empty. She worked so hard to pass on but it seemed like that was not the plan.
When Amber finally looked up, she saw a girl about her own age, with long flowing hair and a pale face, wearing a beautiful Victorian dress; she did not look happy. Surprisingly, Amber was not afraid. The girl smiled and when Amber turned around, hundreds of people were in the cemetery, wearing clothing from all eras. A young boy stepped forward and said nonchalantly, “Welcome to the afterlife.” The girl, who introduced herself as Victoria, told Amber, “You have done everything required of you in order to see us. Now, for your patient perseverance, we will reward you. You see, we are the supreme beings, for we do not need sleep or sustenance, and we alone can help you avenge your wrongful death. You can now make a choice, and although you have eternity to make up your mind, your acquaintance Paul may not last that long.”
Victoria smiled a sinister smile. “You are with friends here, and we are the dealers of justice. We are willing to help you if you want it.” Amber took Victoria’s outstretched hand and shook it. “I agree,” Amber replied, and, turning to the congregation of ghosts, said calmly, “Let’s not lose a moment.”