Giving Up the Ghost With Gabrielle Ghostly: All Your Supernatural Questions Answered
Dear Gabby:
This guy I'm seeing only has eyes for me. He keeps them in a jar of formaldehyde. Should I be concerned or is this true love?
Signed: Eyeless in Eerie
Dear Eyeless:
I'd be planning an exit strategy before another jar of body parts shows up.
* * *
Dear Gabby:
Elvis lives in my fridge. What should I do?
Signed: All Shook Up in Sarasota
Dear All Shook Up:
It's now or never. Put on your blue suede shoes and charge admission to see your good luck charm.
* * *
Dear Gabby:
My mother lost her full-time job a few months ago and took up zombie hunting to give herself something to do. But when she started winning cooking contests with a new secret recipe she calls "Fried Zombie Dee-light," I started wondering what she's been doing with all those zombies she's dispatched. Should I confront her about it or just keep mum?
Signed: Southern Fried in Alabama
Dear Southern Fried:
You Southerners will deep fry anything. I suggest you keep mum and let your mother enjoy her hobbies. Unless the health department intervenes, your mother's secret recipe should stay secret.
* * *
Dear Gabby:
I'm dating a vampire. I want to get married but when I bring up the subject she says she'll still be young and beautiful when I'm old and senile, and she'd rather just put the bite on me now while I'm still in my prime. What do you think? Do I have bats in my belfry or does love just suck?
Signed: Love Bites in Louisiana
Dear Love Bites:
Love sucks, but vampires suck more. Let this one go and move on to someone a little less immortal than you.
* * *
Dear Gabby:
My husband and I have the perfect marriage by all appearances. But there are a couple of things that bother me. First, he's been married before, but he won't talk about his ex-wives. And second, he has a locked closet he won't let me see. Should I sneak a peek when he's gone (I know where he keeps the key) or should I just respect his privacy on these two matters?
Signed: Blue in Britain
Dear Blue:
Curiosity killed the cat. Run like hell and never look back. Chalk it up into dodging a bullet...or a decapitation.
* * *
Dear Gabby:
My girlfriend is a dog. Literally. During the Full Moon she turns into a real bitch--an Irish Wolfhound--and slobbers all over me and jumps on the bed and pees on the newspaper. Should I dump her or learn to live in the doghouse.
Signed: Dog Days in Dakota
Dear Dog Days:
Bury the bone and learn to love it doggy style.
* * *
Keep your missives coming to the Dead Letter Office. This ghost writer is working the graveyard shift to answer all of your supernatural inquiries! Until next time...have a hell of a week!