An Interview with the Late Michael Jackson

By Danielle Olson

April 2011

Hello my darling, faithful readers. As you may know, I have a reputation for dealing with dark forces, and I sometimes get into strange and scary situations. One of the most macabre episodes of my career was when I was contacted by Michael Jackson. The decomposing king of pop had already been dead for quite some time. He was decaying and gross, but still managed to remain a little edgy. There was a presence there: a creepy and perverted presence.

Many people have trouble dealing with death. Most of them just fall into it naturally, but sometimes there is resistance. Some people are so self-deluded that reality is hard to accept. People of Michael's stature are the most difficult cases. Many times, famous people don't have a close friend who would tell them a painful truth. Michael was surrounded by total suck-ups, so that nobody would tell him that he was dead.

Not too long after he passed away, the madness started. I kept getting strange messages from unlikely messengers. First it was his pet rat that tried to show me where he was. I followed the little scamp for hours, but he was always running here and there. I was trying to keep up, yelling "Slow down Ben," but in an inner-city alley, just after the mouse sped around a dark corner, I heard an ominous snap. It was a trap!

Finally, several weeks later, a mute and pale limo driver showed up at my place to take me for a ride. Zooming along at ungodly speed, we shot through the slums until finally stopping at a secret location. The dilapidated urban slum might have been the location for his famous music video, Thriller. The only difference was that the sidewalks didn't light up when you walked on them.

It was dark and I didn't know where I was. We had been travelling for hours. The driver refused to talk. He helped me out of the car and beckoned me hence, pointing to a broken door that was off of its hinges. The building looked empty and derelict, but I went in anyway.

I walked in toward a dim light. The broken-down building smelled of decaying flesh. I had to stop and keep still until I felt like my senses could cope with these awful odors. After a few minutes I followed the driver into a plain room with plaster walls. There was no sign of an oxygen tent or an IV stand. It was just an ugly candle-lit room with a worn-out kitchen table and chairs. Michael sat in deep shadow.

He slowly leaned forward until the faint light shown flickering on his cracking face. "Hello Danielle. I'm glad you could make it." I couldn't hear him breathe. The only sound was from water dripping out of leaky pipes.

I don't know how Michael had heard of me. I'm not famous, but I will admit that he wasn't the first dead person I've had dealings with.

Death had not been kind. His beautiful, brown skin that had been so much pampered in life was in a severe state of decomposition.

"I just have to stay hidden so my fans don't see."

"What has happened to you, Michael?"

He grimaced. "I have a condition. I'm going to get better."

"What did your doctor say?"

He ignored my question. "I know I look terrible. I can't even look in the mirror anymore. We'll find a cure; I know we'll find a cure." He was crying, but had no tears. "I've got a man coming in from Cuba."

I didn't know if I should tell him the truth, but at this point, I couldn't really think. He had things living inside him.

"Michael, there's a worm crawling out of your skull."

"Oh. His name is Bubbles, Jr."

"Does your family know where you are?"

"No! No! No! I just couldn't face them." His voice was thin and whiny.

He slumped back into the shadows and I was grateful that I couldn't see him. "What do you want me to do for you?"

Then we got down to business.

I'm not giving any more details at this time. I swore not to.

We said our goodbyes and I made my way back to the land of the living.

~ * end * ~

Other articles by Danielle Olson - Ex-Governor