Somewhere Here On Earth

Chapter 4: All The Critics Love U In America

I received a call during the mean of my afternoon by the 'society'. They informed me regarding their scheme that they seemed to have establish during dusk. They conquest for the discovery of my body had just been terminated entirely. I am bemused by this unforeseen project that was so hastily accomplished. It was going to be projected to the public that my family had decided to conclude that my body had been retrieved. I believe this fabrication is quite backwards. I don't know why I was pronounced deceased when my body wasn't found. I suppose the CS has something up their sleeve. I don't bother to dial them once more. They've apprised that they have a idea, so I will coincide with them. I turned my television on to be faced with a very perplexing story. It appeared that my immediate information had been obliterated from the governmental database in my previous habitation. I find such a thing to be terrifying. Where did my information go? It was as if my existence in America was being erased. 

*

I was preparing my daily meal when my awareness was captured by the television once more. It surfaced that my memorial would be taking place at my previous residence, Paisley Park. I have hardly known of any services to proceed so swiftly. I am also disgusted with the society's notion to murder my existence in America; however I will appreciate the newly found privacy. I wished that I would have left some sort of note for my family to read. I believe that it is critical that they know why I have departed from Minnesota. It is far too late now, I now lead a new life in Dubai. The anchor of the newscast notified to the public that my memorial will be held tomorrow. I sighed at the verbiage of the man. My departure will become official within twenty-four hours. I shift my attention back to my meal which had been slightly crisped upon its sides. I devoured it anyhow. I was famished from the night before. Sometimes I forget to eat. It is the final thing on my mind as of always. I am usually too consumed in my musical pursuit to be dabbling with daily necessities. I placed another call to the 'society' to inquire why my memorial arrangements were completed so suddenly. It was stated by their 'representative'  that I only had a few days to leave before the media started to catch on. I questioned the relationship I had built within the society. I was thinking of disbanding; however I wasn't allowed to leave. I was told that once I was inducted into the society that I mustn't disassociate.  How I felt like I entered a cult. I often pondered through the day if my decision was correct. I kicked my cabinet door in agitation and unexpectedly a crimson-colored container collapsed upon my head. I yelped in agony as I gazed down upon the object. It appeared to be a 'First-Aid kit', which seemed like something I needed about now. I opened the kit to find 'Hydrogen Peroxide' for my injury. I then dampened a dishcloth with warm water and placed it there. Today wasn't my best of days.