Dear Dead Elvis,
The Winkies were my slaves. After I melted they set themselves free, later to be happily ruled by the Tin Woodman. Glinda told him he was actually brighter than the Scarecrow--when he was well polished. That Scarecrow...don't even get me started! Of course, after he got his brains he was happy enough ruling the Emerald City.
I got out just in time! Politics. What a mess it would have been if I'd stayed. So I left.
You can imagine for yourself what it's like to melted by plain water like so much sugar or salt. I was actually made of these things--you know, sugar and spice and everything nice--it's just that I'd lived so long that nice was what I was not. Not ever, not in those later years. "Nice" is too sticky, it picks up a lot of dust.
So I drifted. There was nothing left of me, and that was wonderful and very refreshing. So much lighter than earth, water, air, or even fire, although I may have crackled a little like lightning as I passed through the universe. Anywhere I cared to go, I went, and when I wished to stop--I stopped. I settled.
The first place I settled was on a tiny sunspot. I rested and let myself be comforted by the warmth and energy of plain, basic hydrogen. You should try it sometime. Perhaps you have! If so, you know it comes well recommended.
But what, you may be thinking, does any of this have to do with the Celebrity Protection Program? Isn't it concerned with giving famous people a well-deserved break by allowing them to fake their own deaths?
You tell me. I mean, you can fake all the deaths you want if that's your gig, especially since death itself is the biggest fake going. You know, as in going...going...gone...
Huh? Oh right. Gone where? Where is there to go? Well, I guess anywhere, anywhere at all, or nowhere, or everywhere, it all depends. I do, however, recommend sunspots as a nice first stop.
Uh oh, nice. There's that word again. That one will truly get me going, so I better stop here, for now. The universe is a nice place--but watch out for all the dust!