That’s right, we’re going out into the social media/viral messaging world to raise money to promote our latest film, GHOST PHONE the movie. Five years in the making. Untold human sacrifices. Pain and suffering. I’m cutting my ear off to get this movie out into the world. We’re planning to launch just a week or two prior to Halloween & the Day of the Dead. We’re developing a phone app called Phone Calls from the Dead which when downloaded will allow you to receive one or two phone calls a day from famous dead people giving you advice on your day. It’s a kind of Ghost Phone Oracle combined with a sort of serendipitous cosmic intervention. That’s right, we live in a manic world, where daily we swing up and down emotional/spiritually/financially. And, now we offer you help! Hope! A chance to communicate with your dead grandma.
Let me just say, GHOST PHONE is based on true events! We’re going to be asking all of you to help us spread the word. Some of you may scoff. May be cynical. But, let me tell you a story of when I was ten years old. I lived on Riverside Drive outside of Battle Creek, Michigan. I was a restless, disturbed youth. A chronic criminal, a near professional shoplifter. My fifth grade teacher, Ms. Hicks, told my mother at the end of my 5th grade year, that she should flunk me, but she didn’t want me back at the school again for another year of torture to her. So, I was passed on to Highland Junior High. I was troubled. I was walking in my sleep a lot. The phone rang late one night. I heard it but no one else in my family did. I got up and wandered through our brick ranch style house and answered the phone. An old, old voice crackled through the wires, “Jeffrey? Jeffreyyy.” I froze in the dark, my hand trembled so hard I could hardly keep the receiver up to my ear. “Yesss?” I stuttered.
“Jeffrey, you’ve got to stop stealing!” It’s hard to admit, but I peed my pajama bottoms as I stood there listening to my dead grandmother calling me from the grave. “If you don’t stop stealing and smoking cigarettes you’re going to end up in prison!”
Out of the darkness over my shoulder a hand reached down and jerked the ghost phone out of my hand. It was my mother. She put the receiver up to her ear and all she heard was a dial tone. I was crying now. She put the phone back down on it’s base and guided me back to my bedroom. “Jeff, you’re walking in your sleep again,” she said gently, not wanting to wake me up. But, I was awake and somewhere deep down I knew my grandma had reached out from the other side to set me straight. And from that night forth I never stole another thing and I’ve yet to end up in prison.