Carta Póstuma A Elena Francis

Dear madam: I'm desperate. I live in a purgatory. I'm a lost soul since you closed the office. My heart has failed you or you've simply decided it's time to shut down the radio and make us wake up without an instructor. Dear Mrs. Francis: How will we keep the cannelloni from sticking? How will we know if that boy has good intentions? Who will keep us company, us lonely hearts? Who will explain how to remove coffee stains? Who will give us instructions to defend ourselves against acne? With time and a beer, we'll surely recover and start to believe it, but today, who will clarify our rights and duties? The doctors and priests will be overloaded with work and the crystal balls, palm readers, and card readers will come to replace you. Dear Mrs. Francis: I'm shattered. I don't understand how you can do this to us. Our relationship has been a lifetime and we can't say goodbye like this, in a French way. Please make sure to explain to these good people how to dress for your funeral.