All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, undead or slightly unwell, is purely coincidental.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Misfortune Favours The Brave

The rain was pouring. I stared out from the end of the pier at Paralytic-in-the-Wardrobe, the neighbouring town to my home town of Slobbering-under-the-Bed. There was no sea to be seen and nor would there be until erosion, global warming and possibly plate-tectonics had worked their magic. Paralytic was more than 30 miles from the coast, no matter how out of date your sat-nav. Only an English town council could have decided to make the town a fully fledged seaside resort, complete with pier, without the sea.

I was sitting in one of the little covered seats often found on seaside piers wearing my seaside hat. I had a little time to wait, so I sat down with chips wrapped in newspaper and enjoyed a little lunch. There were a variety of stalls this end of the pier. Hot dogs, hamburgers, popcorn, fish and chips, shellfish and jellied eels. Numerology, palmistry and a little place that will give you a certificate with the meaning of your name. I'd tried this one earlier - yes, that's Tunguska. How do I spell it? T-U-N-G-U-S-K-A...

However I was waiting for the fortune tellers stall. It was dressed to look like victorian tent although it was clearly more solid than that. I'd heard this one was very good with a deep insight into the future. I wanted to find out for myself.

I chucked my vinegar soaked newspaper into the bin and with timing of extraordinary luck a woman with a couple of plastic shopping bags walked out of the fortune tellers stall. I walked in.

There was a small lace covered table and a heavily decorated lamp hanging over it. The fortune teller was in the semi-darkness on the other side of the lamp. I couldn't make out his or her face. When he or she spoke the accent was so thick I was still no wiser.

"Take a seat, Mr. No, no, don't tell me."

I sat down.

The androgynous accented voice um'd and ah'd and finally said, "Mr Kissmequick." That's a cracking start I thought.

In the centre of the table was the traditional crystal ball, as made famous on the Wizard of Oz. It glinted wonderfully in the light.


"I can sense you are psychic and other-worldly?"

That made a change from 'bonkers'.

"Hold out your hands"

I held out my hands. The fortune teller took them. He or she had spent some time working on the land - possibly as a plough. Cats tongues have been less rough.

"The dream is within you."

That's nice and enigmatic, I thought. My turn to ask a question, "Are any of my relatives here?"

"I sense the spirit of your granny. She has a surprisingly deep voice for a woman."

"What does she have to say?"

"She said, 'Watch out for a creature which is half red-squirrel and half colossal squid.'"

Now that is good advice. "Anything else?"

"And, 'Would you like a pizza when you stop mucking around in here?'"

I blinked a little at that one. Before I had time to think he or she was off again.

"Stare into the crystal ball and tell me what you see. I can sense more spirits collecting to speak with us this afternoon."

I looked hard into the crystal ball.

"Let your mind go completely blank."

Easy one that.

"Keep an open mind."

If I kept a more open mind, my brains would blow away.

"What do you see?"

"I can see a lace table throw. It's really detailed looking through this ball."

"Get out. Go. Be gone. I curse your next sandwich to be really bland."

12 comments:

  1. called her out with honesty did you? i love it! =)

    by the way, if i were you, i would pass your next sandwich to Roth.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Now there's an idea, although I was going to leave my next sandwich at a public transport cafe.

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  2. Cursed by a gypsy mystic? Hmmm. What sandwich did you get? Brie with white sauce? With extra lard?

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  3. Lovely story dear. I knew a fortune teller once. Long story. Tried to curse me. Drained her blood. Curse wore off. Lack of blood didn't.

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    Replies
    1. Happily introduce you to this one. Tofu sandwich. No thank you.

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  4. Sir, you are a first-rate weirdo with a fascinating imagination. I've added you to my blogroll, just so I can read you more often.

    Oh, by the way? There's a man here who wants to talk to you -- I believe his name starts with an "M" or an "R"...

    Pearl

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. First-rate weirdo. I think I may have been banged to rights there. I prefer to think of myself as an original thinker...

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    2. Banged to rights? Skewered more like.

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  5. At first I thought Pearl had nailed you, but the more I think, "skewered" seems better. Roth

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  6. How was that next sandwich then? Or have you not had a sandwich yet? Best to get those things out of the way instead of waiting until you're really jonesing for one, and then the lack of taste is just upsetting. Best to make an amuse-bouche sandwich, swallow in one tasteless bite, and then follow up with nice, tasty sandwich.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I like the idea of rushing the bland sandwich so I can get on with something with blue cheese in it.

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