Strolling along the streets of BumMeQuick (or Umgunquik. Or something), arm in arm, the sun setting, we were a picture of romance… But as lovely as that sounds, it wasn’t enough for me. PALM READER! I screamed as I saw the overpriced gypsy waiting to rid me of my cash. See you later Gareth! I’m off to talk about me for half an hour!
Turned out mystic meg was actually a palm and face reader, much to my excitement. So for $30 I settled down for my reading.
Skeptical Gareth had been allowed in, she obviously didn’t sense his complete disbelief at her abilities, and sat beside me. I wanted him there so he could see how right she could be without even knowing me, and perhaps after this he could be a bit less cynical and a bit more into palm readings and things. Maybe.
Laying my hands in front of her, she got to work.
You like your job…but you sometimes hate it. Good work Sherlock. Carry on.
Sometimes, you are strong for others. Sometimes, you feel weak, she said, looking up at me for approval.
There is something holding you back from reaching your potential at work. You want to achieve great things but you aren’t in the right job yet.
So, I’m 25 and walked in here a bit drunk and therefore assertively – and somehow she’s concluded that I’m not in the right job yet but have the potential to do something– how the devil did she know?
I was beginning to lose faith. I could see Gareth was bored as hell and was already forming his barrage of criticism for when we left. I so didn’t want him to be right, I love this kind of thing, but the woman was ridiculous.
You are worried about one of your parents, she continued.
No, not at all, I replied. They’re alright.
Don’t worry about them. They are okay, and are good for each other, they have a strong relationship.
By this time I couldn’t be bothered to tell her that my parents were in fact no longer an item.
Your hands are telling me you have no faith, she says, looking at me with worry. Well, at least my hands have got something right. Yes, that’s right, the lines on my hands tell no lies – I don’t believe in god.
But, she stutters, where do you think we came from? Evolution, I say proudly.
EVOLUTION? She nearly faints. That’s it, I’ve done it now, I’ve insulted the reader of my future. Does she have the power to change my future too? Will she put a spell on me?
No. Instead she boots me out after five minutes of a reading, ushering words about how I have to find faith to find my way. As we shuffle out I, for the first time, see all the god paraphernalia adorning her walls. Whoops. Insulted the palm reader. Good job.
But you haven’t even looked at my face yet! I exclaimed as she began to pack away hurriedly.
You have a strong jaw line, she dismisses, clearly done with me. I didn’t think to ask for money money back, I just skedaddled, my tail between my legs.
Gareth just smiled. He didn’t have to say ‘you see, Kim? It’s all a load of rubbish and I told you it was and you just wasted $30 on it.’ He didn’t have to. His smile said it all.
"The composition of my soul is made, too great for servile, avaricious trade.
When raving in the lunacy of ink, I catch my pen and publish what I think."
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