The Fortuneteller

This week I ran afoul of the gypsy fortuneteller Madame Pumpkinwrinkle. She crossed my path and gave me the eye.

I, of course, immediately gave it back, and she popped the glass eye back into her right eye socket.

“You shud be seeing wot I am seeing, you silly, seely man.”

“Why? What are you seeing?”

“Your future is weary grave. You needs to be gibbing me ein nickel, und I weel tell you ov it.”

Well, I don’t credit her prophesying ability any more than the Trojans credited Cassandra. But I had a nickel in my pocket. So, I thought, “What the heck! Why not?”

She took the nickel and handed me the eye again.

“Yeck! I don’t want this!”

“I will look into your mind. Hold it up to the ear so I can see in.”

I held it up to my ear.

“What do you see?”

“Light from the udder side.”

“Somehow I knew that is what you would say.”

“I see many grave tings.”

“Like what?”

“Trumpy is elected again 2020. You is gedding so mad that you is having a strobe.”

“You mean a stroke?”

:”No, you is flashing in and out of existence. Strobe!”

“Ah, yes. So, is that what kills me?”

“No, you is not gonna die until after dat.”

“So, will I die before I get out of bankruptcy?”

“No, Bank-o-Merica not gonna let you die until day after you pay off everting.”

“Oh, so I die with everybody else from global warming?”

“No. You is gonna die before that.”

“Oh? How?”

“You is gonna try to be a substie-toot teachum. You will forget to wear cloze one day, and you is dying of embarrassment.”

“Well, then, I guess I already got my nickel’s worth. That’s enough for today… and maybe for a lifetime.”

“You come back wit anudder nickel. I got lots more.”

“Oh, good.”

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Filed under humor, magic, Paffooney

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