Jennifer visited a psychic of some local repute. In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the mystic delivered grave news: “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt - prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year.”
Visibly shaken, Jennifer stared at the woman’s lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself.
She simply had to know. She met the fortune teller’s gaze, steadied her voice, and asked: “Will I be acquitted?”
Hmmm.
ReplyDeleteI guess this wasn't appalling enough for you to call me wicked!
:-)
I dunno, it certainly seems wicked enough!
ReplyDeleteFWIW
jimB
Thanks so much, Jim. I don't like the thought that I'm losing my touch! :-)
ReplyDeleteWhy is it that each time I try to picture the psychic, I see Ellie's face? I know! My imagination is wicked, wicked, wicked.
ReplyDeleteWell, Grandmère Mimi, I WAS born in Louisiana, you know! And there were certain, uh, traditions in my family...
ReplyDelete(I'll just keep the rest to myself for now......)
That's probably the reason why, Ellie.
ReplyDeleteHeh-heh.
ReplyDelete"That's Just the Way the Girls Are From Texas: Case Dismissed!"
(Chorus)
http://youtu.be/a27umlavRVI