Thursday, February 21, 2008


Pretty much any psychic can read someone’s palm. And most of ’em can do a decent job on tea leaves.

But Madame Potrzebie carved out a unique spot for herself among the members of the Soothsayers and Fortunetellers Guild. She was the only one who could read Ass-Cracks.

Ass-Cracks, it seems, carry a lot of psychic energy. Moona-mana, you could call it. And Madame P. knew all the secret ways to tease it out.

She could tell you about your loves, your dreams, your desires. How long you would live. Your deepest, darkest fears...and how to deal with them. What you ate yesterday (an especially easy question for her).

Clients came to her with fistfuls of money, wanting guidance in their business and personal decisions. “Should I take this new job?” “Is Jeremy the right man for me?” they’d ask her, and after a careful reading, she would outline the future consequences of all of their possible choices. Whether a customer was famous or obscure, it mattered not; Madame P. would offer up an impartial and accurate prognostication, as long as she was paid her (surprisingly reasonable) fee.

But she drew the line at politics.

The pundits and candidates flocked to her early on, knowing of her prodigious talents. “Who will win the election?” they all wanted to know. But Madame P. turned them all away empty-handed, and no amount of money could sway her from her refusal.

“Politicians!” she spat. “All hole and no crack.”

No comments: