Little did we know…

telling future, past
it all seems kinds creepy
and expensive too

The other day, I was totally stressed with the move and the wee one and I were tooling around town, running errands, and I just had to stop the car and take a few deep breaths. Traffic was terrible, the wee one wouldn’t hush and I thought I was going to have a panic attack or something.

So, I stopped the car. After my deep breaths, I noticed we were in the parking lot of this psychic I’ve been driving past for years. I thought, what the hell, let’s go inside. Why not? The sign says walk-ins welcome.

The wee one and I walked in and instead of the velvety, musty, incense-filled movie set I was expecting, we were met with the grime, dirty baseboards and faintly tinged beer smell that I should have expected. At this point we should have just walked out, but we had been noticed by the uber-skinny, giant-eyed lady sitting in a ratty barca lounger, watching Montel on a staticky old TV.

She asked if we wanted our palms read or a tarot reading or what. I wanted to say we were just there to use the phone, but something compelled me to say "palms" and so we sat at a round table, not unlike the kitchen table I saw at a garage sale a few weeks ago and thought, "I bet that table weighs a thousand pounds."

The wee one and I each took a chair – at this point he was chattering on and on about Star Wars and light sabers and ninjas and something called a "power kick" and he barely noticed when the lady reached out and grabbed his hand.

Her brow wrinkled, her eyes closed, and she traced her fingers all around his palm as he giggled and squirmed and tried to pull away. She held on fast, though, and after a few moments she said, "This young man will always enjoy peanut butter."

OK.

"You will have to watch his consumption of bacon."

I laughed. "He’s only eaten bacon once and that was last night. He liked it, but I doubt he’ll eat it again. He doesn’t eat a lot of different fooo—"

She held out her other hand to motion for me to shut up. "He likes music." she said abruptly.

And she was right. He’s always loved music. From the time he was in the womb, to now when he hums the Indiana Jones soundtrack to lull himself to sleep. But all kids like peanut butter and music, right? Was I getting my money’s worth here?

Then she asked a weird question.

"Has he ever mentioned Priscilla?"

I was ready to balk but then I remembered that he had actually mentioned a Priscilla a few times. When he was tiny and just learning to talk he talked about how he "wuved pwisilla" and I never really knew what he was talking about. I always thought it was a sesame street thing. I had forgotten about this until our "psychic" mentioned it. In fact, just the other night he was sleeping and yelled something about "Priscilla and the baby" but I didn’t think much of it.

"Yes," I said, feeling just the beginnings of a hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-my-neck zing.

She continued to feel his palm and study his face. I wanted to get us out of there. I’d only gone in and agreed to this whole thing because I thought I would be the one having a reading. I didn’t want to freak out the wee one. He seemed to be having a blast, though.

She mumbled something about Memphis and the sun and a dead twin and that’s when I stood up. "No dead twins here," I said quickly as I grabbed the wee one and we hustled towards the door.

"I would suggest a past life regression!" she shouted after us as we hurried out. When we reached the doorway, the wee one stopped and turned towards her.

"You make me happy." he said strangely. "You make my dreams clear." She smiled and I wigged. I grabbed his arm to drag him out the door.

"You know now that Vegas was a bad idea!" she shouted after us.

"I’ve never been to Vegas!" I shouted back.

"Say no to drugs!" the wee one yelled back as I wrestled him into his booster seat.

"Good-bye, Elvis," the lady said from the doorway just loud enough for only me to hear her.

Once we were in the car and spinning out of the gravel parking lot the wee one asked if we could listen to the "little less conversation" song.

Spooky.

And also completely untrue. Happy April Fools Day!

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4 thoughts on “Little did we know…

  1. I am so embarrassed… You’d think after all this time reading your blog, I’d see this coming… You had me until “Elvis.” 🙂

    Like

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