Trouble in the Tarot
“I said as I laid out my fortune-telling supplies on a table inside the gazebo in Mini Central Park.My big, white, beautiful, arrogant cat scowled and gave me a look—as much as a feline can give a look—that said, Duh! Ya think?“How did I let her talk me into this?” I asked.Cat or no cat, his scowl deepened, and I swore I could see the brow he didn’t have arch sky-high.“Fine. Not me, us,” I added, making a set of air quotes. “And don’t give me that look, mister. You can’t say no to her any more t...han I can.”I shook my head at the ridiculous traditional, turban-style fortune-teller hat she’d tied to his head because I’d refused to wear one. I was a real psychic and simply used fortune-telling tools to help interpret my visions. I didn’t care to add to the stigma already attached to my profession.As usual, Granny was clueless and made it clear she thought I was being silly. She thought Morty looked adorable and that his attire added to our authenticity. I didn’t have the energy to argue, so I’d let it go.MoreLess
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