Monday, June 21, 2010

#163 Stella the Fortuneteller

I remember driving with my friend Ron to the library because we wanted to find some books on what Muslims believed.  I don't know why but we thought it was something interesting to do.  We got there and found all kinds of stuff.  I couldn’t name you what we read but we had a fun time discussing things.  Afterwards we got some donuts and Mountain Dew.  It was silent in the car, not in the uncomfortable way, but we just didn't have anything to talk about.  I think at one point it was 12:34 and I said, "Hey man, look, it says 1,2,3,4."  "Oh cool."  

We passed a Palm Reader’s house and then looked at each other and said we needed to go in there.  Just to check it out.  This was when I was driving my tan 1983 Volvo, which is often compared to by some people, as a tank.  The previous owner told me that if you run into 150 year old trees, the tree gets damaged and the Volvo remains untouched and walks away without a scratch.

So after making a u-turn as wide as Al Bundy’s Mom-in-law's bathing suit, I parked the car and we were thinking of what to do next.  We said a small prayer.  I don't remember what we said or who even prayed, but we were nervous.  We got out and knocked on the door.  A stocky lady that looked like she could have been in a Dove Beauty commercial, opened the door.  I looked behind her to see an awesome big screen TV, “Hmm business is good,” I thought to myself.  It was awkward standing there.  But she knew why we were there.  She knew why we were there so she stretched her arm across the door way and rested her hand on the left side door jamb, as if to say, “You are not allowed to come in here because you’re not interested in getting your palm read.”  All this happened in about five seconds and both parties communicated strongly our position to each other, without words that is.

In order to break the silence Ron asked, "So where do you get your power?"  I wanted to nudge him telling him that he just asked an inappropriate question.  It was as if he just asked her age or how much she makes a year or something.  But since she knew why we were there and wasn't going to let us in, it didn't matter.  "I get it from God," she said.  Another five seconds passed and she was still staring past our flesh and into our souls.  "I've had it since birth," she continued.  Her arm was still draped across the doorway trying to block the conversation.  I don’t even know why we really stopped in the first place other than to engage this hand sex hijinks they call Palm Reading, but it was real.  I was imagining Patrick Swayze behind the scenes coaching Stella what to say.  I think the previous night he and Stella were making love and clay pots mimicking Ghost, the 1990 fantasy drama film starring Demi Moore and Whoopi Goldberg.  You just never know about these things. 

Ron and I still call her Stella to this day.  “Aww dude, remember Stella?”  “Yeah man, she was probing our souls.”  The memory of her piercing through my eyes and into my soul is vivid; there was almost a tingle-like feeling attached to it.  I felt uncomfortable, like a cheap piece of meat, but not in a good way.  It was kind of like when someone undresses you with their eyes.  Whoever said the eyes are the window of the soul was spot on.

I don’t remember what happened next but we got back in the car, excited that we had a small adventure.  I think Stella is still there.  She probably has an even bigger TV.

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