Psychics, Palm and Tarot card readings by appointment, how can I help you?”A ganja-seasoned voice drawled, “Oh, hey man, I got an image of what looks likeHunter S. Thompson at the bottom of my tea-cup – do you do tea-leaves?”Athanasius’ shoulders sagged as he pondered (not for the first time) that, as acareer in the psychic slash visionary field goes, this was pretty much rock bottom. Hesighed, for he had seen the Rorschach
effect many times; most recently with a hornyskater who saw an image of Scarlett Johansson in the gooey trails left at the bottom of hismacaroni and cheese.
Gently rolling up the parchment and snatching his copy of “People” magazine, Athanasius leaned back in his chair, affected his best genericEastern-European accent, and said “A great and troubled man who’s nature resemblesyour own,” with the resignation of a man who understood that while the phony psychicracket was pretty lousy, it still beat the pants off delivering pizzas for minimum wage or that year he spent collecting plague bodies in Italy. He still had trouble eating lasagnaafter that.Athansius, knowing for a fact that the world was going to end shortly, could have just hung up on the idiot with the sage advice to put his head between his legs and kisshis ass goodbye, but he had a few hours to go before The Big Finale kicked off, so hedecided to have a little fun with him first.“Although, seeing Hunter at this juncture indicates problems with your groinchakra,” he said, successfully surpressing a smirk. He imagined a pot-addled dorm ratwith dreadlocks concernedly thrusting his hand down the front of his cargo pants andrubbing his nutsack with the same concerned expression a bomb squad newbie wouldwear as he worried over whether or not to cut the red wire or the green.“That blows man – I was hoping to nail this chick before the world ends today,”said the stoned voice, a voice that until now Athanasius assumed was any other mark.Shocked suddenly from his boredom, Athanasius leaned forward, fumbled withthe phone, dropped it to the floor, yanked it up by the cord, pressed it to his ear, andasked, “Who is this?”“I’m Chaz, man,” he said, matter of factly, as if this was supposed to meansomething to him, “and I see things from the smoke, you know, but, I guess I was looking
Curiously, the same bowl of macaroni and cheese that would later end up on the receiving end of Jack’shand upon surprisedly awakening next to a dead nun.