Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Until she belatedly notices me, gasps, and quickly drops her leg off of the table. “Griffin! I didn’t see you come in!”
The bell chimed and she still didn’t hear us? “Hi, Mrs. Shaheen! Good day!”
“Terrible day,” she grunts, putting out her cigarette in a seashell-shaped ashtray on the table. “Not a single customer. And you’d think with Halloween approaching that I’d be drowning in fools wanting their palms read, or their foreheads read, or their nipples read …”
“People want their nipples read …?”
Her eyes go sideways. “Haven’t you ever heard of a joke before? What did you come here for, anyway? Did you want a tarot card reading?” she asks as she pulls a decorative box from a shelf and opens it, revealing a weathered stack of cards. “The death card isn’t as scary as you might assume it is. Everyone’s so afraid of it.”
I smile patiently. “I did wonder if I could ask you a few, um, strange questions.”
“Strange is both my first and middle name. Sit. Let us see what the cards reveal.” She kicks the other chair at her tiny round table, causing it to scoot outward.
I don’t sit just yet. “Um, I was wondering if—”
“It’s not really my first and middle name. That was, once again, an example of a joke. See how that works?”
I try on a smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Shaheen.”
“Sit, I said. The chair won’t exsanguinate you.”
Exsangui-what? Still smiling, I reluctantly sit down as she takes a seat across from me and ceremoniously begins to lift the tarot cards out of the box. “I, um, was wondering if you can answer some questions about—”
“For another of your digital graphics things …?”
Sure, let’s go with that. “Yeah.”
“The cards will reveal all. Please cut the stack.”
“I … I don’t think a tarot card reading is what I’m here for, with all due respect. I just—”
“Well, why didn’t you say so??” she snaps at me, proceeding to unceremoniously toss the stack back into the decorative box in a mess, then slapping the lid shut. “What do you want, then, Mr. Fussy? A prophesy? Love line inspection? Crystal ball?”
This lady can lick my big crystal balls. Hush, West. “I just need a few answers.”
“Crystal ball it is.” She swipes the box of cards off of the table and goes to the shelf again.
As she trades the box of cards for a crystal ball on a bejeweled pedestal, which she carefully brings to the table, I start to do what I do best: ramble like a moron. “I’m taking on several Halloween-themed assignments lately, of course, and … one of my clients is convinced her neighbor is possessed by a—”
“Demon? Hellhound? Seven-headed Werepython? Don’t consult a priest, they just muddy everything up with their exorcism nonsense. All her neighbor needs to do is gargle a glass of salt water, take an Ibuprofen, and masturbate for two hours.”
Uh … “No. That’s … That’s not it. Her neighbor is possessed by a ghost. A … friendly ghost, actually. He’s caused the neighbor no harm. In fact, they get along.”
“Impossible. Ghosts are selfish, parasitic, and serve no purpose other than to nag the living and sulk about the awful lives they wasted.”
Hmm, not altogether inaccurate.
Hey! Not nice!
I try again. “Can we presume—hypothetically, of course—that the ghost is a friendly one?”
Once the crystal ball is fully set up between us, she settles into her chair with a tired sigh. “Oh, darling … if you’re wanting the full Shaheen experience, you need to not ask me about impossible hypotheticals. That’s like trying to imagine a world without chopsticks or peanut butter. It just isn’t possible.”
“Can you indulge me?”
“Fine. Your client’s silly neighbor is possessed by Casper the Nonexistent Friendly Ghost. And?”
“And the ghost seems to be trapped or bound to that house, no matter what. They can’t leave unless they’re riding inside the body of the neighbor.”
She wrinkles her face. “Riding inside the …?” She scoffs. “Griffin, what is this nonsense? You’re giving my crystal ball a headache.”
“And her neighbor, as it turns out, might be moving soon. To another city. Or maybe just another street in the same neighborhood. It’s uncertain. And … And they don’t want to leave behind this friendly ghost, to which they’ve become attached. But they can’t reasonably let the ghost just live inside of them forever. So …” I try to keep my voice level as I lean over the table slightly and bring down my voice. “How … hypothetically … would the neighbor be able to bring the ghost with them to the new place of residence?”
Clearly not taking any of this seriously, she starts to wave her hand over the crystal ball. “Let us peer inside the oblivion for answers, my dear, troubled tenant.”
My foot is bouncing impatiently under the table. Or is that you doing that, West? “I was really hoping you could just tell me, if you knew—”