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Loading ...From the latest issue of Swift: I belong to a professional association and we have a little get together once a month to chat and catch up, etc. Last week was most illuminating when I learned that one in our group is a “psychic.” She was passing out flyers advertising an animal fair for a worthy cause. On the flyer, among the list of things to do, was PET PSYCHIC. Well I wasn’t about to let this go.
“Pet psychic?” I queried. “Yes,” she replied, “I can tell you what your dog is thinking and how he feels. You should come.” “I don’t have a dog,” I said. Not to be thwarted from a possible sale, she retorted with, “I can talk to cats, too.”
“I had a cat but it died. I have an Umbrella Cockatoo now,” I said. Her: “You should still come. It will be fun.” “What do the animals tell you?” “I ask the dogs how they’re feeling, if they’re happy, if their food is good, stuff like that.” “If I bring my neighbor’s dog, can you ask the dog its name and then tell me?
It was here the conversation went from mildly amusing to absurd.
“You could bring your parrot and perhaps I could (pause)…. can your parrot talk?” she asked. “Yeah,” I replied “so I guess I really don’t need a pet psychic.”
The person sitting next to me leaned over and whispered, “You do realize you’re going to hell don’t you?” To which I replied, “You wanna play, too?”
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