inkydink: I iz confussled (nel tu)
[personal profile] inkydink
Once, when I was young and the internet was even younger, I went to a party at a house in one of the posh villages off the CBD. The host, a somewhat handsome older gentleman, was the expat CEO of some financial firm, I forget which, and he was the lead talent in a forgettable series of some fifty training videos on the proper way to clean a hotel room, or somesuch, for S.C. Johnson products. I think he was the only white person the producer could get at such short notice, and he was pretty amiable, thought it quite fun. His wife, his Filipina former secretary back in the UK, thought his video debut was a great opportunity to throw a bash. 

(Fun. Pah. I had to write 50 damn training video scripts – some twelve pages each– in three days. On a manual typewriter. One with an "E" key that kept flying off. They paid me half of what I get for one such script these days for all fifty. And they still owe me half of that. Anyway.) 

The night's main entertainment was a fortune teller: a pretty, very feminine boy who kept staring at me all night. Very fortune-teller like, all he lacked was a turban. Being the child of a fundamentalist Baptist father, I tried to avoid having my fortune told by running off to the host's library to help him kill a bottle of Laphroiag he said he was saving for the moment he met someone in this godforsaken country who actually knows (and drinks) single-malt Scotch. 

We were about three quarters down the bottle when his wife came in and said everyone wanted to hear what my fortune was, so I shrugged and followed her back to the solar. He unwrapped a long scarf (it could have been a turban) that had tarot cards and laid them out and made me choose a few. He took out the one with a woman with a star on her forehead and waved it somewhat triumphantly. 

"Here! Do you know who this is?" 

I frowned. "Uh, star on forehead. Wonder Woman?" 

He rolled up his eyes and shook his head, "Loca! It's you. It means you are very very very intelligent." 

"Er, I don't really need a fortune-teller to tell me that. Tell me something I don't know." 

He pursed his lips and frowned, "Well, then! What do you want to know?" 

"Will I get rich?" 

He turned over the rest of the cards and said, "You will make a lot of money, but you'll end up giving all of it away." 

"ALL???" 

"Well, most. You'll never be rich, but you'll never want either, that's for sure. There will always be people taking care of you, you're spoiled that way." 

Someone snickered. Producer laughed and said it was all true. 

Fortune-teller boy then made me hold out my palms outward and traced the lines. "Look," he said, "so many stars. So many diamonds." 

All I could see was a bunch of lines in blue ball point ink. 

He shook his head, somewhat exasperated. " You're so lucky. You don't know just how lucky you are. You'll never know how lucky you are." 

I think he might have been wrong on that last point. .
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inkydink

April 2012

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