A March 7th issue of The Onion was lying on the kitchen table next to a pile of newspapers. Gemini, whose hippie parents obviously named her during a drug-induced haze of sensibility, flipped through the paper. She sipped her coffee and turned to the horoscopes.
"Ah, Gemini," she said to herself. Which, obviously, was her horoscope. Damn those hippie parents.
Her horoscope read:
In a tragic twist of fate, you'll be overwhelmed this week by both a sense of fear and a pack of wolves.
I used to wonder: what if watermelons really grew in your belly if you ate watermelon seeds?
I'd have a garden of watermelons in my gut right now. Grapes and oranges and apples too. Cut me open and you'd get a whole fruit salad.
"You know what I hate? Flakers."
Tim nodded. "Oh man, me too."
"I thought people in New York were flaky. But damn, there are some flaky people in California." I shook my head and stared at my beer.
"So you must be single?" asked the dealer with a grin.
I chuckled. "Yea. Is it that obvious?"
He patted the dashboard. "Yup. Married guys don't usually buy convertibles."
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA