Cat Condo

May 1, 2017
By Jenny.miller BRONZE, Long Grove, Illinois
Jenny.miller BRONZE, Long Grove, Illinois
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

      Well, it's that time of the week again. I love waking up Monday mornings to the new surprise the stars have in store for me. I love the feeling of not knowing where the Earth will take my spirit next. I get up and look at my zodiac chart on my walls thinking how blessed I am to be an Aries. Well not blessed, I mean, no one actually made me an Aries on purpose. I am simply tied to the consolation of the ram. My life is not my own. But that's ok because no one’s is. Some people believe in God or Buddha, but my higher power is the stars.

      Because of my unpopular or “strange” opinions, most people do not like being around me. My slight tendency to throw out psychic facts drives people away. Hence my condo full of cats, cat pictures, cat tea cups, cat everything. I have a cat condo! I am not an old cat lady. I am not sad and alone. I just simply like the ease of living with life that won't judge me for my constant visions and vivid dreams. Besides my 15 cats, I have hundreds of random knick knacks surrounding the tops of counters and depths of drawers in my home. It kind of takes on the work place of a psychic.But that's cuz  I am psychic. I laugh out loud. “Haha Ahhhhh.”  But not a working one. “My power is simply too great for others ears.” i say to Tigger, my oldest cat. He's been with me through it all.  Anyways, back on track with my thoughts. That's why I'm really into horoscopes and astronomy. You can tell very much by the formations of the stars and the lines on one’s palm. My life line is particularly short. But that’s a story for another time. Wow, I'm in a deep thought. Ok back to current time.
     As I get out of my bed I walk over to my star chart to see exactly where things our aligned. Jupiter seemed to enter my orbit this week. DARN. It's gonna be a ruff one.

      “Darn it!” He rolls his eyes down to the sidewalk. His green tea spilled everywhere. Now he has to go to work without it. Work was already bad enough today. He currently is on his way to go interview this crazy “psychic” person. How is this hard hitting news? Seriously, how? All his friends are out in south Chicago writing intense stories while he's here about to interview a nutty old lady. Without his green tea!How is he going to deal with her crap without his caffeine? Everything is going wrong today.
      When he arrives at the door, he smells something gross. Almost like the burning smell of already really bad smelling essential oils. As he's about to knock he hears, “On my way!” and the door swings open. He is welcomed by a smiling middle-aged Indian lady wearing orange drapes. She greets him light heartedly with a “Watch yourself walking up these stairs. You don't want to trip and fall”.
       “Hello, my name is Harold I'm from the New Times” he says as he reaches for her hand. She wiped off the dirt that was left on her hand from something previous. “Oh I don't read newspaper. Too many lies. O and there’s always sad news what's up with that!? I prefer to get my information from valid sources.” She looks down at her cats as if looking for a nod in agreement.
        Realizing she was finished with her bizarre sentence he comments, “Ok, anyways, I'm here to interview you.”
“Sorry? Wrong door the guy with the extra toe lives upstairs.”
         Needless to say, Harold was in awe of what she just said, pretty much everything she has said thus far. “No, there was a video of you online predicting a threat to Germany. You predicted 2 bombs going off and the police finding the last two before going off. You predicted 31 deaths and 59 injuries. Mam, you were right. That actually happened.” Not impressed with herself she responded, “Oh yeahhh that.” Again, she said nothing after the weird sentence. “Yeah uh, anyways can I come in we would like to get an interview.”
“O YEAH sure come on in.”
         As she waves him in the house with a big smile, he realizes all his surroundings. First the walls. They are covered with gaudy posters and transparent clothes. To his left he sees a room with shingles covering him from what is inside. And let's not even mention the cats. Literally everywhere. One cat two cat three cat four. 13 cats all over the floor.
“Huh, a rhymer? Didn't peg ya as the poetry type. Guess we can't predict everything am I right?” She blurts out. “ And there’s actually 15 cats! 13 was a good guess though” she blurts out with a smile. “O sorry, I'm really trying to work on that” she says as she looks down at Tigger sorrily. “Can I get ya some more green tea? Sit down there at the table.”
      He looks at the cylinder shaped pillows she must use for the chairs to her very low table. This can't be happening. He's sure this is all a coincidence. She didn't actually know that he had dropped his green tea outside. There has to be a logical explanation for all this. She's a crazy old lady that thinks she's a psychic. Of course she has tea. Herbs and stuff, isn't that a big thing for the people who believe in Mumbo jumbo?
       “Here ya go. My special green tea latte with special herbs, they help with stress.” She winks and puts down the huge golden chalice in front of his face. There are a few things going on through his head right now. One, ha! He knew it, of course she has green tea and herbs. Two, why the hell did she just serve him green tea out of a golden chalice that looks like the triwizard cup from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? Three, he is stressed yeah, but that means nothing, she did not predict that one. Everyone is stressed these days. It's just another coincidence. “So what's the deal with this cup?”
“Oh that old thing? Nice, isn't it? My grandmother gave it to me before she passed away.”
“Who says that.”
“Isn't is cool.” She said excitingly apparently not caring about his comment.
“So Mr. Smythe, what questions can I answer for you?”
Did I tell her my last name? I must've when I first met her. Yeah. “So tell me about the numbers? How did you guess 31 deaths and 59 injuries?”
“I didn't guess.” She said with a joyful smile almost saying, don't you know? “Ok then, Ma’am, how did you think of these numbers?”
“Simple.” She yelled happily. “I just knew.”
“You just knew? Ma’am I am writing a paper here for the biggest newspaper in the country I am not going to write “she just knew folks”.
“Numbers always have a meaning” she said Laughing like I should've understood what she meant. “Can you explain please?”
“Well it's simple really, I woke up that morning and looked at the side walk out my window and saw the number 31 on the street. Then a car drove over it and it was gone. Hence, 31 is gone. Then I turned toward my computer and accidentally clicked the stock market website and the first numbers I saw were a 5 and a 9.”
“So you just saw numbers and made them meaningful?”
“No. The numbers were meaningful before I saw them.”realizing  I wasn't getting anywhere with this number thing I shifted gears. “Moving on, how did you predict the bombing?”
“Sweets, let's just say I trust my instincts.”
“Ma’am I'm no believer of magic but it doesn't take an idiot to see the coronations between your prediction and the events that took place. What we want to know is, how did you know. Are you a member of the terrorist organization?” It was time to ask the tough questions. “There is no such thing as magic and sorcery. There has to be, no there is a logical explanation to your prediction. What New Times wants to know is are you in contact with the terrorist group who rockstar tee the attack? Or did you hear about it and try to be the hero? What actually happened?”

      This isn't fun anymore. I let him in because I thought it would be cool to maybe answer some questions. But now I see on him that he will not believe what I say. “I'm psychic.”
“You said you don't believe in magic well I'm not a magician Mr. Smythe, I am a psychic.”
“What, so you're just not going to answer the question?”
“Sir I see you.” She paused “I can see that you have a stubborn mind and it's you're way or the highway, I think that's the expression. You don't believe me. You are stressed and jealous of all your friends getting the hard hitting stories while you are stuck here interviewing a batty old lady am I right?” She pauses again for dramatic effect, he doesn't respond so she continues “you were jealous so you turned this boring old interview, or one that you thought would be boring, into an interrogation for selfish reasons. I am not blind. You are. You heard everything I have to say and you still deny yourself the possibility that it might I fact be the truth, that scares you so you turn the conversation on me to make me look like the bad guy. I am not blind. I see you.”
       Without leaving her gaze he states, “I'm going to leave. There is no story here. Just a loony old lady pretending she's magical.”
      With that he got up and started walking for the door. Not frustrated by the situation she waves him goodbye and reaches for his hand.He looks at it and turns around to the door. “ it was a pleasure being interviewed and I hope you have all you need for your story. Watch out on your way down the stairs, the steps are steep!” And with that he was gone. I walked back to my table and sat down looking at the chalice if green tea, Wow my herbs really don't work. BOOM!
    “Oh no. Guess he didn't listen to me about the stairs. Gosh I just knew it.”

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