michael murray

I’m a pretty exceptional person in all sorts of different ways.

Very positive.

For instance, right now I am very, very hot, as our apartment is constructed out of fire, and I am also broke, as I just spent all of my money on a poor baseball card investment.

But do you see me complaining?

No, no you do not.

I see my life of destitution and heat prostration as an opportunity, not a burden.

While I was down at the Laundromat on Queen East earlier in the day, I noticed that the facility was air conditioned, and that amongst the people doing their wash (all bored and staring blankly ahead), there were also a number of other people—who looked a little down on their luck and could probably use a little guidance—who were taking refuge from the heat by sheltering themselves in the AC. It was clear to me that not only could I keep cool in the Laundromat, but that with a captive market looking for something to do, I could also make some money, and so I decided to open up a Fortune Telling stall in there.

Charging $20 for a Tarot Card reading, with a special “heat wave” reading (where I randomly select an item of clothing from the dryer and tell the person about themselves based upon the “vibe” I got off it) tossed in for free, I set up a table that I had decorated with a plastic skull, a few Bhutanese prayer flags, a game of Operation and some incense. (Rachelle’s perfume that I had sprayed onto some candles)

It took a little while, but I eventually got my first customer, a heavy-set woman (particularly the belly) with coarse red hair and a stain from the chocolate milk carton (1 liter) she was drinking from, on her shirt.

Refusing to pay $20, she insisted on paying me with a single load box of Tide. Sitting down at my table she said, “Okay pretty boy, tell me something I don’t already know!”

There was a tone in her voice.

I flipped over the first card.

“The Page of Cups. This suggests that you have digestive problems that are likely to continue unless you curb your sarcastic nature.”

She gave me a hard look.

“Just give me my lotto numbers.”

A man with a beard and a little shopping cart full of plastic bags came over to watch, “yeah, give me my lotto numbers, too, and tell me if the Leafs are going to make the playoffs.”

The red head woman gave him a look. “Badger, if you don’t step down right now…”

The man backed away, but added, “Carla, he’s good. You know you have the digestive problems, hell, I could smell your toots from across the room!”

“Whoever smelt it, dealt it, fuckwad!!”

And then Carla ran at Badger.

“The cards see conflict!!” I shouted, but nobody was listening so I took my box of Tide and closed up shop for the day.