THE PSYCHIC FAIR

(Work in Progress)

THE PSYCHIC FAIR
For Entertainment Purposes Only
Type:Short Story
Words: 1,079

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Elsie (67), waited for her friend Samantha, inside the arena. The trash barrel offered shelter from the river of people searching for missing pieces in their lives. Booths, three deep in beseechers, circled inside the boards. Two corridors cut across the iceless rink, length and width wise. “How fitting,” thought Elsie. "A cross inside a circle."

Ten private boxes up in the rafters suggested someone in town still had money. One stood out by its illumination. Inside, silhouettes toasted. She imagined the cheers celebrated the success of Chelsea's first Psychic Fair.

A squadron of smoke filled bubbles drifted past. She leaned back not to interfere. Normally, a bubble machine would raise questions of suitability in such a venue. Add a little smoke and Voila! Instant mystic!  Popping released a blast of incence.

Her friend Samantha(42) arrived.

“Sorry I am late,“ she said. "Meeting went long. Every since the market tanked, it seems all my time is spent in the boardroom. I rarely see the home office any more.”

They ventured into the flow.

“Always wanted to try one of these,” said Samantha. “Is this the typical turn out?”

“Strange,” said Elsie. “More than usual. Much more. It's usually eighty-five percent women. What do you think seventy / thirty?"

“So you're the guru here. Anyone I should stay away from?"

"Every profession has its bad apples spoiling it for the legitimate," said Elsie.

She sized up the cubicles on either side for the obvious start of her answer.

"Okay," she said. "The first is Brother Marco"

Neon shapes of a hand and question marks flashed above his counter.

"I've heard others refer to him as The Tear Maker. I call him Smash and Grab. Talk about hard sell. Your guardian angel sent you to me just in time. and You must act immediately He never gives up. As people walk by, he will thank them anyway and whisper: be sure to wear their seatbelt especially this week! He plays a numbers game because he has very few repeat customers. No need for a home office. '

Before Samantha finished her assessment, Elsie tugged her by the arm through the crowd across the aisle. The scent of ylang ylang overpowered the incense. Samantha massaged her temples from the instant headache it caused.

"Now, over here we have Glenda-and-the-The-Looking-Glass. She mirrors back whatever you say to her. No concrete predictions. No answers. No specific advice.'

Glenda's current subject stood astounded with her hands over her mouth.

"I must admit it feels good," said Elsie. "That is until she stops. Nothing lingers."

Applause broke out two booths down.

"Let's see what The Amazing Mildred is up to."

The rolling LED sign read:  'Astrologer, Clairvoyant, Psychic, Therapist'.

"She is the I-Can't-Make-Up-My-Mind-Psychic".

Elsie cupped her hands to profect her voice and yelled: "Hey Mildred! Choose a category. Please!"

No one within earshot knew what to make of Else, let alone appreciate her humour.

"Two down is the iPsychic. That's computer lingo for psychic geek. He reads canned horoscope interpretations off of a computer screen. Remember when computers first came out in the seventies? The con then was a sample of your handwriting on a puch card, stick it in the machine, lights flashed until the printer kicked out a report. Same thing."

Samantha noticed mostly guys in their twenties gravitated to the booth.

"Next on the Must Miss list is pTrade, the Psychic Stock Broker."

"You got to be kidding," said Samanta.

"Go ahead and laugh, but he was first to predict the market correction. He was first to drop his prices by twenty percent far in advance of everyone else."

"Let me guess," said Samantha.. “Evil energy is circulating through my money.”

"No he's a licensed broker. I don't know. Has to be a some sort of a ponzy scheme. But like everything else, investors are too embarrassed to call the police."

Samantha reached in to pick up a business card.

"To your left is Las Vegas Larry. Everything is big; big egos, big theatrics, big line ups,

“Even bigger prices,” said Samanatha
.
“Oh! Watch this. Watch this!"  said Elsie. "It's the blood in the water jar trick.”

They roll their eyes in unison as the onlookers clap.

“Who next. Who next. Oh. Can't forget Ramona, also known as, the  Pssst.-I-Hate-To-Tell-You-But-You're-Human psychic. She takes any daily human experience and turns it into a reason to shell out money; problems, important decisions, mood swings, betrayals by loved ones."

Samantha's attention turned to the next exhibitor. She reached back for Elsie's attention while she yelled "Problems. We all have them people! It's called life!"

“So, what's with the magician?” asked Samantha. “What's his schtick?”

“He's just a Magician,” said Elsie. “Doesn't need a schtick does he? He's happy. He's got an audience. Probably just booking birthday parties.”

Before Samantha has time to process the absurdity of it, Elsie says: "Next we have Aunt Elvira. I call her the Psychic Outfitter. Yes, she does read Tarot cards for ten dollars, but she's mainly interested in selling stuff. She carries all the props everyone else here uses to remove curses. Look in the showcase. Indian candles, five hundred dollars. Mexican Virgin Mary statues, six twenty-five. Scented aura cleanses, four fifty. If you wish to sell your house, she has St. Joseph statues to bury upside down in the backyard.

“What do you do with Mississippi Clay?” asked Samantha.

“It's used to make figures of yourself and loved one to reconnect. That's cheap, three seventy-five."

"Nice to see she has a referral program. One hundred dollars off."

"Everything is sold by referral of course. She adds credibility to everyone else that way. The proceeds are obviously split with the referring psychic."

Only a few more booths remained to complete the circuit.

“And finally we have Sister Lilly. As you see, the whole family is here. She's the illiterate psychic, so anxious to make a buck she forgets to use spell check. She loves to tell people half of their aura is missing."

Samantha points to her sign.

"Half the letters are missing, " she said. "'o - r - a. She should team up with iPsychic.”

Elsie checked her watch.

"So how long have you been coming to these things?" asked Samantha.

"It keeps me young," said Elsie

Samantha rubbed her hands to get started. "So, where can I find you?"

"First, I'm going to check out the Tax Consultant kiosk over there. I have a few questions about my filing."

"Elsie, what are you thinking? The room is filled with cheesy operators wanting nothing more than to know the balance in your bank account. Elvira is proof. You said it. They are all in cahoots. Now you're going to go and freely give that information to one of them. What do you think would happen if they knew how much money you made? I can understand the magician, but what the hell is a tax consultant doing at a psychic fair?"

Elsie paused. "Never thought of it that way. I just thought that since many of the people were here with inheritances and lotteries on their mind. But now that you mention it, I'll keep my questions general."

"While you do that," said Samantha, "I'll grab a pop. Can I get you anything?"

"Pick me up a local newspaper," said Elsie. "I want to see what is happening in town. There must be some reason for this large of a crowd."

Elsie leaned foreward from being brushed from behind. The crowds grew.

Samantha tossed out an explanation: "There's a lot of people out of work these days. A lot of people are looking for answers. Look at the faces. There's a lot of anxiety walking around."

"Well if something big is happening, I may just stick around town and catch up to the bus later. The Amherstburg stop changed last minute. Seems another poor child has gone missing."

"The bus tour changed it's itinerary on account of that?" asked Samantha.

"Think about it. Do you want to visit a town in shock, drowning in mistrust, wondering if their child is next?"

"I see your point," said Samantha.

Elsie reached into her purse.

"Here's a toonie for the paper. Make sure it's the local one."

"There's an easier way to decide," said Samantha, "and you save two bucks in the process.' She flipped the coin expecting a heads or tails call.

Elsie snatched it out of the air.

“Are you insane?” she said. “Don't let anyone ever see you do that; especially anyone from the bus. Spiritual Facilitators are expected to know all outcomes!”