Last week you went to a psychic and she told you to always wear clip-on ties. You told her that you only wanted to find out who you should make a play for at work, but she said the only thing she could see in your future is a need to wear clip-ons. You told her you wanted your money back and she said that in addition to the clip-on thing, if you ask her for your money back you'll end up regretting it. 'I have brothers,' she said. You told her to fuck herself and give you your money back anyway, so she did.
Today one of her brothers will come to kick your ass and you're going to get into a big cliff-side fist-fight with him. You'll end up shoving the psychic's brother over the edge and when he starts to tumble backwards, he'll grab your tie to try and take you with him. Luckily, though you thought she was a charlatan, you'll have taken that psychic's visions to heart and her brother will yank your clip-on right off of your shirt and go flying to his death on the rocks below with the tie still clutched tight in his fist.
After you lean over the cliff and spit on the body, you'll go find that psychic and tell her she is truly a woman blessed with a vision. You'll give her the money you owed for that first reading and you'll tell her she was even right about you regretting taking the money back because if you hadn't, you might not be feeling bad right now about killing her brother in a first-fight.
'You're very honest,' you'll say. 'You obviously knew it was your brother who would grab that tie and you didn't have to tell me to wear a clip-on, but you knew it would save my life so you told me.'
She'll tell you that she had no idea her brother would die in a fight with you. Her brothers are really tough and she assumed they'd beat your ass bloody. She told you to wear a clip-on because when she tried to see into your workplace and figure who you should make a move on, all she could see was you leaning way to close to the paper shredder and your tie getting caught in the blades on the day of your performance review. She'll tell you she wishes she had told you to wear a noose for a tie so her brother could have grabbed the rope and snapped your neck with one quick yank before he died. She'll warn you that she knows a firestarter so don't be surprised if one of these days you're walking down the street and all of a sudden you just explode into a superhot motherfucking fireball.
Then she'll throw your money back at you and say, 'Now go find another psychic who's willing to help you get your candyass laid.'
You'll walk out sad. Once a week for the rest of your life, you'll visit the psychic's brother's grave to lay flowers on the soil. But the rest of your life only lasts five weeks before your belt bursts into flames and burns you in two.
Happy Clip-On Ties Day!
