Now I was keeping an eye out for a ragged gathering of tents,
probably on someones farm, whose owner had a spare acre for
a bunch of weirdos to squat on for the weekend... for a price.
But what we found was this:
*she made me get out and take a picture. Much later I realized
with some satisfaction I'd forgotten to disable the old timey
filter. Score one for the good guy!*
"Huh," was about all I said from that point on until we reached
the imposing building's front door. Who knew all this new age
garbage paid so well?
Once inside, IgnoreMeLikeIJustHappenedToFollowHerInAndWasLikely-
AboutToAskForSpareChange presented the weekend pass (paid for
with my credit card, printed on my paper, using my printer, not
to mention- my ink, which I will mention because it's so expensive).
Shortly, we met with the Reiki master, Rocko. That was his name,
I kid you not. I won't bother with a description, as you've likely
seen his type before. Let's just go with a checklist:
Pony tail? Check.
Slightly graying? Check.
Sickly with pasty skin? Check.
Round spectacles? Check.
Weird chin hairs that might have been a beard at some point, but
now defied description due to years of suffering a tofu only diet.
Wait... I just realized yoga mats and tofu smell suspiciously
Rocko led us to another room that would put a world class hoarder
to shame. Being not in tune with the universe makes me unqualified
to describe the scene, and its more esoteric contents, but there
were also plenty of dusty books on shelves, crystals on little brass
stands, and larger minerals (make sure you use air-quotes when
referring to minerals in the New Age fashion) laying about.
We followed him to the longest counter I'd ever seen. I drifted
away from them as they spoke in their secret gobbledy gook language,
down the counter, a frown forming on my face. Something was off.
Suddenly I realized there was a deer head hanging behind the counter,
above the many cabinet doors. And peeking out from the far end, a
stuffed wolf. There was even an unidentifiable lump of fur on the
end of the counter itself.
My detective instinct, which I'd gained primarily from too much
Netflix, kicked in. Taxidermy and New Age do not mix! I spun on
a heel to point out the critical fact, only to find Rocko and
WhatsHerFuzz talking about how to do a thorough colon cleanse.
My revelation flew out the window and this spewed forth instead:
"Rectum? Damn near killed him!"
In my defence, a manager at one of my previous jobs had the habit of
saying, 'If you fling enough poo at the wall, something's bound to
stick.' And my awkward relationship status made it hard to determine
what clever one liner would get us back to knocking boots again. So,
flinging as much as possible seemed a reasonable strategy.
Cue the flinty gaze and curled upper lip from WillYouPleaseDropDead.
"Dude," Rocko said as he came over and stared at me. "You're aura
is like, all gibbled."
"It is?" Was all I could say. I'm no expert in how auras should
look, much less how a gibbled one would appear. I suspected he didn't
know either, but between the two of us, the fakir would know the truth
of his lies, whereas the ignorant, me, was lost on the subject. (Note
this is how I argue with IAmAlwaysRight - with clarity and conciseness).
"Absolutely," Rocko assured me. "But don't worry, I have just the
thing to soothe your energy." He opened one of the cabinets, revealing
a plethora of ancient bottles and glass containers.
I took a picture of them:
*Just kidding. I'm not some weirdo that takes pictures of every
mundane thing then posts it on my Facebook or twitter feed. I stole
this picture off the internet from someone else who did exactly that.
I'm sensing an argument that would place me in an even poorer light,
so, moving right along...
Rocko placed a small glass bottle down in front of me. Before he
could say more, Don'tTalkToHimI'mTheCenterOfAttention drew him
away with a rather awkward question about the lower colon which I
shall not repeat here.
I examined the label, which looked like an original from Gutenberg:
Nerve Syrup- A valuable remedy for epilepsy, St. Vitas dance,
convulsions, hysteria, nervous debility, nervous prostration,
insomnia, neurasthenia, and disorders of the nervous system.
Hmm... I didn't appear to be suffering from any of that... but then
again, I wasn't a Reiki master. Whatever. Off came the cap and the
shot went down in one gulp. As a tingling feeling traced its way
along my tongue, down my throat, into my stomach, and, I swear,
right to my giblets, I glanced at the label again. It was a single
dose... right? Right?
...continued in next post...
edit on 7-7-2017 by shlaw because: the cow jumped over the moon.