Few things have disappointed me on a cosmic scale as much as last week when I got some takeout Chinese food and was denied my AMERICAN RIGHT to read my fortune upon cracking the eery pseudough of my after-dinner treat. My cries of outrage must've reached the heavens...for just now I reached to my prepackaged dessert to find two cookies packaged where one had been each time before. I named my two new friends Chang and Eng, for they had lived so long, so close together in in a plastic prison that must've tested the dexterity of the machine that sealed it and the social graces of the two cookies inside.And much to my happiness, there were fortunes in each of them. For each fortune I read, I don't add "in bed" to the end like most people do. Instead, I try to imagine who wrote each cookie and why.
Fortune 1 (I ate the surrounding pseudough)
Penned by a descendent of Dr. Frankenstein named Teddy Franks (geneology was tough to prove considering the Americanization of the name once his grandfather arrived at Ellis Island in 1911), this bit of invaluable and enigmatic advice acts as both a family motto and as a call to arms for his new branch of research involving the Asian concept of chi and the time-honored pursuit of immortality.
"Try to channel excess energies into rejuvenation."
Fortune 2 (One folded morsel of pseudough is enough)
Lovingly crafted in a dark apartment strewn with pizza boxes, the glare of a computer with a greasy mouse and a crumb-caked keyboard by Harry Holcomb. Bereft of real friends thanks to staggering social behaviours he cares not to change but exhibits freely on various less-than-wholesome websites on a pay-by-basis, he has compartmentalized his bits of conversation into several easy-to-understand English phrases that are designed not to wow, but convey his "interest" in people. No thanks Harry, I'm not buying what you're selling. It's going to take more than a vacuous compliment to rattle my cage!
"You are talented in many ways."
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