HOW TO GET SOME REALLY GOOD BONES

By Madam Mystic Misty Merkel
I am getting really sick to death of talking to dead people. All they do is complain about being dead and tell me off because of my lifestyle. Dead people need to get their own life and leave me alone. Dead people don’t even give you good forecasts of what is going to happen in the future. They just give you a bunch of scenarios that may or may not happen. If I wanted scenarios I’d just listen to Jay Leno.

I’ve tried rubbing my Petoskey stones but, when there is snow on the ground they seem to be in some sort of psychic hibernation. The problem is that I have to earn some cash just to stay white trailer trash. Otherwise I’ll be trolling. That’s Michigan slang for living under a bridge. I’ve been a lot of things but, I don’t want to end up being a troll.

Luckily, I was arrested for practicing psychic readings without a license. In Michigan you need a license for almost everything if you are a small business. I paid the fine and bought a license and then suddenly, I started getting all kinds of adds in the mail and phone calls. These advertisements and phone calls were all about helping people to become better psychics. These advertisers must be really great psychics since the only place that has my name, telephone number and address and occupation is the State of Michigan.

Well, in one of these ads from Grand Rapids, there was this psychic named Madam Mystic Katrina Jones. She claimed that she had magic chicken bones that could call up the spirits of only truly honest people so that any psychic with a high school diploma or GED equivalent could forecast an accurate future for any paying client.

I called up Madam Mystic Katrina Jones and asked her how much her chicken bones were. She told me that her chicken bones were $19.99 for two legs and two wings. It would be an extra $5.00 if I wanted a breast bone. Madam Jones insisted that the breast bone was the best part of the chicken so, if I wanted to give good readings I would have to pay the full price of $24.99 plus $9.99 for shipping and handling. I told her that I thought she was charging too much for chicken bones. She told me that if I didn’t buy bones from her she was going to put a curse on me.

I decided I could get my own bones cheaper than what I could buy them. I decided that the way to get some good bones quickly was to just go to Kentucky Fried Chicken and get a whole bucket of chicken for a lot less than what Madam Mystic Katrina Jones was going to sell them to me. The only problem is that I really don’t like to eat chicken so I started feeding my new poodle puppy named Esmeralda chicken with the hope that the dog would eat the meat off the bones then, I would be able to get a hold of some better spirits when I was telling someone’s fortune.

Unfortunately, my little dog got a chicken bone stuck in her throat and I rushed her to the vet but, it was too late. The vet told me my little dog did not make it. He offered to take care of the remains for me but, I said I wanted to make sure my puppy had a descent burial. He suggested I take her to the old pet cemetery located on the corner of Lived Street and Redrum Avenue. The vet told me I could burry my pet for free there. He said nobody buried their pets there anymore since it was discovered that the cemetery used to be an old lumberjack burial ground for those lumberjacks who practiced satanic rituals. I told him I wasn’t worried about some Lumber Jacks. I said that I had been cursed by a Grand Rapids psychic and now my little dog was dead. How much worse could my luck be?

So, I buried my little pooch in the cemetery and wondered what else might happen to me after being cursed by Madam Jones. A few days latter at around midnight there was a scratching at my back door. I opened the door and my little dog Esmeralda came gimping into my trailer. I guess she hadn’t been dead after all. That vet didn’t know what he was talking about when he told me my little dog was gone. I should have known he was crazy when he started telling me that the pet cemetery was an old graveyard for lumberjacks who worshiped Lucifer.

Right now I am just glad to have my Esmeralda back home with me. She does kind of smell really bad and she has a really bad case of mange. Every time I touch her a big clump of her hair falls out. Sometimes the skin is still attached to it. Her eyes are always bloodshot and she never wags her tail or barks. She just makes a constant low growling sound. It’s as though she has lost her zest for life. In addition, ever since she was buried she has had a really mean disposition. She snaps at everyone that gets near her. I’m still glad she’s home. I guess I should also be thankful that Madam Jones didn’t really place a curse on me. I certainly can’t see any evidence of the curse so far.