Straight No Chaser

Make It Happen, or, Goldie, You Freak!

after that, i went oc for few minutes, googling "amazing coincidences" and poring through the results with my mouth hanging open. eh, i'm wary of stuff like that, think that mother was trying to off her baby, et cetera, but i've got an open mind, and i like a good story.

one article told the story of a town that typically averaged ten deaths a week among its citizens--until the week the town's obituary writer took a vacation. no one died that week, supposedly; regular business resumed when she came back.

first thought: it would be a good premise for a ray bradbury short or an alfred hitchcock episode--the little old journalist lady who always submitted obituaries with startling promptness, because it was actually she penning the town's deaths into existence.

next thought, after reading goldie's prompt, was that an even better career use for cause-effect shadiness would be some street psychic stuff--you pay a "clairvoyant" to speak the words to set your future in motion; because she says it, it is so.

i'd sure the hell do it. i'd go back to "Melvine"  and tell her to give us a great next week, no rain and no swollen tonsils, the two looming dangers that could conceivably ruin it. and, depending on how she charged, per minute or by magnitude, i'd probably also ask for the needle-test babies to be his, acceptance to the law school of my silent choice, a year-round paying job starting soon after i graduate, et cetera.

it would be the biggest mistake i ever made, paying to have my future read aloud like a bad barbara delinsky book jacket.