A refreshing take on the metaphysical world

Green Lake is known for being a little off the beaten path, but this one takes the cake.

Any major city nowadays has the usual shops and services: restaurants, grocery stores, trendy cigar bars, etc. And the bigger the cities get, we find more “specialty” services, like massage parlors and psychics. Green Lake has all of these, but they’re not quite what one would find in other places. For example, the trendy cigar bars aren’t trendy- especially John’s Cigars, who had a giant lead superstructure built over it last week to contain the toxins. The grocery stores recently had a price war- literally- as Appleville Grocery and Demarco Foods hired mercenaries to slash their own prices and their competitors’ teenage employees. And the restaurants? Four words say it all: Big Dog’s Armadillo Eatery.

Odd enough for you? Well, then there’s the specialty services. Six months ago our town psychic, Benny Bizzlewing, was brought to a mental ward by his wife, Wilma. She said he’d suffered an overdose of psychic energy; he walked around in overalls repeatedly chanting the word “waffles”. But Green Lake’s new psychic, Joan Wells-Gillman, seems a little more, well, normal. She has all the usual fixins a psychic shop has- beads, candlelight, incense. But it’s her gimmick that’s attracting attention as well as business. “I call myself a Practical Psychic,” says Wells-Gillman, “which means I answer questions that actually count.”

People come to Wells-Gillman’s corner shop not for the big questions of life, love and money but for information on smaller but more useful things. “A woman this morning, I helped her find her keys,” says the psychic. “Last night at about 3:00 am, the mayor couldn’t find a designated driver to get him home, so I sent a telepathic message to a cabbie in the area and got him a ride home. People come to me when they need help from the beyond to solve problems in the here and now.”

Locals are interested in the practical side of the psychic. “Does that mean she can tell me if my teenage son is doing it?” asked Lana Willis of Green Lake. “I think he’s doing it with that trashy girl down the street.”

The idea came to Wells-Gillman about six months ago, while she was toiling away for the Dionne Warwick Psychic line. Not only was her potential psychic energy going untapped, but, as she says, “People were asking me the same questions over and over. I got so sick of this ‘When will I find love?’ garbage. Look, NONE of you will find love! There, I said it for free!” She quit on the spot, spat on Warwick’s carpet, apologized, cleaned the carpet, and drove her car to Green Lake because “There’s more negative psychic energy here than any other spot in America. I figured I could make a quick couple of G’s off the suckers here… er, can we edit this?”

One puzzling question remained, and to my surprise, Wells-Gillman answered it before I could even ask: “Why do I insist on calling people, instead of letting them call me? I’m a psychic, for crying out loud! It’s my job to figure out who needs help!” But doesn’t it bother people when they’re charged her steep fee ($1500 per question) for a service they didn’t even request? “Look, pal. I’m a witch, too, I do that in my spare time. You want to get turned into an onion roll, or are you gonna call off the dogs here?”

Ever the skeptics, my editors made me test Wells-Gillman’s skills, so I asked her how I could get in contact with my last girlfriend. “Disbelieving fool!” she snapped. “You’ve never had a girlfriend!”

Ok, granted. But I couldn’t help but ask one bigger question: what adventures lie in store for me here in Green Lake?”

She blew out two of her three candles, eyes rolling back into her head. I let out a frightened yelp as a cold wild entered the room. Then I remembered it was the middle of October and shut the wide-open window behind me.

“There will be a chance for you to… [cough] WAFFLES!!! WAFFLES!!!” She then grabbed a nearby pair of overalls and walked out. I guess some things are too good to be true…

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