Expectations were fully crushed when the medium didn’t roll her eyes back, didn’t go into spasms, and didn’t speak in a ghostly voice. She simply set the fruit aside and clasped her hands in the universal we- need- to- talk gesture of a concerned parent. Feeling like a scolded child, Flora broke the silence and flinched at the sound of her own voice:
- Do you want to say something?
- Yeah, girlie, thing is, I had to tune in to the ether waves and all that woo- woo crap. And fruits and veggies help me with that — they’re totally awesome ‘cause of their soulfulness and
Evelyn was utterly shocked.
- What? Vegetables are alive? And suffer? Are you out of your mind?!
- Clothes aren’t supposed to walk around either, they should just sit folded in a — Flora nodded toward the still, statue- like Costume (whose immobility had become the norm).
- .. yeah. But there’s, like, a human inside. Probably. And that banana is just a banana!
- Fascinating — Manu commented, without a hint of irony.
- And yet — the fortune- teller pointed at the fruit — it has brains. A real And this dude is upset that his hermanos suffer because of... damn, how do I even say that? You outta your mind, saying that crap? — Peyota paused mid- sentence and stormed over to the medium, grabbing her by the collar. The great mage shrieked hysterically and started blurting out words at high speed.
- Yeah, I still don’t get it, what the hell is this cultural .. pri.. pi… pinapple? What tha hell are ya saying, you bald freak?
- Cultural — Manu jumped in quickly, apparently worried the fortune- teller might get decked. — Bananas are suffering due to cultural appropriation.
Peyota calmed down and resumed her role as interpreter:
- They’re mad dat humans dress up as fruits and veggies in those big mascot costumes, hand out flyers, lure people into stores, and stuff like that. It’s total shit, boyz. Not okay.
- I’ve never thought about — Vanna whispered. — I swear, I’ll start donating to every banana psychological help fund! I promise! My poor babies…
Manu hugged the sobbing girl, and Flora gave her a sympathetic look — she too felt the same heaviness in her chest. But they had to carry on — the movie wasn’t going to film itself.
The fortune- teller, not wasting time, pulled out a deck of Lenormand natal cards, with anime characters on the covers. This instantly calmed the designer, who squealed:
- Oh, that’s Eren Yeager! Awesome! Can I see it up close? - But was silenced by a stern glare from kind- hearted Peyota.
- Respect, Vanna, for shutting Now, dis bruja wants all of us to draw a card.
Everyone obediently followed the instruction, except for Costume — not due to a lack of will, but something else. The fortune- teller looked at him closely and suddenly shrieked, alarming everyone. The reason was:
- This rag has no soul. Bananas But this thing — nothing. And Rufa?a doesn’t get why the hell that is…
- Your soul is mine… — murmured the Copy in a familiar tone, but Costume didn’t stoop to such clownery and kept arrogantly silent. What did he care about mortals?
Cards aren’t just for the plot — they need to be revealed physically, when held in your hands. Flora decided to go first and showed her card. Everyone saw a giant winking drop of water, with the word Wasted written below it.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
One by one, everyone else showed their cards — and each of them depicted the same drop with the same word. Vanna asked the obvious:
- Why are all the cards the same? What does it mean?
- As obvious as slapping two fingers on the asphalt! You're all gonna I mean, death awaits us all in the end, so this reading... it’s, like, universal.
Evelyn backed up his refined frustration:
- Exactly! Flo, let’s pack up this freak show — ‘cause what’s waiting for us here is just a
Remarks like that clearly ticked off the fortune- teller. Sweating buckets and wrapping herself tighter in her shawl, she snapped in flawless English:
- So what, you wanna know if your film's gonna be a success or not?
- We told you that from the — Said the camerawoman. — And wow, how’d you learn the language so fast? Props for that. What app did you use?
- Then what kinda success are we talkin’ about here? Local? Global? Flora looked at her cast and admitted:
- We’re going for the
- Oh wow! — The fortune- teller twitched her ringed — Then you must have a huge budget for your film.
- Yeah, as big as yours when you went to Turkey for that — Campus cackled nastily. Even Manu chuckled politely into his fist — clearly the skeptic found the psychic unbearable.
Rufa?a ignored the jab. Narrowing her eyes, she locked her gaze on the director:
- I propose a You agree to give me 20% of your box office revenue, and I’ll tell you exactly whether you’ll win that award or not.
- Naw, baby ma! That’s some straight up janky-ass scam! — Peyota flared — Cash gets split wit’ the crew, not handed out to some random lookin’ like a bootleg Stevie Nicks. Y’all heard?
Need me to run that back?
The dangerous girl reached under her shirt, fiddling with her waistband. Flora jumped in quickly:
- No, no — got it! We decline! — She aimed that reply squarely at the medium, whose face turned crimson with rage. Rufa?a puffed up and screamed:
- THEN GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE! SPIRITS DON’T TALK TO BROKE- ASS PEASANTS!
At that moment, something launched through the air and landed squarely on her face, wriggling and flopping around. Rufa?a shrieked in utter panic:
- Get it off! What the hell is this thing?!
The whole crew burst out laughing. Some chuckled awkwardly (guess who? Yep — no surprise, Flora), while others howled openly.
The culprit? Good ol’ Campus. He’d taken it upon himself to become the medium’s living nightmare, flopping around like he was being puppeteered by some invisible string. The toy howled louder than Rufa?a herself:
- I avenged us all, you balding piece of crap! I sat on your face! Sniff my loins! Always wanted to say that ever since I learned that word!
After all the shrieking and swearing, the crew left the tent in high spirits, leaving the stunned and traumatized psychic behind. Campus returned to his usual position, strapped to his master’s gut.
Just as they crossed the threshold, they bumped into a man smoking outside, nervously eyeing the entrance. When he saw the group, he asked:
- Why’s he yelling like that?
- He has a rather insatiable appetite… for — Manu explained with elegant clarity. The man chuckled:
- That’s my son all right. I’ve probably smoked a whole damn pack just trying to find the courage to go back in. He’s driving me nuts with all that nonsense.
- Such is the fate of a parent — to bear the burden of their — Manu mused philosophically, but his vibes were lost on Rufa?a’s father. The man spat on the ground and pulled out another smoke.
The troupe lingered for a moment, stirred by Vanna’s cheerful cry: - A family reunion before our very eyes! Yay! You’re the best daddy ever! - At that, the man shoved the cigarette back into his pack and dashed into the tent.
- You’re the best damn family therapist, — Evelyn said wryly.
- You know it! — Vanna beamed, flushed with
As they walked beyond the fairgrounds, chatting about the first scene they’d just filmed, Evelyn made an announcement:
- Congrats, folks! We did it! All the footage is right — She patted the camera like a newborn.
- YIHAAA! Hell yeah! — The crew erupted with joy, and Peyota hollered: