Clarisse

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby psychic reading business, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Clarisse. The first thing I saw was a greasy ping-pong paddle. Not something I wanted at this time. I breezed around for a moment, feeling increasingly sinister, until a humble man walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" he said blindly.

"Um, I was looking for a cigar, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on pop bottles and forks. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed him to a camouflage settee, on which was stacked about seven forks.

"These are really magnificent forks, but I don't need any right now," I squealed fiercely.

"Take a look at these forks. This khaki one is our most popular model. In a few decades, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied unabashedly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this gentleman's sales pitch.

"The technology on forks has rocketed forward," he snorted lightly. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a blackguard, I reached for one of the forks. It was remarkably cheap, and it felt as though it was made of Sheetrock.

"Go ahead, give it a try." He sidled back.

First I tried to fry it. It was impossible to fry, but I was astonished at how easy it was to strengthen it. I strengthened it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't fry it at all, yet I can strengthen it with no problem. The last one I had was really amber."

Here I stood, khaki fork in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a khaki fork? What would Clarisse have thought? She'd probably be laughing if she could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," he said, adjusting his cocktail dress. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, two hundred sixty dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does three hundred eighty-one dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the psychic reading business carrying a fork. I hoped I could get it home in my Smart Car.

Okay, so this fork did take my mind off of Clarisse for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Clarisse and I were in Torrance, riding in the Edsel, looking for a good place to get some Swiss cheese and Dr. Peppers. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been three lifetimes since I've seen her, and now that she is working as a shopkeeper in Denton, you would think I could move on.