Stalking the Average Man
-Most of my clients call after their sessions, to better understand the principles of building
their future, but I won‘t have the time to deal with them. If you would agree to bring them up to
speed, so they can make informed decisions, we wouldn‘t be pandering. They‘d be better off,
and our screenplay will be better because you'll know first- hand what readings can do for people.
What do you think? |
-You‘d be risking my charisma starting a religion. |
-Your impatience guarantees followers wouldn‘t last. | She grinned.
Bonnie subsequently schmoozed me into familiarizing her clients with concepts from
readings that I learned had sometimes taken her five hours, and they still didn‘t get it.
With that out of the way, Bonnie said she was going to make whatever arrangements she
could make to better her financial position, then she quit her full time job to become a full time
psychic reader and teacher. This decision included advertising Saturday morning gatherings as
classes in The Way To Live. Admission would be free, but she would pass the hat while I
became the inbound customer service representative, after the fact.
Grudgingly, I was again impressed by how far she was willing to go to research her work.
That said, after calculating the minimum number of readings she would need to live it again
crossed my mind that she might have lost hers.
No matter… my end was secure. Hell, I could write the whole thing if I had to.
Bonnie rerouted a call from a client later that same day, and I was pleasantly surprised to
discover that I could flatten concepts, and integrate aspects of diverse premises, to satisfy most
of her questions. I say most, because my answers invariably gave rise to new questions, and I
soon had to explain that I was Bonnie‘s writing partner, not a psychic. After a second call forced
the same issue, I phoned Bonnie to tell her to pass on my circumstance to her clients. The next
evening, I learned that she had done both in practice and neither by design:
She had told Rochelle Fletcher-Smythe that I was researching the practical applications of
mystical disciplines for a screenplay. In this capacity, I was knowledgeable about cause and
effect beyond what was commonly apparent to others. She also said that I was attuned to the
abstract; I could align earthly and ethereal clues to see around corners, and I had been doing this
since long before I met Bonnie. So said Mrs. Fletcher-Smythe.
Because of Bonnie‘s non-disclaimer, call- me -Rochelle-darling wanted new answers to
replace the ones she didn‘t like, which quickly forced me to be curt when I referred her back to
Bonnie for that kind of information. With a wonderfully executed quiver in her voice, Rochelle-
darling said Bonnie had warned her that I was eager to display my intellectual prowess, but I was
reluctant to acknowledge my metaphysical gifts. Rochelle then pleaded for help; important
people were coming over, and she couldn't wait for Bonnie to come home to answer a few
simple questions. She would pay full fare for my reading. Money was no object.
I couldn‘t accept the money, but I had made a promise, so I asked Rochelle what Bonnie
had specifically said about socializing that puzzled her. Instantly tearless, she gave me a detailed
version of one aspect of her reading, adding a blow by blow account of her feelings should I
somehow fail to realize she had been verbally assaulted: Rochelle didn't understand how the time
she got out of bed mattered in the grand scheme of things.
I understood that Bonnie had focused on the downward spiral of arrogance, and that Rocky,
to her close friends, was asking for an off-the-shelf fix—preferably, something her house staff