The Oracle as an Infallible Prophet on Something

The Oracle as an Infallible Prophet on Something
Norman A. Rubin

"Wal' the Oracle was a gipsy woman who advertised herself on the sign tacked up on the outside wall to her hocus pocus parlor 'Natasha, the Oracle' – Fortune Telling, Foretelling the Future and Divination – by appointment... '' chattered the Old Major to a pack of old duffers, eight in all, sitting around the warm barrel stove in Lem's General store. “She went with the name as Natasha Rasputin, but her real moniker was Sarah Cohen, Brooklyn born.



"The woman was certainly dressed like a gipsy. Colorful voluptuous dresses, a red dotted kerchief wound around her dyed hair, gold loop earrings dangling from her ear lobes silver and gold thin bracelets on her wrists, assortment of rings on her fingers and around her neck hung a heavy chain with large medallion of a Tibetan mantra. Her faced was plastered with light brown makeup to make her look like a gipsy and also to cover up her wrinkles. When she spoke to clients she affected a Roum accent; and when she called upon her other self, her guide and mentor, an Indian princess named Ashana, she affected a Far Eastern accent.

The Old Major continued his spiel, “Her oracle studio where she did her hocus pocus was in the center of the nearby town of Meadows; the studio was dimmed so she could hide all her gadgets under the table like the one with sound of feet when she
called her phantom Indian princess. And, of course, there was the shining crystal ball centered on a white cloth on a small table between her and the client.

"Natasha, the oracle was quite well known, far and wide, as most of her future predictions rang true for the individual client. You had to make an appointment to the fifteen minute séance; one reason was that she had to have time to tap on her laptop to find information on a specific client. Her fee was quite exorbitant, fifty dollars a
session, and many suckers were glad to pay that fee.

"Then one day a client named Casper Dogoody made an appointment to hear of his future. In plain English he was henpecked and that his wife Zelda nagged him to make the arrangements. But Natasha's laptop had little to say about the old boy. He was married to Zelda, a buxom lass, daughter of the widower Mr. Sibhan, a fishmonger by trade; he was employed as bookkeeper in a firm of lawyers, nearing the time of the golden watch; and he was a good church (Methodist) member and even sang in the church choir. His social life was zilch except he was a lodge member in the Elk's fraternity, meeting once a month. In plain English Casper was a nobody of importance.

The Old Major continued his speechification, “Wal' the appointment time came about. When the chimes rang out announcing him, it automatically put on a record, a Bach organ recording, to the set the mood in that darkened parlor. Natasha pressed an electric button and slowly the door creaked open and in stepped Casper Dogoody, 'Do sit down', intoned the gipsy in an eerie voice.

“Casper moved his diminutive well dressed figure to the chair before the little table in front of the clairvoyant. Timidity was written on his narrow chinless face. He held his hands on the band of his fedora twitching it nervously. Then he sat down cautiously on the offered chair.

"To make a long story short,” grumbled the Old Major, “The soothsayer used her best cards with a hocus pocus. She called upon her Indian Princess and changed her accent. Well the Indian princess with an old standby that he was coming into a fortune and that he must buy a ticket to the state lottery. Thus ended the brief fifteen sessions.

"When Casper Dogoody left the premises he scratched his wispy salt and pepper hair what was left of it in indecision before doffing his fedora. He was flabbergasted as he didn't gamble, even one cent; he certainly didn't know how to buy a ticket. Suddenly he spotted a kiosk selling tickets to the state lottery and he walked bravely towards it.
He mumbled to the clerk he wanted to buy a lottery ticket. The man simply took a batch of tickets spread on the counter and told Casper to pick one. Nervously he chose one and paid the clerk his due.

"Wal' the draw for the state lottery came about in a couple of weeks or so. Lo and behold Casper Dogoody won a share of the third prize amounting to $13,445.09. Zelda his overweight wife ran about the chirping away, 'We won the 3rd place on the draw, Tra la lah, Trala dee'. Zelda knew how to spend the lucre without a murmur of protest from Casper.

"Time went quickly by and Casper was nagged again by Zelda to go to the fortune teller. Zelder was a head taller than Casper and with a stern look to her face that the henpecked chap couldn't protest. So he gave in and made an appointment with the oracle.

"At the appointed time Casper Dogoody stepped silently into the fortune teller's lair; Bach organ music was playing a bit loud with only the crystal ball shining the darkened room. Casper slipped cautiously in the chair before the gipsy woman and whispered timidly he wanted her to tell his prophecy of the future. Off course Natasha
didn't have further information on Casper Dogoody, except he shared the 3rd prize in the state lottery. "So she called upon the Indian Princess and with a Far Eastern
accent she mouthed the words of her ghostly mentor; she manipulated the walking gadget to indicate the Indian Princess's arrival. The crystal ball dimmed and an eerie voice called, 'Who calls me from my resting place, Natasha changed her voice to a Roum accent and told the royal one that Casper Dogoody wanted to know his future prophecy.

"The Indian Princess gave the prophecy in a slow eerie voice - “Casper Dogoody you will hear bells clanging and you will bump into a fortune.” The voice slipped away slowly and then the Crystal Ball lit up, leaving Casper pondering his future prophecy.

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“A week passed by when Casper Dogoody was called to the office of the head honcho of the lawyer's firm where he worked. He was handed a manila envelope to deliver to a client post haste. Casper was given cab fare and the taxi was waiting for him at the entrance to the building.

“When Casper finished his errand in good time, he found the taxi to take him back to his firm was nowhere in sight, In his timidity he was prone to asked the receptionist to telephone  for another one, so he had to walk.

"When he neared a bank he saw three men, guns drawn, running out of the premises with alarms bells clanging. Casper was absorbed with the scene that he bumped into the robber carrying the loot in a satchel bag. The bandit was off balance, fell down on the hard pavement, and cracked his skull.  'Oh my, oh my' Casper said nervously and knelt down to the robber and extended his apologies; he tried to help him to his feet. The two other robbers, desperate to make a quick getaway, tried to pull him off their pal. Somehow an automatic handgun found its way in Casper's hand. When the villains pulled him away from their pal somehow the pistol was pointed trembling at them, what could the villains do, so they raised the hand above their heads and yelled,
'Don't shoot!'

"Casper Dogoody was frozen in stance with the wavering gun pointed towards the villains. Sirens wailed and the law men arrived and relieved Casper of his vigilante mission. 'Oh my, Oh my,' Casper cried softly in a timid voices as he thought he was going to be arrested for the fracas. But no, he was a hero. Reporters came and barraged him with questions; Photos were taken. Rewards were given to him from the bank and from the local authorities for the capture of the bank robbers. He was a hero all right and he talked back to Zelda, for the first time. He put his foot down and said, No more fortune telling for me!',

"When the ruckus died down it signaled a normal life for Casper and Zelda, And as for the Natasha the Oracle she was not to be found; some say when she heard of the Casper's heroism she became a bit tetched. Her hocus pocus parlor was empty with the gadgets, the Bach record, the crystal ball and the computer removed. A sign 'To Let' replaced the one 'Natasha the Oracle.....'

 

Norman A. Rubin is an American citizen, studied writing at Wolsley
Hall, England - and makes his home in Afula - Former correspondent
for the Continental News Service, USA, now retired. Free-lance writer
for the past twenty years writing on various subjects - Near East
culture and crafts, archaeology, fantasy; religious history and rites,
travel mainly historical, coinage, a bit of politics, etc.. Norman A.
Rubin has been featured in publications world wide and on Net sites.
See ‘yahoo.com’, ‘google.com' under his name for a review of his
written work.

*This story will appear in the March 2013 issue of Authored By Schrödinger's Cat*