T: I’ve just had a vision.
T: No, really.
T: Would you stop that?
S: Well it’s just that…
S: Well, I mean, skepticism and all that aside, aren’t you supposed to have visions?
T: How do you mean?
S: You’re a Fortune Teller.
T: No, I’m not.
S: I’m confused.
T: Are you?
S: Aren’t I sitting in a Fortune Teller’s tent?
S: And aren’t you the one in the purple robes…?
S: …who took my six dollars?
S: So you see then…
T: But I’m an accountant.
S: Odd work clothes, then.
T: No. I am an accountant. But I do the fortune telling at these fairs.
T: Everyone needs a hobby.
S: Still, you took my six dollars.
T: You paid to get into the fair but you knew the knights and the royalty were pretend.
S: Fair enough.
T: Back to the issue at hand.
S: You’ve had a vision.
S: Of what.
S: Could you be more specific?
T: It’s not good.
S: I think I can handle it.
T: You don’t believe me do you?
S: Not as such.
T: Why not?
S: Aside from the admission that you’re more qualified to do my taxes than to tell my fortune?
T: That’s harsh.
T: Is that the only reason?
S: Well, no. It’s just that…
T: Go on.
S: This all seems like an act.
T: Does it?
S: Oh, quite. You can see that I don’t believe, so you tailor the show by admitting your fraud except for this one time.
S: Don’t be like that. I appreciate the writing.
S: Of the script. It’s better than some.
T: Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?
S: Let’s go with compliment––the glass is half full and all that.
S: So what was the vision?
T: I’m sorry?
S: The vision, which you assure me is real. What was it?
T: If you don’t believe in fortunes why did you come in?
S: I imagine many of your clients don’t believe.
T: True. But if they pay their six dollars they’re generally game to play along.
S: So you’re saying I’m a poor sport?
T: Not at all. It’s just that skeptics tend to keep their distance. Heckle from outside the tent as it were.
S: Makes sense.
T: Well then?
T: Why did you come in?
S: For a fortune.
T: But, in light of your lack of imagination…
S: Oh. I’d rather not.
T: Rather not?
S: It’s a little…
S: Juvenile was more the word I was thinking.
T: Now I’m intrigued.
S: I’d still rather not.
T: I revealed my secret…
S: What secret?
T: I’m an accountant. Do you think I tell just anyone?
S: It’s just…
S: Alright. I thought you looked rather fetching in the purple robes and the scarves and such.
T: And so you thought that if you came in…?
S: I said it was juvenile.
T: I’m not going to argue with you.
S: Oh, stop smirking.
S: So what was this premonition?
T: You’re changing the subject.
S: No I’m not. Well, OK I am. But I’m changing it back to the original subject.
T: So you are.
S: That should count for something.
T: In your book, maybe.
S: I asked you to stop smirking.
T: But I didn’t agree.
S: Are you sure you’re not a lawyer?
S: So you said.
T: Back to business…
S: Right, the premonition…
T: That’s not what I meant.
S: Well isn’t that the business? Six dollars and all…
T: Suddenly, you seem rather flustered…
S: And suddenly you don’t.
T: Funny how things work.
S: So what happens now?
T: I think you have a question to ask.
S: Do you?
T: I told you, I have visions.
Better Left Unspoken
T: I’ve just had a vision.