Better Left Unspoken

T:     I’ve just had a vision.
S:     Uh-huh.
T:     No, really.
S:     Uh-huh.
T:     Would you stop that?
S:     Well it’s just that…
T:     What?
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?
T:     Yes.
S:     And aren’t you the one in the purple robes…?
T:     Yes.
S:     …who took my six dollars?
T:     Yes.
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.
S:     Why?
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.
T:     Yes.
S:     Of what.
T:     You.
S:     Could you be more specific?
T:     It’s not good.
S:     No?
T:     No.
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.
S:     Apologies.
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.
T:     Hmm…
S:     Don’t be like that. I appreciate the writing.
T:     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.
T:     …
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?
S:     What?
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…
T:     Embarrassing?
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…
T:     Yes?
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.
T:     Apologies.
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?
T:     Accountant.
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.

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