The Fake Fortune Teller

In a small town called Boomer Lane, Klarisse was broke. Her rent was late, her fridge was empty, and her cat, Dingdeng, gave her a dirty look every time she opened the food cabinet.

“I told you to get a job,” Dingdeng seemed to say.

Klarisse sighed. “You’re a cat. Stop judging me.”

She had tried everything—baking cookies (they came out like bricks), selling handmade soap (which turned people’s skin blue), and babysitting (until a toddler glued her eyebrows together).

Then, one night while watching a TV show about fortune tellers, she had an idea.

“I can do that!” she said out loud.

Dingdeng blinked slowly.

“Okay, I can’t actually see the future,” Klarisse admitted, “but who cares? I’ll fake it! Just for a little while… enough to pay the bills.”

She grabbed her old bedsheet, cut it into a turban, borrowed some scented candles from her neighbor, and stole a snow globe from her cousin’s house.

Boom! Fortune Teller Klarisse was born.

The next morning, she made a sign:

“Madam Klarisse – Sees All, Knows All (Cash Only)”

To her surprise, people came. A lot of people.

First was a man named Dave.

“I want to know if I’ll get a promotion,” he said nervously.

Klarisse waved her hands dramatically over the snow globe. “I see... a coffee machine… and a stapler… and… yes! You will become… the boss of the paper clips!”

Dave blinked. “Uh… okay?”

He left looking confused. Klarisse counted her money and grinned.

The next client was a woman named Auntie Marge.

“Will my cat ever love me?” she asked.

Klarisse stared into the globe. “The cat says… maybe if you stop dressing him like a pineapple.”

Tita Marge gasped. “You can talk to my cat!”

“Of course,” Klarisse said proudly. “I’m fluent in Meow.”

Soon, people were lining up. Klarisse gave them vague predictions like:

– “A surprise will come from something round.”

– “You will eat rice this week.”

– “Avoid any man wearing polka dots.”

But then, something strange happened.

Dave, the stapler guy, ran back to her tent the next day, out of breath.

“You were right!” he cried. “My boss retired, and they put me in charge of the supply room!”

“Congratulations!” Klarisse said, shocked.

Next, Auntie Marge returned, holding her cat with tears in her eyes.

“He purred for the first time! I think he forgave me!”

“Oh… wow,” Klarisse said, sweating. “That’s… totally expected.”

One by one, more people came back saying her predictions were coming true.

“I found a coin under my couch after you said ‘round surprise!’”

“I avoided a man in polka dots, and later I heard he was selling fake vitamins!”

“I did eat rice this week!”

Klarisse started panicking.

“Why is this happening?” she whispered to Dingdeng.

Dingdeng flicked his tail like a wizard.

“No. Don’t say I have real powers,” Klarisse whispered.

But it got worse. People started asking real questions.

“Will I find true love?”

“Should I invest in banana stocks?”

“Where’s my missing left shoe?”

She tried to escape. She told everyone she was on vacation. But they found her in the supermarket.

“Madam Klarisse! What do the bananas say today?”

“They say… eat me?” Klarisse answered.

Soon, a reporter came to her tent.

“Is it true you predicted a goat would break into the town mayor’s office?”

“I was joking!” Klarisse cried.

“But it really happened!”

“Oh no…”

Then came the day Klarisse dreaded. A man walked in, tall, serious, wearing black.

“I’m Officer Dela Cruz,” he said. “We need your help.”

Klarisse gulped. “Help… with what?”

“There’s a missing cake. Wedding cake. Huge. Four layers. Gone.”

Klarisse stared. “You called me for cake?”

“It’s an emergency,” he said. “The bride’s mother is threatening to flip the whole table.”

Klarisse closed her eyes and waved her hands over the snow globe.

“I see… frosting… and… a teenager with icing on his nose… and… a trampoline.”

The officer wrote it all down.

Klarisse chuckled as he left. “There’s no way they’ll find anything with that.”

Three hours later, she got a call.

“You were right,” said Officer Dela Cruz. “The bride’s cousin stole the cake and bounced over a fence on a trampoline. You’re amazing!”

Klarisse dropped her phone. “What the fudge.”

Now the mayor himself wanted to meet her.

“Madam Klarisse, please join the City Council as our official advisor.”

Klarisse smiled politely. “Oh no no no no no.”

She tried to run away again, but her fans followed her.

They brought her food, gifts, and weird items like a stuffed armadillo and a glow-in-the-dark toothbrush “blessed by her powers.”

One day, a man arrived with a chicken in a sweater.

“Madam Klarisse, does Chikchik have a future in dance?”

Klarisse blinked. “Uh… yes. I see… ballet slippers and… a golden egg.”

The man wept with joy. Chikchik did a weird spin.

Another day, a grandma burst into her tent.

“My grandson won’t shower! Can you curse him with endless itching until he uses soap?”

“Ma’am,” Klarisse said, “I predict a strong smell in your future. Try Mr. Clean.”

That night, she stood in her kitchen, crying into a jar of peanut butter.

“I just wanted to pay the bills!” she sobbed. “Not become a prophet!”

Dingdeng looked smug.

Then, a knock came at the door.

It was a man in a red sweater holding a pizza.

“I’m Carlo,” he said. “You predicted I’d meet someone today wearing mismatched socks. That’s me. Look.”

He lifted his pant legs. One sock was yellow, the other had ducks.

Klarisse stared. “Okay, but… how do you know it’s me you’re supposed to meet?”

“I don’t,” he said. “But… do you like pizza?”

She blinked. “Is that pineapple?”

“Yes.”

“I hate pineapples.”

“Good,” Carlo said. “It’s mine. Get your own.”

She laughed for the first time in days.

Maybe it wasn’t all bad.

Maybe Klarisse wasn’t magical. Maybe the universe just had a weird sense of humor.

Maybe she’d keep her job just a little longer.

But only if they let her predict things while eating pizza.

With Dingdeng.

And then came a loud “Tiktilaoook!”

“Wait—why is Chikchik here?!”