the magic eight ball

running low on invisible
ink, you browse
through the magic
store with your shopping
cart. you pick up
a new pair of x-ray
vision glasses,
having worn out
the other pair
when you moved into
the high rise building
downtown.
you get a box of
licorice gum,
some red hot pepper
candies
and a hand buzzer,
but then you see
a magic eight ball,
black with a big
number eight on
the glass. you
shake it and ask
if you are going to be
rich and famous
one day. doubtful,
it says in a
floating circle
of letters. pffft.
you say.
will I fall in love
again, you ask,
this time shaking it
vigorously before looking
at the answer.
try again, it reads.
you give it another
shake. is there really
a God, you whisper,
not wanting to
offend God, not
enough information,
it reads back.
then you hear the
store manager yell
from the front of
store. hey, hey.
put that thing down.
either buy it or get
out of here.