Cranky Large Medium reading, 20 September

Go away.

Go on, then, go on out of here. Scram. Get along, little dogie. Skedaddle. Scat. Scoot. Shoo. Why are you still here? Is there no sense of decency in you, that you would stay around to torture an old, tired medium? How cruel can you be? Apparently, very. So. How do I get rid of you? I give you a reading? That's it? Why didn't you jump in earlier with that answer, so I could be rid of you that much sooner? For crying out loud! Let's work on this, now. Here you are:

You are completely unique, thank goodness! You always do the unexpected, in an unusual manner. Your mother may have told you that it was cute when you were a tot, but the novelty of that conduct does wear thin over time. You like to hang around with the "cultured" set; I suggest you carry fungicide when you do. You like to be the center of attention, and can be led by the person who recognizes this trait in you, making you the easiest of marks.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Allow me to devote all my attention to you, to alleviate that pain. I can do just that, if you'll meet me in the tavern down at the base of the mountain. Or not. You can wait there, can't you? If you can't, at least I know you know you can leave on your own. That puts you one up on these people, all of whom, on this date in history, left this neighborhood on twelve legs and a hearse chassis: Wovoka, Fiorello La Guardia, Ludvík Svoboda, Nicolas Desmarest, Leopold Fitzinger, Paul Erdős, John Ballard, Jacob Grimm, Gilles Binchois, Lodovico Agostini, Claudio Saracini, Pablo de Sarasate, Steve Goodman, Jean Sibelius, Gordon Mitchell, Richie Ginther, Robert Emmet, Sir Thomas Hardy, Philander Chase, Annie Besant, William Buehler Seabrook, Eduard Wirths, Raisa Gorbachyova, Gherman Titov, Simon Wiesenthal,

and Jim Croce.

You don't tug on the medium's wrap. The world can't handle that.
Happy birthday, anyway.