Learning Something Only Dead Men Know

Justine has clandestinely gone to the the home of the blind fortune teller, only to to have Betsy follow her surreptitiously to the entrance of his house, begging her to return past the door that has seemingly opened of itself upon being told to come in, even as she herself crosses the threshold after her.

Betsy:  Pl-please–don’t do this!  (The pair both snap their heads up to see the Fortune Teller clunking down the stairs with his staff.)
Fortune Teller, cackling:  I’m coming, my lovelies! 

You may think I know nothing ’bout anything,
But you’d be quite surprised at what my sources bring. 
At this, reaching them, he jams a bony finger right in her nervous face, smiling triumphantly, even as Betsy, terrified, clutching her friend’s back, looks on.
You, my girl, hunger for every single finer thing
And just like every woman, you a-crave the sting!
At this point, his pointy finger turns into an open palm, upon which, after doing a double-take, Justine gets the hint, and deftly proceeds to grease it.

Fortune Teller, happily counting his largess:  Now I’ll give what I’ve got until I got no more
Ghostly Chorus: Uh huh.  (At this, Betsy starts edging towards the open exit behind them.)
I take what I get until I even the score  (At this, he holds up a coin, running his hands over it.)
Now you know I’m a merchant, and further more
At this, the Fortune Teller seems to have spied the sneaking-off Betsy, and proceeds to give her his full attention.
When it’s time to go you got an open door!  (At this, sparks erupt from behind his glasses, the door slams shut, and Betsy starts, petrified, as the Fortune Teller proceeds to amble her way….)

Poor Betsy, practically wailing:  Please, Justine–we’ve gotta go!
Fortune Teller, coldly:  Not before she sees what I show!
Betsy, desperately, as he’s right on top of her, even as Justine looks on impassively:  Please Justine–we gotta go!  (She utterly cringes as he brings his hand down upon her.)
Fortune Teller, gleefully:  Not before finding out something only dead men know!  
And with that, he rubs his knuckles into her skull, causing her to wince and look up, surprised at his gentleness, only to find an open palm awaiting her.

Betsy, appearing apprehensive:  You want…
Fortune teller, beaming:  Uh huh.
Betsy, even more awkward:  Money…
Fortune Teller, beaming a little less:  Yep
Betsy, becoming nervous again:  You want…
Fortune teller, starting to frown:  Uh huh…
There’s an awkward silence as Betsy fishes around in her pockets, with the Fortune Teller’s look becoming ever more stormy.
Betsy, timidly:  I don’t–
At this, sparks again erupt from the corner of the glasses, as he starts jamming his finger into her chest, causing her to start backing up.

Fortune Teller, angrily:  Honest as the next jade rolling that stone,

You come a-knockin’, yet you throw me no bone?
I’m a dirty old badger, yet you’ve come to my home,  (At this point, Betsy has now backed into the door, sandwiched between it and the Bishop.
And if you don’t like it, you should’ve left me alone!
At this, the terrified Betsy, trembling shuts her eyes as his hand again comes towards her, this time with true menace, or at least until Justine catches it.   
Justine, cold and firm:  Uh…she’s with me.
Fortune Teller, genuinely surprised:  Oh?  You mean she doesn’t want her fortune…?  
At this, Justine just nods, to which he just shrugs his shoulders and moves on, much to Betsy’s s sighing relief, motioning them to follow him to the fireplace, which they do.  Once there, he starts making passes at it with his hands, causing it to seeth, twist, and grow to his touch.

Fortune Teller, plucking a flame:  Seems the man in your future has one hell of a past 
It’s a closeup as he holds it up to Justine’s face, transforming itself into the fiery image of a teenage boy as he does so, causing her to grap in wonder.
And the day of his arrival is a-comin’ on fast (She gasps again as the image smiles at her.)
And I’d stop complaining over what I’ve got
Seems he’s faded with time (at this, he waves the flaming image away, even as it scowls back at him) but who has not?  (At this, the Fortune Teller turns ruefully to the camera.)

Betsy, pleadingly tugging on Justine:  Please, Justine–we’ve gotta go!
View of the Fortune Teller, gazing into the heart of the fire, with the girls standing behind him.
Fortune Teller, not looking up:  Did ever say that I was done with the show?
Betsy, tugging againat an unresponsive Justine:  Please Justine–we gotta go!
Fortune Teller, laughing:  But she’s not finished learning what dead men know!  
At this, he turns again to face them, satisfied the flame will say all they’re going to…for now, and the n proceeds to pin a shocked Justine next to and below the fireplace’s mantle.


The Fortune Teller, seriously:  Now I can tell your fancy I can tell your plain (He stamps his staff, shaking the whole building, including an ornate vanity mirror glinting ornately next to the ledge of the mantle. 
Ghostly Chorus:  Uh huh.
You give something up for ev’rything you gain
 (His staff is stamped again, as a quick cut to the mirror shows it shake once more.)
Ghostly Chorus:  Come on.
Just know ev’ry pleasure’s got an edge of pain (Another stamp and another cut to the mirror, causing it to wobble still more violently.)
Ghostly Chorus:  That’s right.
And you paid your own ticket, so don’t complain!  
He stamps it again, causing the mirror to fall…snugly into Justine’s waistband.  Justine’s too busy staring into the fortune Teller’s glasses to look, but she starts to grope for whatever it is that lodged there with her left hand, but not before he picks her and Betsy up by the collar, and tosses them out onto his porch, leaving them equally stunned.
Ghostly Chorus:  Whoooo, whoooo!

Fortune Teller, shoving his head out the window, again catching them by surprise:  Now remember…
It’ll be one of these days (and it won’t be long)
I’m just playing with fire as I sing my song
But I sang it loud and I sang it strong

Let the events decide if I was right or wrong!
At this, he raises his darkened glasses to reveal roaring flames pouring out his eye socket, compelling them to scramble pell mell back home.

The Fortune Teller, calling goodbye after them:  Farewell, my friends, and thanks for the gold–
In time you’ll recall what you’ve been told!
Betsy, taking his words after the as all the reason to vamoose:  Quick Justine–we gotta go!
Justine, annoyed, but still hustling:  Just tell me something that I don’t know!

And at this, the camera pans in to the vanity mirror, again glinting, lodged into the back of her waist sash, before fading to black….

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