Divine Intervention

One day at my job, I was faced with two very unhappy store guests. The night before, they had been kicked out of one of our other locations, due to the fact that the store was closing and they weren't buying anything. It wasn't done rudely, but these two very special people were offended that they were no longer able to loiter and not spend any money at 10 p.m.

My friend Katie and I found ourselves trying to talk the couple off a ledge.

"WE WERE SO UPSET THAT WE WERE KICKED OUT!" the husband said.

"Yeah," the wife chimed in, "we couldn't believe how rude they were."

I figured that their perceptions had to have been warped, due to the way these two presented themselves. I'm a firm believer in appearances making a statement about yourself. And the statement these two made was that they were crazy people.

The woman was wearing clashing purples on top and bottom, all made of polyester. She was shaped like a teapot: Short and stout. And she wouldn't stop talking out of her spout. Her hair was big and frizzy, like Marge's sisters from the Simpsons.

Her husband was a wreck, too. About 6' 3", he and his beer gut towered over me. He was wearing a bandanna to cover his greasy hair and his leather biker gear was just terrible.

They appreciated mine and Katie's kindness, however. "You guys have been so nice to us," said the man.

His wife added, "Katie, some day, you'll find a nice boy. And Corey, some day, you'll find a nice girl."

...What?

Okay, first of all, what made them think we were single? And second, had I opened my mouth at all during that conversation? Did they not see the purse fall out?

It wasn't exactly comforting to hear this from these two rejects. Even if I do find this "nice girl," where is "she?" Let's stop kidding ourselves: Where is he?

Maybe I shouldn't worry about it. Obviously, if these idiots found each other, I'm bound to find someone sooner or later, right? Someone who's not gonna lead me on, or someone who'll say things that'll make me feel special and actually mean them.

These people came back to the store a few weeks later. And they keep coming back, I assume, in order to haunt me. But this second time I encountered them, the wife and I had a conversation which creeps me out to this day:

"Hey, Corey, long time no see! How's life been?"

"Um, good," I replied, not knowing where this train of thought was going.

"Oh, that's great! My powers are working," the wife cheered.

My jaw dropped. "Um, excuse me? Your 'powers?'"

"Yeah, I used my magic powers on you! I made it so you'll only have good days 'cause you were so nice to us!"

"...'Powers?'"

"Yeah, I didn't tell you I had powers?"

"I think I'd remember if you had magic powers... That's not something you forget."

"Corey, I'm a medium... and a witch," she confessed.

This bitch cursed me, I'm sure of it. But I feel okay about it, 'cause her husband was hitting on my coworker 3 feet away.

"Do you like my Harley Davidson tattoo?" he asked. "It's still drying, and it'll only last for a week, but it's AWESOME."