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The Importance of Being Wiggly
Qu'Ennui was on the lanai, watering the mordantia. Her seven cats mewled piteously, so she throw them a blossom, which they fought over. The Alpha cat swatted the rest away and gobbled it up for himself.
Qu'Ennui went back inside her apartment and flipped the switch that would illuminate the neon sign on the outside of the building that said "Tarot Reader, Extraordinaire." It was a fine neon sign, bright blue. As soon as the sign lit up, the doorbell rang.
"Customer!" Qu'Ennui burbled. She shuffled to the door.
Her apartment was small, the walls draped with heavy fabric of diverse patterns and textures. In one corner, she'd formed a tent with a thick blue drape, the blue fabric being covered with discreet gold stars. Under the tent was a small marble-topped table and two Empire-style chairs featuring motifs of lotus flowers on their backs. Atop the table were a deck of tarot cards, a burning red candle, and a Memphis teapot with two cups. She was ready for business.
Qu'Ennui was in drapes herself, dressed in a long-flowing scarlet robes tied at the waist with a silver cord. All manner of silver jewelry dripped from her, earrings, rings on every finger and one thumb, bracelets. Her pendants were a cacophony of symbols hanging from silver or black cords: an ankh, a pentagram, a hexagram, a cross, a moon, a sun, an orb, a bell, and a tiny dagger. She tinkled and jangled as she walked. She was a weathered-looking woman of indiscriminate middle age, her blue-black hair braided sloppily and coiled at the nape of her neck.
As she pulled the door open, the Lacrimosa from Mozart's Requiem swelled from her stereo. She stood in the door, the music and dragon's blood incense swirling around her.
"Good afternoon," she said, and then recognizing one of her more frequent customers, added, "Colan," which was his name.
Colan squirmed before his guru. His sad blue eyes stared up at her in veneration. He was a malnourished young man, dressed in torn jeans and a black T-shirt. His choppy blond hair was covered in a black bandana tied in a gypsy-grunge sort of a gesture. A tiny dagger dangled from his left ear.
"Come in," Qu'Ennui said and turned. "I'll make you a sandwich." For it was probable he hadn't eaten that day.
Colan came in and sat down on the floor, where he played with the cats. A few minutes later, Qu'Ennui returned with a cheese sandwich. Colan devoured it almost instanteously as she handed it to him. She went into her tent and began to pour the tea.
"I have no money," Colan said as he sat on one of the lotus-back chairs.
He hardly needed to say that anymore. Qu'Ennui simply nodded. "All right," she replied. They had a long-standing arrangement about his payment for services anyway.
She gave him the cards to shuffle. Colan removed his shoes first before he shuffled the cards. The sounds of the Requiem accompanied the sounds of the cards.
Qu'Ennui took the shuffled deck back and began to lay out the cards. "Ah, the Sun. And here is the Street Urchin of Desire. And the Wiggly Man. Beware of soup kitchens."
Colan moved his foot, stretching his leg under the table, and delicately plunged the foot up Qu'Ennui's robes.
"The Wiggly Man is the godhead. He is Cannon. Although an obvious target, large in a bright orange polyester shirt, five men can fire guns at him and none will harm him. He has the supernatural powers of a Quinn-Martin production. If you set him on fire, he will not burn. His power is the knowledge of righteousness and of Peking Duck."
She turned over another card. "Oh, dear, the Wiggly Man is crossed by the Ten of Sausages. Beware of Geminis. They bear mindfucks."
Colan's toes wriggled in their new nest. Qu'Ennui whimpered happily.
"You, dear Colan, are in a position to manifest as the Wiggly Man. Trust your intrinsic knowledge. You will be protected by a polyester aura. If you trust your inner voice, you can go forth and --" A particularly delightful foot attack caused Qu'Ennui to shriek. "--CONQUER!"
A sudden mutual lunge by the two nearly tore the drapery down. As they rolled
over Qu'Ennui's floor in the throes of their spiritual consultation, Qu'Ennui's
cats scattered for cover. After a long frenzied trek to enlightenment, they
peaked, mystically, and rolled over, each self-satisfied with the divine.
Qu'Ennui arose, smoothed out her robes, and poured herself another cup of tea. Colan arose afterwards and lurched into the bathroom.
The doorbell rang then.
"Customer!"
Colan re-emerged from the bathroom, zipping up his jeans.
Qu'Ennui opened the door and greeted the tailored-looking women standing there. "Come in, come in, Mrs. Equitaine," she said bustling the woman inside. "Would you have some tea?"
"Oh, you have another client?" Mrs. Equitaine said, her starched eyebrows arching.
"Oh, we just finished our little consultation. Let me just see him to the door while you get settled."
Qu'Ennui guided Colan to the door. She put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I trust our little session was beneficial?"
Colan smiled and looked at his guru with veneration. He wiggled away, happy as a cat with a mordantia blossom.
Qu'Ennui sighed deeply before turning to resume her business.
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