Crystal Baws: November 2013 Horoscopes
This month God breaks millennia of silence to speak directly to you, telling you that he thinks you probably have schizophrenia and you should get some help.
Attending a 'tea picnic' hosted by Russian spies you suspect foul play after they spike your drink with polonium-210. Collapsing, you gasp for air and accidentally suck a bee off a daisy. In defence it stings you on the tongue which, combined with the radioactive power, turns you into BEE MAN! Weeks later, fighting your first crime, you sting an escaping mugger and tear your own arse out. Slowly bleeding to death on the pavement you crawl around in circles saying “bzzzzzzzzz” with your human mouth, wishing there was a boot big enough to finish you off, although realistically you were going to die off in winter anyway.
This month you have full sex with an adult female.
Cancer rules the limbs, often leaving the rest of your body starved of blood and nutrients. Your rippling arms and legs seem somehow out of place on your wrinkled, emaciated torso.
In November your 3rd House of Love burns down completely after you fall asleep smoking a cigarette in a dream.
You like your sex like you like your movies: two hours long and genuinely frightening.
You find the editor of the listings magazine you’ve been writing for has been unusually lenient about the borderline misogynistic, obscene, nauseating and ill-advised little column you write with your disabled thumb-like retarded little girl fingers.
This month you are passed files by a whistleblower documenting the unimaginable atrocities committed by the A-Team in Vietnam. The shocking images show Face, grinning and eating a human heart while standing in front of hundreds of skinned bodies; Murdoch making balloon animals out of a mother of two’s intestines; and a reel of grainy footage which shows Mr. T tearing a toddler in half like a phone book. In a cruel twist, the dossier also mentions that, after escaping from a maximum security stockade, the A-Team created a hubristic piece of video propaganda painting them as do-gooders aiding members of the community with extreme acts of charity.
You join a delusional cult who believe the crackpot idea that events in your life are connected to the month you were born and that clues to your fate can be found printed amid the text of national newspapers.
This month you win the lottery.
Leave hydrogen alone for a few billion years and it will start writing horoscopes.
With only weeks to live and all your options exhausted, your doctor explains that he knows a guy, and he could totally get a rat’s brain and put it inside your ball sac and see what happens. There’s no guarantee it’ll work. But dammit, he says, it’s worth a shot.