Ahoy, mates. We all know how uncertain life can be, and seein’ as how ye weathered half a week a’ready, we’re draggin’ in the Eyeless Hag to shed some light on the rest o’ it. Sort of. Maybe. Probably not. Take it away, Grandmum!
“Hello there, you nasty little whelps. Grandmum here, bad ankle and all with your midway fortune. No voodoo involved; Grandmum just has a knack for seein’ things before they happen, and even if there’s nothin’ in it for me, sit down and listen up.
What I see is… pain. Pain in your future; gas pain! Avoid certain foods, or else you’ll be crippled all in an ugly heap waitin’ for your belly to burst or your eyes to fall out, whichever comes first.
As far as weather goes, I never much cared for weather. Not sure why we have to have it. It’s either so hot it wrinkles you like a blessed prune, or so cold and stormy that you’re flying with the birds. I don’t like weather.
Finally, sports. Your beloved team will probably lose. Grandmum’s just guessing. That’s usually how it works. Also, if you make any bets, you’ll probably be the only one to not win anything. But if it cheers you up, there be millions more like you all around the world… just not around you.
And there you go. Your advice for the week; drink rum, it cures what ails you, and if it doesn’t you wont soon care…”
Well… hope ye all enjoyed this weekly fortune from Grandmum. Take careful note o’ these words and, maybe, ye’ll reshape yer future. Likely not. Aye, actually there be no hope o’ that.