Buck-arsed naked after downing a quart jar of bad hootch slap dab in the middle of Big Earl’s House of Porn and Bait Shoppe, shapely Lucille slipped up close. Oh, lord her endowments felt good. “You finished your predictions yet, Nostradamus, Jr, “she whispered.
Lord have mercy, them predictions hadn’t crossed my mind in months. The whole dang crowd in Big Earl’s knew I was recovering from a three-month binge and were betting if I could pull it off yet again. Lucille, shimmied up and down, weaving them hips enough to hypnotize most mortal men, but not Nostradamus, Jr ,when them annual predictions called. I thought, one night of fun with Little Egypt and twelve imported belly dancers with super-perilous curves and tomorrow I’d go.
Producing this year’s soon-to-be amazingly accurate predictions was a virtual miracle. I, Nostradamus Jr., spent the month of August and the following two fortnights drunk as a coot on Carolina shine with Lucille (oh those deliciously dangerous curves) at Big Earl’s House of Porn & Bait Shop. Round about late September, I wandered out to the edge of the woods, and being about nineteen sheets to mild hurricane winds, thought it a good idea to wrassal a bigfoot name Norm I’d met years earlier while tormenting an alligator near Hell Hole swamp. Well, I was so whooped up and worn out by the time I pinned Norm in a two-out-of -three match, I wasn’t certain I could keep drinking. I forgot all about my duty to make predictions and walked with Norm as far as the Appalachians to hibernate with some black bears while I recovered. I finished off three triple-X jugs of hootch and tucked myself in between them fat, snoozing bears.
Reading a slightly chipped 1850’ antique crystal doorknob reduced last year’s accuracy to only 109 percent. Charlatan seers filling up New Year’s Day publications are overjoyed at achieving two percent accuracy. However, I, “Nostradamus Jr.” Kaliher disappointed with my results, drained a quart of Alvin Starkman’s (Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca) private mescal stock, snuggled up to scantily clad Little Egypt and swore off future predictions. Having neglected to examine my own future little did I know what to expect.