by William B. “Nostradamus, Jr.” Kaliher, BATR:
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.
I, Nostradamus Jr., slightly unsteady after four Mason jars of South Carolina deep swamp hootch downed at Big Earl’s House of Porn & Bait Shop, lay with my head atop Hope Clark’s latest mystery, Murder on Edisto, innocently passed out on the floor next to James Carville and his dollar tied to a string. The doors burst open and five strange guys barged in. One with curious wavy hair pulled me about four feet over and said, “You don’t need to be lying there with that reptilian who soiled himself.”
I shook myself and said, “Carville don’t look so odd once you’re snockered. Who’re you guys?”
Bad haircut said, “Special Agents from Ancient Aliens. We hear you not only see the future but are in direct contact with ancient Maya and Olmec. We’re filming you this year.”
Mata Hari’s great granddaughter, Lucille, pulled me erect and put a jar of moon in my hand to help me recollect myself. The split-seam skirt exposing pearly full thighs didn’t help my effort at lucidity, “Like hell, I swore off foretelling the future after last year’s failures.”
Bad hair’s stock stood up straighter as shock re-formatted his face, “Failure, Nostradamus Jr.? One hundred nine percent with twelve triple prediction ringing the stake is hardly bad. You owe it to your followers so they can plan their lives another year.”
By then, Lucille’s lilac perfume and scrumptious feminine attributes had diverted my attention. As I leaned in to find out how that lilac scent tasted on her neck the chubby Special Agent summed up the situation: “You know we have some mighty fine-looking young lasses on our filming team. They couldn’t quite make it as actresses in Hollywood.”
Sadly, it slipped my mind how much I’d been enjoying the twelve Egyptian belly dancers perilous curves in recent weeks. Too quickly, I said, “In that case, once again, I, Nostradamus Jr.,” will get buck-arsed naked and venture where even Nostradamus, Sr. never dared go. I’ll astral-project to the home of the Olmecs and capitol of the occult, Catemaco, Mexico, and meet your crew at Seven’s on the malecón next week.
Special Agents from Ancient Aliens, seven high-level Mayan priests, two well-built German lasses and the world champion marble-shooter, among others, found me enjoying a bottle of Sotol at Seven’s the following week. As I stripped down before entering the opaque waters of Laguana Catemaco, the cowardly group stood trembling while holding crucifixes to keep Hillary, eleven members of the Bush family and Brad Pitt at bay. Once in my full nudity, these demons retreated to hell while the two well-built Teutonic lasses tried to distract me from my duties.
After being diverted until compete exhaustion and satisfaction by the scantily clad fraulines, the Mayan priests and I waded into Laguna Catemaco. While treading murky water, my talented toes massaged the stone-cold prehistoric and weirdly-carved stone heads of 101 ancient Olmec statues– or perhaps it was old rusting car frames– to bring forth this year’s prophesies. Once again, these predictions will allow readers to plan their lives.
1. Just when the world thinks President Obama will be brought down by The New York Times finally covering the disaster called Obamacare, George W. Bush will rescue him from the skewer by stepping forward and announcing, “It’s all my fault.”
2. NRA members will keep President Obama confined in the White House during the entire month of February by arming themselves with pork chops, surrounding the grounds and pointing the gnawed bones pistol fashion.
3. CNN will report Elvis Pressley, Jim Croce, Ted Kopple and Amelia Earhart were spotted enjoying a brew at Big Earl’s House of Porn & Bait Shop.
4. Kim Jong-un will present Hong Kong produced paternity papers and sue Albert Gore over his claim to have fathered the internet.
5. George Soros will be hospitalized after receiving a bad kidney from Mahata Patel of East Bengal.
6. The world will suffer the exposure of Madonna’s big ol’ good’un three times as she strives to retake the Ms. White Trash title.
7. New Yorkers will protest when New Jersey’s Governor Chris Christy captures the NYC July 4th hot dog eating contest by consuming 114 of Coney Island’s best in under two minutes.
8. PETA activists will elect an Irish Setter named Sparkles to a San Francisco city council seat.
9. A good fellow will stick Vera Buttra’s sh-ur-T up her arse to the cheers of thousands.
10. The Rolling Stones will add new vigor to the group by adding octogenarian, Omar “One-hair” Rodriquez as drummer.
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