Short Little Stories

“On the Seventh Day of the Second Month, you shall meet your end. Your doom shall fall upon you. Doooom!”

Average Ted didn’t know why she hadn’t just said “tommorow,” but figured it was a gypsy thing. Darn gypsy fortune tellers, causing all this trouble what with their… fortune telling, and whatnot.

It wasn’t a very good day for Ted. He hadn’t expected to be told that today was the date of his death. It had really put a downer on attending the county fair the night before. Looked like it would be ruining the rest of the week too – or what he had left of it, in any case.

Ted resolved to be vigilant. He’d show this ‘doom’ that he wouldn’t go easily, no sir! He’d look both ways before crossing the street. He’d wash his hands and brush his teeth after every meal. Time to play things safe, today!

“Expect the unexpected!” Ted said boldly, as he boldly strolled out of his apartment complex, drawing the bewildered gazes of several old ladies playing Mahjong in the lounge. “Fate will have to think twice if it wants to make a fool out of me!”

Poor Ted. He never saw it coming. No one did, really. I mean, it seemed to make sense, after the fact, but it really isn’t everyday you see an anvil fall out of the sky and flatten someone into the ground. And then catch on fire. And explode.

It really wasn’t a very good day for Ted. Not one bit.