Everyone’s heard of Nostradamus, that famous old French dude who was an expert at predicting world events. But what if I told you that I know someone who’s just as good, if not better, at guessing the future? That someone is my inner voice, and he’s magically foreseeing that I’m gonna get drunk tonight, like I usually do, and cause embarrassment to myself like I always do. I should probably call the media and tell them about this amazing oracle because if he’s right again the world needs to hear about it!
Sure, everyone does dumb stuff in their life, and I’m certainly no different. But how does the little guy that talks to me inside my brain know that I’m going to pound back some Johnnie Walker, then call my manager and tell him to take his job–which I desperately need or I’ll be out on the streets and eating from dumpsters within a week–and to shove it up his stupid, fat ass? It’s almost as if he’s seen this movie and all its sequels before. Uncanny.
Last time, he correctly predicted that I’d get arrested for what the police called “property damage” and “criminal harassment” after I tore up my previous boss Ron’s front lawn with my F150, before totaling it into the side of his house. Not only that, but he also mystically foretold that I’d get even more wrecked the following weekend and have a fistfight with my Uber, after they refused to be my getaway driver when they caught wind of my revenge plan to ambush Ron outside of the animal shelter the do-gooder volunteers at, and give him a good old-fashioned beatdown.
I dunno. Maybe I should spend less time trying to understand how this fortune teller works, and more time just appreciating his supernatural ability to forecast with absolute accuracy what will happen to me after I consume copious amounts of alcohol, which I only do Mondays to Sundays every single week of the year.