My friend was over last night. When we took the military test ASVAB in high school he got a 100% on the coding section. Last night we got into card tricks. First he was keeping his finger in the place of a card and guessing which it was, holding it up to us without looking at it. He was right. I did some other tricks and so did another friend. Eventually we each revealed how we did it to the other. It progressed until I shuffled the cards several times, and pulled a completely random card from the deck, laid it face down on the carpet, didn't even look at it (neither did he) and he guessed it dead on. Sometimes he had to touch it to tell, sometimes he didn't even hesitate. One time he punched the card into his phone in text before we flipped it over. Seven of clubs. Bam. He did this without missing a single one probably 11-12 times. This was a standard deck. He knew whether or not it was the joker when NONE of us looked at it. This card he punched into his phone? That was from a deck in another room, not even shuffled, and pulled from the middle. I kept pressing him to do it but he kept telling me he didn't want to see it, or see anything else... before. First this was reluctance and then we kept asking him to guess a card and he'd get it dead on, under several circumstances, and unless ... well I can't think HOW he did it if he was cheating. There was no way. These were my cards. This has completely freaked me out because there's no explanation and a coincidence twelve times in a row with a 1:54 chance without error ever... He even joked about it. He got it wrong on purpose and without showing him the card my other friend and I finally looked at each other in triumph, but then this guy guessed the card, still not having seen it. I'm generally the most skeptical person in my social arena (unless it's fashionable to be so) and this shakes me. Because I saw this with my own eyes, heard it with my ears. Saw a type of pain on his face when we kept asking him to do it again on our terms and experienced the wonder when an infallible plot of ours failed and he guessed it true (yes he was a bit drunk and emotional). He's either a VERY good actor or has some... thing. No mirrors behind me, straight-faced I was, and well, there was just no way... ideas?
Maybe it's what it is Only a few days ago I looked into a cooler with cokes inside it and plucked one second from the back. I knew it had a free coke cap, and I was right. It's rare that you get one of those. I'll get back to ya.
Yes, uncanny... I once met a lady journalist who, it would seem, survived on nothing more than Zoloft and frozen mixed vegetables. Often times, after a long night of poetry and nitrous oxide, I would travel to the downtown Hilton hotel for some brunch and a Bloody Mary. And, more often than not, she would be there. She would be seated at the bar slowly stirring her Grey Goose martini. We talked on those days and eventually got to know each other pretty well. To make a long story short, You need to know that I wear underwear that is either red, black, blue or white. And every Sunday when we met at the Hilton she would, without fail, correctly guess what colour of underwear I was wearing that day. She started to freak me out. Even after we got an apartment and moved in together, she would demonstrate an uncanny ability to sense when someone was passed out behind the couch.
How could you tell if she knew if you were unconscious? Is she still there? Or does this story have an unhappy ending?
I am afraid it was not a happy ending.. She had some sort of breakdown after a while. I blamed myself due to the fact that I exhaled smoke from a cigarette far too loudly. She always hated that. Sometimes she would lock herself in the bathroom and scream at me to smoke more quietly. But I did not listen. I tried to make up for it. I would bring home the best crafted glassware from the finest restaurants, I would by one DEPECHE MODE cd after another for her. Nothing helped. We finally decided that it would be best if she checked into a mental hospital. I visited her a few times. I quit going to see her after a while though. I just could not stand the hospital. It was the shuffling feet wrapped in dirty socks sliding against the waxed and buffed green tile floors. Those black porous eyes vacant and downcast swiveling like glass beads behind yellow faces...those sluggish screams. Anyway, there are plenty more fish in the sea. Right?
