2/18/18
I drew the Hierophant reversed for August today. We were sitting on the bleachers under the big top while the Goat Man, Azazel, went through his routine with his goats.
“There’s someone you should be listening to but aren’t,” I told him.
“Who even trains goats?” He flicked a stray piece of popcorn at the center ring.
“Azazel,” I said.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, but the way you mean it, the question is absurd.”
“I really can’t take this anymore,” said August as he vanished.
2/19/18
I lay with my head in Mal’s lap, shuffling the cards on my belly. August glowered at me from the corner.
“Father of Pentacles, reversed. That suits you, you are certainly not steady, nor do you have a plan to contribute anything to the world.”
“You’re just being mean.”
“I’m being frank, August. You’re familiar, as I recall,” I said. He grew large, hovering over Mal and me. His pallid face looming and leering. Mal reached up with a pin he had conjured and popped the ghost. I’m still laughing.
2/20/18
Toady I drew the Seven of Swords for August.
“A warning, then,” he said.
“I suppose so.”
“I need to look out for myself, no one else here does.”
“August, you’re rude and demanding. And those are the least of your bad qualities. I bet Evelyn pushed you off that cliff.” He left after that. I really don’t know why I still read his tarot. He can’t even make me anymore.
