Good news! I have once more pushed through the luminiferous aether and looked beyond, and I’ve done you a reading.
Bad news! While out for a walk this weekend, you will happen across a woman sitting on a bench with a cross-eyed pug called Alan. She will offer you the pug and tell you that she requires no money for him. Clearly this offer is too good to be true, but you’ll take Alan anyway.
This will be a mistake; for Alan is psychic and his boss-eyed stare seems to penetrate your very soul as he sees what is in store for you. Alan will huff at you and, tugging sharply on his lead, he’ll take you for a walk. You and Alan will walk for miles with Alan seemingly knowing exactly where he is going. Sure enough his psychic powers will lead you to a suitcase filled with cash, gold, fine china, jewellery and other cursed items.
You’ll try to lift the case but be unable to shift it due to the enormous weight. The only solution is to hide the suitcase and the cursed contents and go off to find some sort of trolley. You’ll begin covering the suitcase in leafy branches lest it be discovered while you are away, when suddenly you’ll be aware of an approaching squeak.
Walking toward you along the path is a man. He’s being pulled along by a cross-eyed beagle and he in turn is pulling a trolley with a squeaky wheel. He stops and stares at you. Alan shares a cross-eyed look with the beagle. Tension fills the air as you and the man wait to see who reacts first. But before either of you can make any plans a woman appears from the around the corner. She is being guided to the suitcase by a cross-eyed Labrador. But before either of you can say anything, three more people with cross-eyed dogs approach, two of them also pulling trollies.
You have no choice now but to fight for the suitcase and it’s cursed contents. The fight will be long and brutal and while the cross-eyed dogs look on you’ll be forced to kill or be killed. But all to no avail. The last thing you hear, before a rock wielding housewife crushes your skull is, “TINA SMASH!!”
Nobody wins and the last person breathing is sat on by a fat, cross-eyed St Bernard and suffocated.
Alan huffs and he and the other dogs exchange knowing cross-eyed glances across the bloody carnage before leaving together, pulling the suitcase behind them.
Your lucky number is a spoon. Your lucky colour is the inside of your head. Your lucky day is no longer needed.