KATACLYSM: A Space-Time Comedy Read Online Free PDF Page A

immediately annoyed with himself for asking such a stupid and useless question. But he was flustered because she appeared to be paying less and less attention to him.
    “Like a flower,” she said unhelpfully.  Flower seemed highly preoccupied and was constantly glancing at her watch.  Jude took a breath and launched in.
    “Look, I was wondering if you would be interested in going out for coffee with me.  I know this is a bit awkward, but I think there is at least a small chance that the two of us may be soul mates and it would be a true shame if we didn’t explore that possibility together at your favorite coffee shop.  My treat?”  He searched her face for some kind of acknowledgement.  It was apparent that Flower hadn’t really been listening to him.  Jude began to consider the idea of cutting his losses and seeing if he could retrieve his keys from Flower.  He tried to think of the most diplomatic and face-saving way of accomplishing this.  Just then, Flower stopped dead and abruptly turned towards him.
    “I’m sorry Jude, but I have an appointment that I really need to be on time for.  I don’t mean to be rude.”  Jude was crestfallen.  Flower clearly saw the dejection in his face, because she bit her lip and looked at him apologetically with her beautiful eyes.  She thought for a second, apparently searching for something to say that would make Jude feel better.
    “Listen, thank you again so much for finding my keys.”  And with that, she walked off leaving Jude speechless for the second time in an hour.

Chapter 3
    Flower Pierce arrived for her appointment three minutes late without any idea that she was in mortal danger.  At the moment, her mind was on her shoes.  As she entered the rundown building just south of Boston’s financial district, she gripped the banister on the wall with two hands and began a wobbly journey up the old metal staircase.  Each time she came to Madame Sfortunata, she swore that she would never return wearing stilettos but somehow always seemed to forget.  As Flower climbed, she detected the faint but distinct odor of marijuana.  When she reached the top, she stepped over a broken wine bottle and made the now-familiar walk to apartment 210.  Opening the outer shutter door, she noticed that the wooden door to the apartment was ajar.  She peaked her head in.
    “Madame Sfortunata?  It’s me.  Flower,” she called.
    The aging psychic was sitting on a tattered sofa entranced by her television set.  When she heard Flower’s voice she immediately perked up.  “Come in, dear.  I’ve been expecting you.”
    Psychics have always been a curiosity to the people of Earth.  Are they for real?  Can they really see the future and talk to the dead?  Well in many cases the answer is yes and, as a result, psychics are known to the inhabitants of the afterlife as a positive nuisance.  On occasion, people use these clairvoyants to send profound and meaningful messages to their loved ones in the world beyond.  However, in the vast number of cases, psychics provide a medium that only serves to harass the dearly departed with a kind of bizarre trivia game.  It generally follows the same pattern:
    Fiona visits her local mystic to see if she can get in touch with her dead husband Angelo but she is skeptical.  She asks a question that only Angelo would know.  The mystic contacts Robert who runs one of the switchboards in the afterlife.  Robert runs a search because there are far too many souls for the psychic to sort through by him or herself.  The following conversation ensues:
    “Hang on, I’ll see if I can reach him,” says Robert.  Seconds later.  “OK.  I’ve got him on.  What do you need?”
    “Angelo’s wife Fiona wants to know the colour of her favorite underwear when they were first married,” relays the psychic.
    “OK, just a sec…Angelo?”
    “Yes.”
    “Your wife wants to know what the colour of her favorite pair of underwear was after you