For Future Reference

After a crazy, busy, grouchy day at work, as I was sitting on a bench outside my building scrolling through tracks on my iPod, a cherubic, blue eyed eight year old approached me with a smile and a piece of paper which she held out to me, practically begging me to mess with her head.

"No thanks!" I said. "I already have ten of those."

"It's for the fortune teller." she told me. "So you can find out your future."

"I know my future." I replied. "It involves homicide and a bong."

She looked at me not saying anything, probably because she didn't understand either word although she understood enough to know I was being a douche.

"I'm kidding." I said, feeling bad for her. "I don't have a future. And neither do you. We're all going to die, so you should ditch the paper and get a real job."

She blinked at me, unsure what to say. "I'm only eight." she pointed out.

I sighed. "Just gimme the flier." I said.

Poor kid. Who sends an eight year old girl out to hand out fliers to strangers?