Misfortune

"I don't see a future,

With any fella!,"

Cried lonely Fiona,

Before going to work,

As a fortune teller.

On one of her shifts,

Dealing tarot cards,

This punter called Eric,

Couldn't stomach,

Being dealt the Devil card.

"You're a fraud!"' he roared at Fiona.

"Oh lord, I wish that were true!" she pleaded.

"But please believe, your future's screwed.

Try to enjoy the rest of your stag-do."

* * *

"What an old and shabby relic,"

Eric thought of Fiona.

He had complained to the independent watchdog who looked into sham enterprises.

Feeling sorry for her now, however,

He tried dropping the charges, against her.

But to his surprise,

Retracting a grievance,

Came at a fee,

"That's all I need!" cried he.

"Planning a wedding, ain't been cheap!"

Feeling trapped,

Eric went incognito,

And killed the watchdog's C.E.O,

In his power nap.

* * *

T'was the morning of the wedding,

And Fiona's phone wouldn't stop ringing.

Rolling her eyes, she answered,

"Oh, hello Stranger!"

It was Eric,

In a panic,

So, Fiona got prophetic,

Giving it to him straight, like,

"Look, you'll need a good lawyer.

You'll try to elope,

Your bride'll say nope,

You won't cope,

You'll fly out to Dubai,

Barely making it off the plane,

Before you're extradited,

Back to Blighty.

There'll be a hidden fee,

For the excess luggage,

That's all you'll need,

Your plane ticket,

Won't be cheap, neither.

So you'll go incognito,

And kill- hello?..."

Eric hung up,

Down on his luck,

Fiona was only winding him up.