I stared at the prophetic octopus as it twisted and glided around its tank.
“And it guesses correctly every time?” I asked.
“Sure does,” replied Darrell. “It’s 13 and 0. Never once guessed wrong.”
“And it said that Trump would win the election?” I clarified.
“Sure did,” affirmed Darrell.
“Huh,” I muttered incredulously. Darrell had called me over to his house earlier in the week to show me his new octopus, Bingo, which I was just now getting around to seeing. He had gotten it from an ad on Facebook, some off-shore agency with a knack for finding psychic octopi. He explained that he’d spent nearly $5,000 on the massive tank that now took up half his basement, but that the investment would soon pay for itself, considering that the octopus was never wrong and could be used for all types of sports betting scenarios.
“How does it work?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s not too complicated,” Darrell began. “I place two glass boxes in the tank, each filled with a mussel, and make sure to mark which is which. For example, Box 1 was Kamala; Box 2 was Trump. Whichever one Bingo opens first is the winner.”
“So Bingo opened Box 2 first?” I repeated.
“That’s right,” Darrell confirmed. He pulled me in closer and lowered his voice as if he were telling me a secret. “You know, if I were you, I would think about putting some money on Trump.”
“You can bet on the election?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course you can bet on the election!” his voice boomed. “You can bet on anything!”
I nodded with uncertainty, considering the implications. “And will you still vote?”
“What do I need to vote for? I already know who will win the election,” Darrell stated proudly.
“Right, right,” I agreed, shaking my head as if I had made a significant blunder.
After about 20 more minutes of Darrell boasting about the powers of his octopus Bingo, I said my goodbyes and started to walk home.
“So that’s it then, Mimo. Trump will win the election,” I said to myself.
“Maybe so, maybe not,” Mimo replied to me.
I spent the whole walk home weighing the options of whether I should bet on the election or not, when I ran into my other neighbor, Sherrill.
“Matt!” she shrieked, her front door swinging open. “I just absolutely, positively HAVE to show you something!”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me into her living room, which, much to my bewilderment, had been turned into a makeshift aquarium. Inside a giant tank were not one, but two octopi. “Meet Dingle and Dongle,” she beamed proudly. “They can see the future, I swear to you. They can! They really can!”
At that moment, Sherrill’s words spilled out faster and faster, like a runaway train, as she explained how these two octopi ended up in her living room. She talked for fifteen minutes straight, barely taking a moment to breathe, and then shouted, “I am SO lucky I saw that ad on Instagram. I mean, can you imagine if I hadn’t? Two for the price of one. It was SUCH a good deal!”
She stopped speaking and stared at me, waiting with expectant eyes for me to ask a follow-up question about her octopi.
“And you said that they both picked Harris to win the election?” I prompted.
“That’s exactly right! I mean, when I tell you they both IMMEDIATELY went to the Kamala box. They didn’t even have to think about it. They just know, I’m telling you—they just know.”
“Uh huh,” I responded, nodding my head.
“And get this—” Sherrill added excitedly, “Tom down the street—you know Tom, right?—well, Tom told me that he also got an octopus, and his octopus said that Kamala was going to win too. And apparently, he got one because his cousin got one, and his cousin’s octopus said Kamala would win.” She spoke so rapidly that I was having difficulty following what she was saying.
“But will you still vote?” I asked.
“I don’t think it’s really necessary at this point. It’s a done deal. I mean, think about it—if three psychic octopi tell you who’s going to win the election, you better listen to them.”
“Right,” I agreed. I said my goodbyes and ran straight home.
When I got to my apartment, I opened my laptop and frantically typed “where to buy psychic octopus super fast” into the Google search bar. I quickly followed up that search with another: “how to bet on election.”
“Don’t you think you should be researching the policy of the candidates?” Mimo asked me.
“No, you idiot! It’s too late for that! We need something reliable. Something foolproof!” I barked back. I clicked on the top search result for a company called ORACLE OCTOPUS INC.
My eyes scanned the page, searching for how to get an octopus as quickly as possible, but to my dismay, a large SOLD OUT banner was displayed at the top of the shop page. “Shit, shit, shit!” I muttered, nearing a full panic. “What will I do?” I exclaimed at Mimo, my eyes wide with desperation.
“I believe you have no other choice. You’ll have to vote,” Mimo replied calmly.
“Dammit!” I shouted, slamming my hand on my desk.
Election Day finally came, and I put off voting for as long as I could. Finally, at 7:55 p.m., just five minutes before the polls closed, I hurried into my polling place, a small church in my neighborhood.
The room was quiet, empty. There was one woman sitting at a desk, her head bobbing as she dozed off to sleep.
“Hello,” I whispered to her, causing her head to whip upright with a loud snore.
“Oh my word!” she exclaimed. “Somebody actually came!”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.
“You’re the first voter to show up all day.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sir. Can you please give me your ID?”
I handed over my driver’s license, and she searched my name in the little book. She directed me to booth #1, closing the curtain behind me. I placed my vote, which took all of thirty seconds, and then left the building.
“Did I just decide the election?” I asked Mimo.
“No. I’m afraid Bingo and Dingle and Dongle decided the election, when they convinced their owners not to vote,” Mimo replied.
I felt the weight of Mimo's words rest on me as I walked home, realizing that the only prophecies that matter are the ones we create ourselves.
------------------------------------------------------
DON’T LET A PROPHETIC OCTOPUS DECIDE THE ELECTION FOR YOU.
GO VOTE TOMORROW.
I stared at the prophetic octopus as it twisted and glided around its tank.
“And it guesses correctly every time?” I asked.
“Sure does,” replied Darrell. “It’s 13 and 0. Never once guessed wrong.”
“And it said that Trump would win the election?” I clarified.
“Sure did,” affirmed Darrell.
“Huh,” I muttered incredulously. Darrell had called me over to his house earlier in the week to show me his new octopus, Bingo, which I was just now getting around to seeing. He had gotten it from an ad on Facebook, some off-shore agency with a knack for finding psychic octopi. He explained that he’d spent nearly $5,000 on the massive tank that now took up half his basement, but that the investment would soon pay for itself, considering that the octopus was never wrong and could be used for all types of sports betting scenarios.
“How does it work?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s not too complicated,” Darrell began. “I place two glass boxes in the tank, each filled with a mussel, and make sure to mark which is which. For example, Box 1 was Kamala; Box 2 was Trump. Whichever one Bingo opens first is the winner.”
“So Bingo opened Box 2 first?” I repeated.
“That’s right,” Darrell confirmed. He pulled me in closer and lowered his voice as if he were telling me a secret. “You know, if I were you, I would think about putting some money on Trump.”
“You can bet on the election?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course you can bet on the election!” his voice boomed. “You can bet on anything!”
I nodded with uncertainty, considering the implications. “And will you still vote?”
“What do I need to vote for? I already know who will win the election,” Darrell stated proudly.
“Right, right,” I agreed, shaking my head as if I had made a significant blunder.
After about 20 more minutes of Darrell boasting about the powers of his octopus Bingo, I said my goodbyes and started to walk home.
“So that’s it then, Mimo. Trump will win the election,” I said to myself.
“Maybe so, maybe not,” Mimo replied to me.
I spent the whole walk home weighing the options of whether I should bet on the election or not, when I ran into my other neighbor, Sherrill.
“Matt!” she shrieked, her front door swinging open. “I just absolutely, positively HAVE to show you something!”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me into her living room, which, much to my bewilderment, had been turned into a makeshift aquarium. Inside a giant tank were not one, but two octopi. “Meet Dingle and Dongle,” she beamed proudly. “They can see the future, I swear to you. They can! They really can!”
At that moment, Sherrill’s words spilled out faster and faster, like a runaway train, as she explained how these two octopi ended up in her living room. She talked for fifteen minutes straight, barely taking a moment to breathe, and then shouted, “I am SO lucky I saw that ad on Instagram. I mean, can you imagine if I hadn’t? Two for the price of one. It was SUCH a good deal!”
She stopped speaking and stared at me, waiting with expectant eyes for me to ask a follow-up question about her octopi.
“And you said that they both picked Harris to win the election?” I prompted.
“That’s exactly right! I mean, when I tell you they both IMMEDIATELY went to the Kamala box. They didn’t even have to think about it. They just know, I’m telling you—they just know.”
“Uh huh,” I responded, nodding my head.
“And get this—” Sherrill added excitedly, “Tom down the street—you know Tom, right?—well, Tom told me that he also got an octopus, and his octopus said that Kamala was going to win too. And apparently, he got one because his cousin got one, and his cousin’s octopus said Kamala would win.” She spoke so rapidly that I was having difficulty following what she was saying.
“But will you still vote?” I asked.
“I don’t think it’s really necessary at this point. It’s a done deal. I mean, think about it—if three psychic octopi tell you who’s going to win the election, you better listen to them.”
“Right,” I agreed. I said my goodbyes and ran straight home.
When I got to my apartment, I opened my laptop and frantically typed “where to buy psychic octopus super fast” into the Google search bar. I quickly followed up that search with another: “how to bet on election.”
“Don’t you think you should be researching the policy of the candidates?” Mimo asked me.
“No, you idiot! It’s too late for that! We need something reliable. Something foolproof!” I barked back. I clicked on the top search result for a company called ORACLE OCTOPUS INC.
My eyes scanned the page, searching for how to get an octopus as quickly as possible, but to my dismay, a large SOLD OUT banner was displayed at the top of the shop page. “Shit, shit, shit!” I muttered, nearing a full panic. “What will I do?” I exclaimed at Mimo, my eyes wide with desperation.
“I believe you have no other choice. You’ll have to vote,” Mimo replied calmly.
“Dammit!” I shouted, slamming my hand on my desk.
Election Day finally came, and I put off voting for as long as I could. Finally, at 7:55 p.m., just five minutes before the polls closed, I hurried into my polling place, a small church in my neighborhood.
The room was quiet, empty. There was one woman sitting at a desk, her head bobbing as she dozed off to sleep.
“Hello,” I whispered to her, causing her head to whip upright with a loud snore.
“Oh my word!” she exclaimed. “Somebody actually came!”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.
“You’re the first voter to show up all day.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sir. Can you please give me your ID?”
I handed over my driver’s license, and she searched my name in the little book. She directed me to booth #1, closing the curtain behind me. I placed my vote, which took all of thirty seconds, and then left the building.
“Did I just decide the election?” I asked Mimo.
“No. I’m afraid Bingo and Dingle and Dongle decided the election, when they convinced their owners not to vote,” Mimo replied.
I felt the weight of Mimo's words rest on me as I walked home, realizing that the only prophecies that matter are the ones we create ourselves.
------------------------------------------------------
DON’T LET A PROPHETIC OCTOPUS DECIDE THE ELECTION FOR YOU.
GO VOTE TOMORROW.
