Hoboscopes: September 27, 2023

LIBRA

It’s dark in here, Libra. It’s dark and it’s quiet. Well, it’s quiet except for every 90 seconds or so… SPEEEP! There it is again! That single ear-piercing tone. Like a knife in the mind and then quiet again. Hold on, shh! I think it’s coming back. SPEEEP! It wants something, Libra. It wants you to remember something. It wants you to come closer. SPEEEP! I think it just wants you to change the battery in your smoke detector. Sometimes the loudest, sharpest, most jarring sounds are actually somebody, (or something) caring about you. SPEEEP!

SCORPIO

Sure, everybody knows Bigfoot, Mothman, and The Chupacabra. But who are the cryptids in your neighborhood, Scorpio? Where I live we’ve got Slenderdog, One-Antlered Wayne, Creepy Julie, The Shelby Sentinel, and Babyteeth. I consider myself a skeptic on most of them, but I still take precautions. What? You think I’m gonna NOT leave out three corndogs for Babyteeth every Oct. 8? Take the actions you know you need to take, Scorpio. Even if you don’t believe with all your heart.

SAGITTARIUS

First it’s like a single needle pushing against the tip of your finger but not quite breaking the skin. Then another one. Suddenly there’s a 100 individual pinpricks, crawling across your hand, moving toward your wrist. The sensation spreads and grows, but only a few more seconds and…it starts to get better. When your hand falls asleep from the angle of your arm underneath your pillow, Sagittarius, you don’t just leave it asleep to avoid the discomfort of the blood returning. Starting to trust yourself again is uncomfortable at first, too. But I think you’re just waking up.

CAPRICORN

Sure, I see all of you rushing out to buy bags of fun-sized chocolates to keep by your front door now. But let me remind you that I keep full-sized Hershey bars by my front door year-round. Yes, it’s nice for guests. But more importantly, chocolate is toxic to werewolves. This is the only way I can ensure that no werewolf will get past my entryway. Remember, Capricorn, sometimes preparing for the worst is also a plan for the best. Now, do you want one with almonds or without?

AQUARIUS

What is a ghoul anyway, Aquarius? The word always follows so nicely in seasonal phrases alongside ghosts and goblins. But I just don’t have a strong sense of what qualifies as a ghoul. Is it alive? Does it have a solid corporeal form? What does it want? These are the details we should have hammered-out before we had this 25 foot banner printed. But here we are, Aquarius. If you can’t make the words fit the situation, you might have to make the situation fit the words.

PISCES

Pull over, Pisces! They’re selling pumpkins by the side of the highway. Let’s see, you’ll need a classic basketball-sized orange one. You’ve got to get one of those weird lumpy green and white ones. Maybe a couple of the table-top ones with the long stems. And one that’s too tall and skinny and one that’s too short and dumpy. Honestly, I think we’re going to be here a while. Remember, Pisces, there’s always more choices than you remember. And you don’t have to pick just one.

ARIES

When I was a kid, I was afraid there was something hiding under my bed. There could be anything crouching in that darkness between the box spring and the floor! As an adult, I’ve overcome this fear by never buying a bed-frame at all and sleeping with my mattress directly on the floor. It’s much safer. Nothing could fit under there! Well, come to think of it, maybe a tapeworm. They’re pretty flat. What if there’s a tapeworm under my bed! Maybe I should have addressed my fears directly instead of restructuring my life to avoid them. Can I sleep on your couch tonight and we can talk it over?

TAURUS

Sometimes I think about Frankenstein’s monster. He was made up of so many parts from so many people. A heart from here, a hand from there. And it reminds me, Taurus, of all the parts that make you up. You’re a little bit of everybody you’ve ever loved. You’re a little bit of everybody you’ve ever hated. You’ve got some prejudices you picked up from friends and fears you picked up from family. But I’m not here to take you apart, Taurus, I’m just here to remind you that you can let go of any of that you need to and you’ll still be you.

GEMINI

The fog is thick, Gemini. Wolves howl in the distance and you hear hooves quickly approaching your path. The small dark carriage stops and the door opens. It is riderless. You hear the horses whinny as you step inside (though you saw no horses.) As the carriage begins to move down the road, you fear you’ve made a mistake. You notice an envelope in the seat next to you. You open it and see the words scrawled in a hurried hand “You can get out anytime you want.” Oh. Good point. Maybe you’ve ridden far enough. Maybe you have more control than you realized.

CANCER

I was waiting for my Uber last night and I heard an owl hooting in the tree across the street. I looked up from my phone and saw something I wasn’t expecting. The sky was full of stars. Sometimes I forget to look up for hours. Sometimes days, Cancer. But there it was a sky full of stars. And it reminded me that me and you and our phones are very, very tiny. And the world and the sky that it’s in are very big. And as my phone chimed and a Kia Soul pulled up next to me and asked if I was “Mr. Mystevio?” I understood that none of this is as important as we think.

LEO

“Ghosts in the graveyard. Ghosts in the sink. Ghosts at the bottom of my Sonic drink. Bring us the truth from the sky tonight. Tell us if Leo is doing alright.”…Is it working, Leo? Sorry, sometimes I don’t organize my schedule well and I run out of time to do my amateur astrology. So I thought maybe I could just ask the spirit-realm to do it for me but they haven’t said a word. This reminds me Leo that you’re doing a great job managing your calendar lately. You’re getting a lot done and at a record pace. I hope you’re making time to connect with friends, too. If you want to go to Sonic later, I could definitely use a refill.

VIRGO

Wait, Virgo, have we already been here? It’s a dead-end to the left, a two-way split behind us and to the right is that long pathway we already walked twice. We’ve been in here for half an hour and every path just looks the same. Why did I let you talk me into turning my front yard into a corn maze, anyway? I think if we try to retrace our steps and make a right at the second-split we might find my mailbox and we can at least get those 2-for-1 milkshake coupons. I wonder, Virgo, if there’s anything else you’re overcomplicating lately. Maybe instead of a map, you just need some hedge clippers.