When it comes up in conversation, "Oh, yeah, btw, I'm a prophet for a minor joke religion." they always want you to feed them prophecy. Like it was candy, like I could.
The Sight does not work in that way. The visions come when THEY want to. Just because you open the window does not mean the breeze will come.
People will say, "Well what do you see about me?"
Firstly, NOTHING. Second, you don't want me to. It's never anything good, I can assure you. And, I'm not a fucking tarot deck, go look in a mirror for chrissake. Scry, if you must.
Just fuck off and let a man drink away the visions in peace, I say. I say it loudly, I say it a lot.
There'll be days, sure as shit, if you're around enough you'll see for yourself, and you'll crap your pants so hard it'll blow a hole through the ground. Also, there will be a lot of yelling, yours, mine, generally.
I tell you what I saw today:
When The End comes it's going to look a lot like it does right now. Maybe a little shabbier, maybe a little more grey, but essentially the same lights and plastic. People will roll onward on the exact same path until they're just quivering grey jellies until someone gracefully flips the fucking switch and fries us all. And all music is Josh Groban.
Also, puppy overlords. Terrible, just terrible.
Badbeast is definitely a robot, did you guys miss that? Eternal evil robot.
Prophecy is a bizarre thing. I did not need to know that about the puppies but I suspected the grey jelly bit was inevitable. Your dire foretellings fill me with foreboding and bile.
People just don't get prophecy. They think the scam artists on TV are the real deal, and can spout off at will. They don't know that they've got writers, and are trying to stay in business.
I just tell them were really not allowed to discuss the future, and isnt that a lovely rose?