Ronald MacDonald was a bad psychic.
Growing up on the hardscrabble streets of Punta Gorda, his childhood dream was simple: to help people understand that there is more to life than just the physical world.
And also — no, he’s not friends with the Hamburgler, so just shut the hell up about it.
Ronald’s first reading was brutally honest.
He sat down with a young woman who needed validation that her deceased loved ones were still around–but not watching her take a shower or have sex, because that would just be uber-creepy.
To begin the reading, Ronald lit some patchouli incense and gazed into his crystal skull of Sylvia Browne.
“Okay,” he inhaled deeply. “I’m getting a sense that there is a father figure near you…”
“Yes! My dad! He died when I was 16!” the woman sobbed, wiping away tears.
“He’s showing me a sign for…..huh. That’s weird. He’s showing me thumbs down. Yeah. He’s got both thumbs down. Oh…and now he’s jumping up and down. He’s holding a sign that reads…”
“What? What does it say?”
“Disappointed? What?” the woman yelled.
“Now he’s underlining the word disappointed with a red sharpie. And adding exclamation points. Yep, he’s not proud of you and never was.”
Ronald didn’t let his first reading fiasco stop him from crushing yet another person’s hopes about the afterlife. He read for his elderly neighbor, Ethel, who had recently lost her husband of 70 years.
Ronald began the session. Sylvia Browne’s skull glowed a fiery orange. “Ah, your husband Stan is here! He’s standing right behind you!”
“He is?” Ethel sat straight up in her chair. “How does he look? Is he okay?”
“He’s very excited about something. He’s pointing at you and shaking his head.”
“What does he mean? That it’s not my time yet? That we’ll be together again someday?” asked Ethel.
“Well… now he’s showing me a huge plate of pot roast. He said that’s what killed him. Your leathery, disgusting pot roast that he had to pretend to like for decades.”
“He didn’t like my pot roast?” Ethel’s voice quivered.
“Now he’s opening and closing his hand rapidly to indicate talking…now he’s showing me the sign for choking someone…” Ronald closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “Oh! Okay! He’s saying your nonstop bitching slowly killed his soul and he would have rather died than to listen to another second!”
Ronald slowly exhaled as the incense swirled around him. “Oh!” he continued. “And now he’s saying the only thing that scares the crap out of him in the afterlife is the thought of you dying and your soul finding him on the other side so that you can continue your relentless blabbing on and on about politics and that godawful show, The View. And he says that by the way, all of the women on The View end up in hell. Especially Joy Behar.”
Sadly, Ronald MacDonald’s psychic career pretty much tanked when it was discovered he really couldn’t read anyone and basically made everything up as he went along. Yet curiously, he delighted in causing others needless pain and suffering.
He now has a successful career as a politician in Boca Raton.
14 thoughts on “The Bad Psychic”
That’s funny…Dionne Warwick predicted he’d have a long, successful career and his own reality TV show someday.
Thanks, Peggles. I had this sudden urge to write yesterday and this is what came out of me. Must be the Halloween spirit…
I’m getting the feeling that McDonald’s psychic readings are actually more accurate that the regular psychics. Oh – yes, I definitely see a ghost of Nostradamus whose making the signs that McDonald is the only psychic people can trust.
I think maybe Nostradamus was making it all up as well.
LOL! Good one. You had me gagging at patchouli.
One of the fun things over the past few years has been taking classes like Communicating With Spirit. And finding out that when my Dad died and I attempted to connect with him, I actually did. Just a short phrase, but it was beyond cool.
Ooh! Yes, very cool! I had my first reading over 15 years ago and she was scarily accurate. My dad came through and he said things only he and I would know, very specific details there was no way this psychic could know..For one thing, she told me my dad was with a young boy with curly brown hair that would become my son. This was after I had just discovered I might not have children due to medical issues. So I doubted it was true. Well, guess what? 😉
Reblogged this on ugiridharaprasad.
Thanks for the reblog!
So amusing! Love it!
Glad you enjoyed it.
Ethel and my MIL should cook for one another and keep each other company. Let them see how it feels.
Throw my own mom in there and bam, you’ve got one helluva party.
We are so overdue for a marathon phone chat! (I swear that’s related to this post.) Also, does Ronald McDonald the psychic offer a dollar menu?
HELL YEAH. We must talk for about 3 to 5 hours asap.