“I don’t think the creature was a possum,” Gabby modified later in after-vision shocks. “Nor was it a cat named Peepee. Something else. Something in our future.”
“Go on,” urged Brother Amos, back to gathering as if his life depended on it. Because it did.
“I’m seeing… I’m seeing…” He briefly pulled up from his own gathering position. “*Seed*.”
“Tillie, we’re out of seed. Time to call Grasslands again.”
“Okay,” the 4 colored clown replies from the garden. “I’ll ring them up as soon as I finish weeding this row.” As if my life depended on it, she then thought. Strange — why did I think that?
“Well Gabby,” requested Brother Amos, “What do you see? Unfurl the whole long, boring story of how we got here and where we’re going.”
“Yeah,” exclaimed Marilyn in her breathy, ditzy way. “The fire is, *raging* out of con-trol; the earth is, *swamping* us alll…”
“I’m seeing something,” gabbed Gabby suddenly. “2 more; 4 total. A teal figure. Some kind of… creature. And the 4 colored clown. Um, *stumpy*, not as tall as a normal person. But much larger than the creature still.” He pulled his white face away from the scrying ball. “A possum I’m concluding. A clown and a possum.”
“*That’s* our, *fu-ture*?” cooed Marilyn. Warhole across the way pounded one iron fist into another, obviously displeased. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn,” he monotoned. “Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn… Marilyn.”