(~5 minutes to read)
(For anyone old enough and British enough to remember, the 1960s radio show “I’m Sorry, I’ll Read That Again” (ISIRTA) had an interesting way of scene-setting for a sketch. I’ve tried to emulate that in some small way.)
“Madam Wanda?”
“Yes, my dear, that is my name.”
“I need to contact my late husband. Could you help me?”
“I am a medium, my dear. That is my special gift.”
“Good. What do we do?”
“Well, my dear, first you pay me $37.00.”
“You don’t offer a “no connection, no fee” service then?”
“I always make a connection, my dear.”
“Very well. Here’s thirty-seven dollars. Keep the change.”
“Thank you my dear.”
“That’s a very nice hat you’re wearing.”
“It’s a beret, my dear. And I made it using fabric from my own loom.”
“And is that manufactured mother-of-pearl on the front?”
“Heavens, no, my dear! These are real pearls!”
“Do you call everyone ‘my dear’?”
“Yes, my dear.”
“And do you always say ‘my dear’ in every sentence?”
“Not every sentence. Only once every speech.
“My dear.
“Come, come in here and sit at my mystic round table.”
“It’s very dark. There’s only that single candle in the middle of your mystic table.”
“Sometimes the spirit of those we seek is quite weak, my dear: the light is subdued so that we may see them, my dear.”
“You said ‘my dear’ twice just then.”
“I was expecting you to interject after the first one, my dear. By the way, what is your name?”
“It’s Deirdre. Most people call me ‘Deir’.”
“Such a nice name, my dear. Now—shall we get started?”
“O-k-a-y…”
“Do not worry, Deir my dear. You shall come to no harm. I am a medium, remember?”
“You look a little large to be a medium.”
“Ha ha ha, haaaa. That’s a good icebreaker, my dear. One that I’ve not heard since… ooooo… since ten o’clock this morning.”
“Sorry. I’m nervous. It’s the thought of speaking with Arthur again, I think.”
“Do you not want to speak to him, my dear?”
“Frankly my dear, no.
“Sorry—all this ‘my dear’ing is contagious.”
“I thought you said his name was Arthur?
“My dear.”
“It is. Oh… ‘Frankly’… I meant, ‘to be honest or candid’.”
“Aah. Sorry, my dear. Uhm… if I may ask such a question, if you don’t want to speak to Arthur, why do you want to contact him?”
“I need the PIN number for his banking card. But you probably knew that, and asked me just to make conversation.”
“I’m a medium, not a clairvoyant or a mind reader my dear.”
“But the Oxford Dictionary says that ‘medium’ and ‘clairvoyant’ are synonymous.”
“Really? Then I must speak to their founding editor later… see if he can’t put a hex or two on their current staff. Meanwhile… my dear… let us see if we can locate your dear departed husband, Arthur.”
“Departed; yes. Husband; yes. Dear? If you mean did he cost me a lot of money, then yes. But let’s be clear about this—there was very little love between us by the time he died, and to be frank… honest… I’m glad he’s dead.”
“My dear, this does complicate things a little. His spirit may not wish to be contacted if he realizes it’s you.”
“Then tell him it’s Letitia. Our daughter.”
“Very well, my dear. Now; hold my hands, and try to empty your mind. I shall do the same.”
“How can you hold your own hands?”
“I mean I shall empty my mind too… my dear… Now empty your mind; empty your mind; concentrate on the candle’s flame.
“O-o-o-o-o-o-h-h-h-h-h… A-a-a-a-a-h-h-h-h-h… Brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrb…
“Is there anybody there? I seek Arthur.
“You need his last name?
“What’s his last name, my dear?”
“Deerdry.”
“I’m sorry. What’s his last name, Deirdre, my dear?”
“Deerdry.”
“???”
“That’s our last name. D, E, E, R, D, R, Y. »
“Aahhh. So you’re Deirdre Deerd… ry…
“How peculiar.
“Brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrb… I seek Arthur. Arthur Deerdry.
“Are you Arthur Deerdry?
“I have a message for you from your daughter Letitia. The message is, ‘What is your banking card PIN number?’”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘You’re getting as bad as your mother, Letitia. I can’t believe you’ve forgotten that the “N” in “PIN” stands for “number”.’
“I must say that I never knew that!”
“Well tell him you’re sorry, and then ask the pedantic pain in the neck again.
“Oh—and you didn’t say ‘my dear’ in that last speech.”
“Dammit!
“My dear.
“Now I have to say a hundred ‘Hale, Merry’s!
“My dear.”
“Whatever… Please—ask him for the PIN nu… the PIN.
“Wait. What is a ‘Hale, Merry’?”
“It’s the medium’s prayer of penance. It goes like this. ‘Hale, merry, and full of vigour, but cursed am I among mediums and cursed is the fruit of my loom likewise. Holey berets and mother-of-pearl unless I say before dinner, “now is the hour of my penance”.’
“My dear.”
“Weird… Familiar—but weird.
“Now; ask Arthur for the PIN. Please. I’ve got thirty-seven bucks invested in this!”
“As you wish, Deirdre Deerdry my dear.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhh…. Brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrb… Are you still there, Arthur Deerdry? Your daughter Letitia seeks the PIN for your banking card. Please tell me what it is.
“He says, my dear, that it’s the last four digits of your phone number. I think he must mean Letitia’s phone number.”
“Really? Thirty-seven bucks for that? I could’ve guessed that!”
“That’s just the benefit of hindsight, my dear. Your use of my gift has verified it though.”
“I suppose… Well… thanks anyway. Now I can pay his dealer out of his own money instead of mine. The guy told me that Arthur’s death didn’t mean the debt was forgiven. In fact, he asked me if I would like to join my husband. That’s what motivated me to come and see you.”
“Well; I’m glad I was able to save you from… (heh heh) a fate worse than death, my dear.”
“Goodbye, Madam Wanda.”
“Goodbye, my dear.
(After Deirdre Deerdry has left the premises)
“Well… there’s a one-in-ten-thousand chance that it’s the right PIN. I hope Arthur’s dealer is patient.
“Right. Who’s next?”