Scary Tarot
Scary Tarot: The Card That’s Bad, Baby
The Devil invites us to question our desires
The Devil raises his hand as two nude, chained figures stand before him. We are left to judge whether this is a greeting, a blessing, or a curse.
“Oh my god, you guys are so loud right now,” M hisses hoarsely as she slips deeper into her plush theatre seat, hiding her face from view in embarrassment.
A and I cackle in response before polishing off the dregs of red wine I smuggled into the movie screening in my S’well water bottle. We’ve been providing a running commentary on the films screening that evening, not unlike the famed muppets Statler and Waldorf. Neither of us have ever shied away from a heathy expression of opinion — we just typically don’t screech them quite so loud, or with such unfettered emotion.
Or publicly, within earshot of the peers whose work we’re critiquing.
I’d love to blame the wine. Really, I would.
But I can’t.
That night, A and I were teased and dry-shampooed. Red-lipped and black-clad. We vibrated with a potent current of destructive energy: a recklessness that had the two of us speaking our minds, downing complimentary bubbles, and confronting anyone who crossed us — past or…
