Free Brightleaf by Raleigh Rand

nodding.
    Mavis whispers in my ear that it would be very dramatic if we let Doyle do his thing. I’m not sure about any of this hanky-panky, but Mavis reminds me of my scripture on the wall about strangers maybe being angels. So I give a reluctant nod.
    Now she goes and whispers in Doyle’s ear. Doyle’s lazy eye looks like it’s assenting and gearing up for action.
    Mavis takes charge and says, “I want all ya’ll to fish around in your pockets and pocketbooks and find you a grocery list or a receipt, if you got one. Put your name on it, and pass it to Doyle here.”
    “I’m doubtful,” says Vanessa.
    “Just you wait,” says Mavis.
    Jimmy says, “I’ve got a receipt from last month. It’s kind of crumpled, though.”
    Vanessa says, “Why you got a receipt in your pants pocket from last month? Don’t you wash your britches?”
    “Why wash them? Paint won’t wash out.”
    Eleanor says she lost all her shopping lists.
    Everyone else passes lists or receipts around to Doyle. He pulls Vanessa’s out first and studies it.
    “Ah, here’s a woman, fastidious and tireless, with a heart as golden as her tooth. You will begin a new business venture in the near future. And I see you writing your memoir, which is to be well received. House cleaning will be a thing of the past. I assume that is your current occupation, my dear? You will live long and enjoy your grandchildren, who will bring you nothing but pride.”
    Even though Vanessa is a black lady, you can tell she’s blushing. She asks, “How do you know I clean houses? There ain’t no cleaning supplies on that receipt.”
    “Ahhh,” says Doyle, holding up a finger. “No cleaning supplies, but a pair of rubber gloves, a Martha Stewart Living Magazine, and a Soap Opera Digest . The digest tells me the most about your schedule. That you keep up with the soaps, but can’t always. Living is known to be a most un-relaxing publication, as it is full of tips on how to keep your home and domestic duties seamless, orderly, and immaculate. Individuals as tireless as yourself flock to it. Oh, my dear. This receipt is rich. The bag of dried kidney beans, the pound of turkey bacon, the jar of pickled beets.”
    Vanessa has the most curious expression. She holds out her hand for her receipt and puts on her reading glasses for a closer look. She shakes her head and smiles.
    Next is Ned. Doyle takes longer to analyze Ned’s receipt. He stands there eyeballing each item, then looks up at the ceiling, then at Ned. Finally he frowns and says, “This is dark. Perhaps I should deliver your reading in private? Conversely, you may prefer the presence and comfort of friends. Which do you desire?”
    Ned makes this goofy, thinking face, pretending to be scared and all. Then he relaxes and says, “Naw man, hit me. I can handle it.”
    Both of Doyle’s eyes focus steadily on Ned. Then, holding his G.P. receipt with two fingers, Doyle says, “A love for video games and syndicated television will quickly bring doom. However, I see there’s a strong chance of success if you can break the addictions. And I mean, IF.”
    “Cool!” says Ned, more excited than anyone should be. “How’d you know that, dude? Like, what food do I buy that tells you that stuff? Like ‘doom’? How sick is that!”
    Then Ned hugs Doyle. You can tell by Doyle’s response, he isn’t normally hugged at times like this.
    After Ned’s hug, Doyle regains his composure and says, “If you are truly curious, it is your purchase of multiple packages of Hot Pockets, combined with boxes of frozen yam patties. Hot Pockets, as a regular meal, are an indicator of a serious gaming addiction, while frozen yam patties are an unnatural product made to appear natural, thus the parallel with television—it will never be reality, no matter how strong a bond you feel with a particular character.”
    “Hot Pockets and yams? Hmmm. But what about the success?” asks Ned.
    “Frozen spinach. No one but successful