Marvin and the Mean Fortune Cookie Messages
“You don’t like fortunes? Maybe fortunes don’t like you.”
Marvin hesitated before taking the last bite of his Tai Dop Voy. Once his first course was consumed, he’d be forced to confront the fortune cookies. And it had come to that: an absolute showdown.
He’d been so pleased when Joy Luck Wok had opened on the corner. A Chinese take-out a few steps away? A Moo Shu Pork-loving bachelor’s dream come true. But like most of his dreams, it had soon gone from sweet to sour.
Joy Luck Wok’s food was fabulous, but its fortune cookie messages were bringing him down. Triggering all his childhood insecurities. His neighbours claimed to be getting upbeat messages about inheriting money or finding true love. Marvin could have used both — but was prepared to settle for any message that wasn’t downright deflating.
Oh, he’d seen some humour in, “He who laughs last is laughing at you.” And he had to admit: “Your future is embarrassing. I can’t even talk about it without curling back up,” was kind of clever — the paper curling part. But the messages were mean, and getting meaner. “You’re a good loser, but you’re still a loser,” was the last straw.
It was time to confront the owner. Fu Ying heard him out, stirred a pan of Sub Gum Go Pa, and snickered. “You don’t like fortunes? Maybe fortunes don’t like you. Your problem? Low self-esteem. Very common in losers.”
She laughed till she snorted. Marvin had an inkling who was writing these fortunes.
“You like my money?” he countered, his voice rising. “I’m a good customer. Once in a while, I deserve a good fortune.”
He hoped he sounded tough, but he felt like a kid again. It was all coming back to him. Even as an only child, he’d never been mother’s favourite. She’d favoured the goldfish.
Fu Ying peered at him through steam-fogged glasses, and appeared to have second thoughts. “Okay, okay,” she said. “You buy Tai Dop Voy. I give you three fortune cookies. You pick. Can’t lose.”
So here he was, digesting his Tai Dop Voy and facing down three fortune cookies. He snapped open the first cookies, swallowed hard, and read: “You appeal to a small, select group of confused people.” Snide. Definitely snide. He could almost hear Fu Ying snickering.
He cracked open the second one. His jaw dropped. “Psychics will lead dogs to your body.” Okay, that was cruel. Over the top. She could stuff her Moo Goo Gai Pan where the sun don’t shine. He’d never darken the door of Joy Luck Wok again.
No sense wasting a cookie, though. He snapped open the last one.
“Ignore previous cookie.”
Marvin thought about it. It was almost like Fu Ying was trying to make amends. And he couldn’t help recalling her General Tsao’s chicken. So delicious, with that hot ginger sauce. And deep-fried, just like mother’s . . . .
